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this true?”
    Dorfman nodded, his mouth too full to answer.
    â€œWhat’s he doing in Tinker’s Cove?”
    â€œGetting married,” said Dorfman.
    Lucy and Phyllis nodded.
    â€œTo Sidra Finch,” said Lucy, belatedly remembering Ted had assigned her to find out who was on the yacht.
    â€œYou know her?” asked Dorfman. “That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to get some background on his bride.”
    â€œSidra’s marrying the next Bill Gates and you never told me?” demanded Ted, turning on Lucy and Phyllis.
    â€œI told you she was getting married,” said Lucy. “And what did you say? ‘I hope this wedding isn’t going to interfere with your work.’ That’s exactly what you said, if I remember correctly.”
    â€œExactly,” said Phyllis.
    Ted ground his teeth. “You left out one important element. The name of the groom.”
    â€œI thought you knew,” said Lucy.
    â€œEverybody knows,” said Phyllis. “He’s the guy on the yacht.”
    Ted gave Lucy an evil glance, and she shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
    â€œSo who exactly is this guy on the yacht?” asked Ted, turning to Dorfman.
    â€œTypical Internet millionaire,” said Dorfman with a grin. “He’s got a company called Secure.net . They’ve got a way of encrypting communications programs so the information remains confidential. Unlike now, where anything you put out there can pretty much be intercepted. They’ve got fab technology.” He paused to reach for another doughnut. “He’s rich already and he’s going to make a fortune when the product hits the market next month.”
    â€œI don’t understand. What does the company do?” Ted was scratching his head.
    â€œThey don’t actually do it yet, but they say they have figured out a way to transmit information on the Internet and keep it confidential at the same time.”
    â€œSo CyberWorld is doing a story about this Davitz?”
    â€œYeah. A profile. Boy from New Jersey makes good, marries beautiful girl. That’s what I need your help for. I can’t find out much about Sidra Finch.”
    â€œWell, if I were you, I’d go talk to her folks. They live just a couple of blocks from here.”
    Dorfman took out his notepad. “And what would their name be?”
    â€œFinch, of course,” said Ted, prompting disapproving glares from Lucy and Phyllis.
    â€œOh,” said Dorfman. He sensed he wasn’t going to get any more information; Lucy and Phyllis had fallen silent. “Well, thanks for everything,” he said, getting up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m staying in town for a few days. If you want to reach me, I’m at the Queen Victoria Inn.”
    â€œRight,” said Ted, smiling affably.
    As soon as Dorfman had gone, Lucy pounced. “You shouldn’t have done that. Now he’ll go and bother Sue and Sid.”
    â€œThis man’s a colleague. It’s professional courtesy.” Ted leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “You know, Lucy. You owe me a story. It’s too late now, but we can run it next week.”
    â€œI’ll get right on it,” said Lucy. “But to tell the truth, I’m not really sure what this Internet is. I mean, I know what it is, but I don’t see how people make money from it.”
    â€œMe, either,” said Phyllis. “That NASDAQ keeps going up, and people are getting rich, but the companies don’t make any profit. I don’t get it.”
    â€œMaybe it’s time we figured it out,” said Ted.
    â€œI’ll do my best,” promised Lucy. “In fact, I can start right away because I’m going to have lunch with the next Bill Gates’s mother!”

Chapter Seven
    L ucy was a few minutes late when she arrived at the Greengage Inn—these days it seemed as if