led me into something messy, like the Dumpster.
When my head started feeling better, I realized I still had a little time to kill – I didn't want to be the first one there. On a whim, I turned on my laptop and logged on to the Internet. I searched for information on Anna Floyd, the romance writer, but apart from learning, on Amazon.com, that she had written two more books besides the ones I'd found in Ted's house, I couldn't find anything about her. One of Anna's book covers featured a handsome one-eyed pirate holding the buxom, swooning blond heroine. The pirate looked a -little like Michael, I thought with a sigh. I fingered the cell phone. Should I call Michael? Change my mind about a virtual date? No, I checked my watch – he would probably still be filming, so I decided not to interrupt him. Besides, I was definitely going to go to Luigi's to interrogate the guys, and I wasn't sure how he'd feel about a virtual office party.
So I put the cell phone away. But I still had time before leaving for Luigi's, so I decided to do something useful. I grabbed the paper I'd found in Ted's cache, the one with the numbers I suspected were IP addresses, and carefully typed one of them into the address line of my browser.
My screen went black. Had my battery suddenly given out? No, it was the Web site's background. Suddenly, the words, hot! horny! xxxxxxxx!!! began flashing in red on my screen, accompanied by several grainy pictures of women doing things better left undescribed.
“Ick,“ I said, and hit the BACK button to escape.
Instead of taking me back to Amazon, and Anna Floyd's overripe but fully clothed heroine, hitting the BACK button brought me to another black page pocked with pornographic images and leering red captions. I hit the HOME button and sighed with relief, thinking I'd escaped – but within seconds, small windows began popping up all over my screen, like toadstools after a rain, showing suggestive corners of pictures or offering badly spelled links to a bewildering variety of perversions.
I finally had to turn the laptop off to end the barrage, and sat there looking at it, fighting an irrational urge to spray the keys of my laptop with disinfectant before I touched them again. And feeling a familiar anger – the same anger I'd felt when, as a teenager, I'd felt a tap on my shoulder in a movie theater and turned to find a man exposing himself. At least with the flasher I could lash but, breaking his nose with a backhanded punch before dumping a thirty-two-ounce Coke in his lap. What could I do to the distant, anonymous creator of a sleazy Web site?
“Cute, Ted. That was a nasty little piece of work,“ I said aloud. “But what does it mean?“
There were half a dozen more IP addresses on the slip of paper. I shook my head as if to clear it. I'd have to check them out, of course; just because one of them was a porn site didn't mean they all were. But I had a feeling they would be, and I wasn't in the mood to face any more of them now.
I checked my voice mail. A message from Michael, reminding me to have my Dad check my head and promising to call me tomorrow if he didn't hear from me tonight. A message from Dad, reporting that he was having dinner with the ME and would fill me in tomorrow if he learned anything new. A message from Rob, reporting that he was still on the lam and would see me tomorrow, from which I deduced that he was still out of jail and enjoying his status as prime suspect.
Excellent. No one expected to hear from me till tomorrow. I washed my face and hands and grabbed my purse. Time to head over to Luigi's.
Even on a Tuesday night, Luigi's was hopping. I didn't see any of the Mutant Wizard crowd, so I loitered by the front counter till I could flag down one of the waitresses.
“I'm looking for the Mutant Wizards group,“ I said.
“The what?“ the waitress asked.
Apparently there were still a few people in Caerphilly who hadn't heard about us. Possibly a good thing, under the circumstances.
“It's an office get-together,“ I said. “A bunch of people – probably guys, mostly, I really don't know how many.“
“We got a couple groups,“ she said. “You want to walk through the dining rooms, see if you spot them?“
Just then Roger strolled up.
“Roger, hi. Do you know where the – “
“Two,“ Roger said to the waitress.
“Two?“ I echoed.
“Two,“ the waitress said. “Right this way.“
“Hang on,“ I said to the waitress. “Two?“ I repeated, turning to Roger. “I thought you said there was going to be a group having pizza here tonight.“
“No, I asked you to have pizza,“ he said. “Two,“ he added, to the waitress.
She looked back at me.
“Two, my sainted grandmother,“ I said. “You did not say 'Would you like to have a pizza with me.' You said, and I quote, 'We're having pizza tonight. Luigi's, seven-thirty.' That is how you tell someone she's welcome to join a group who already have plans. That is not how you ask someone out on a date.“
“You tell him, hon,“ the waitress said, leaning against the counter and putting her hands on her hips.
“Well, you're here now,“ Roger said. “Why don't we just have some pizza and –?“
“The hell we will!“ I said.
“Is there a problem here?“ said a man. The manager, presumably.
“No,“ Roger said.
“Yes,“ I said.
“The jerk lured her here on false pretenses,“ the waitress said.
“Do you need help, miss?“ the manager asked me.
“No, I'm fine,“ I said. “He's the one who needs help – like some training in basic social skills. In the first place, Roger, that is not how you ask someone out, and in the second place, I'm already seeing someone and not interested in going out with anyone, and in the third place, if I were interested in going out with someone, you would be only slightly above Ted on my list of prospects and well below George, and in the fourth place – in the fourth place – “
Oops – tactical mistake. I hadn't thought of a fourth place.
“In the fourth place – ,“ I repeated, hoping for inspiration.
“Here we are!“ exclaimed a voice from behind me. “Are we on time?“
Jack. With Luis trailing in his wake.
“What are you doing here?“ Roger said, frowning.
“Meg told me about the pizza party,“ Jack said. “Good thing Luis and I came, huh, or you'd have had a pretty boring time. Guess everyone else was busy. We'll have fun anyway, though, won't we? Four, please,“ he said to the waitress.
The waitress looked at me. So did the manager.
“Four,“ I said.
“Table for four,“ the waitress said. “You got it, hon.“
“But – ,“ Roger began.
“So,“ Jack said, flinging his arm around Roger's shoulders and herding him along after the waitress. “How's it going, Rog?“
Luis put his hand over his mouth to hide a snicker, and he and I fell in behind Jack and Roger.
“Glad you guys showed up,“ I told Luis.
“Roger's such a jerk,“ Luis said.
“No kidding. So since there wasn't really a pizza party, how did you two happen to show up?“
“Something you said to Jack clued him in,“ Luis said. “After all, he's seen the jerk pull stuff like this before.“
Was it reassuring that I wasn't the sole object of Roger's awkward attentions, or should I be embarrassed I hadn't figured him out earlier? I decided not to worry about it.
As we sat down – with Luis and Jack flanking me – the waitress plunked a wax-encrusted Chianti bottle onto the table and used an orange Bic to light the candle stuck in its mouth. As she did, I happened to be glancing at Luis's face and realized something.
Luis was the Hacker. The Robin Hood Hacker. No wonder the blurred black-and-white newspaper photo from Ted's secret cache looked so familiar; the lighter flame was enough like the glare of the reporters' flashbulbs to let
