We were having lunch at La Fourno on South Street between 6th and 7th Streets. It is one of Philly's better kept secrets. Kelly had the Eggplant Parmesan; exquisite. Mine was Vegetarian Lasagna with a side of fresh sauteed spinach. We shared a 2006 Corvo, a white, medium bodied wine. It tasted a little like tangy citrus along with fresh apple.

"Well, Hari talked with the lawyer handling the estate. Yes, go ahead and take the safe. No, we don't have the combination. Damn thing must have weighed four hundred pounds. It took Bigfoot, his two guys and some landscaping guy to load it onto the van. Amy showed it to me. It's sitting in their workshop with the door open."

Kelly cracked a smile. "How did they get it open, tough guy?" She's been calling me 'tough guy' ever since our recent escapade involving international hit men; local, state, federal and international cops; and the sale of a forged Vermeer for a little over $260 million. Probably because we managed to come away from the whole incident relatively unscathed.

"He called Punk." Punk is a sixteen year old street urchin who has gravitated to the antique's trade. In a nutshell, he steals, lies, cheats and runs scams in general. Reminds me a little of myself at that age. Good kid, I like him.

"Punk cracks the thing in about two minutes. H gives him a Franklin for his troubles. Amy said that there was a cigar box with a bunch of very old baseball cards."

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday. In the morning. She said that Hari took the cigar box and headed down to South Philly to see this guy with the sport's shop. He came home; said he left a few of the cards with the memorabilia guy and they went to see the twelve noon showing of 'Green Lantern' down on Delaware Avenue. Amy said that Hari didn't go to the market because it was raining."