wouldn't find out until something blew up in his face. Which it sounded like had happened, from how upset he was."

  "Upset how?" Tim asked. "Angry? Feeling betrayed?"

  "More like scared."

  "Scared?" Tim echoed. "Why? I mean, it was his system— couldn't he just ... I don't know, change their passwords and tell them the jig was up?"

  "You'd think," Kristyn said. "But he hadn't figured out what to do. He was just scared."

  "Of them or the FBI?"

  Kristyn shrugged.

  "Why ask me?" she said. "I don't know anything about it. Go ask Eddie's scummy friends."

  "Okay," Tim said. "Thanks."

  Kristyn stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder.

  "If that's all you want," she said. "I have things to do."

  "All I can think of," Tim said.

  "Which means you might bother me again if you think of something else," she said, turning to leave.

  "Sorry," Tim said. "We're just trying to figure out what happened."

  Kristyn's face fell.

  "It's okay," she said. "If someone did try to kill him, I want to help. I just don't know how I can."

  Tim nodded. Kristyn stood frozen, her back half-turned to him, one foot half-lifted, staring for long seconds at the floor.

  "I feel guilty," she said finally. "Not for anything I did wrong. It's just ... I wanted him out of my life for good. But I didn't mean this way."

  She left for real this time. Tim reached for his cell phone as he watched her stride off. She didn't look back.

  "Exactly what did Kristyn say again?" Maude asked.

  She heard the paper rustling on Tim's end of the call. He was probably flipping through his notebook.

  "The part about the FBI investigating one of his friends?" Tim asked.

  "No, I got that/' Maude said. "Something about giving them free space."

  "She said they all had stuff on Eddie's servers, or did when they were too broke to go anywhere else," Tim said. "I can't swear that's word for word, but close."

  "So maybe if we figure out which sites are client sites and which are freebies he's given friends, we'll have a better idea what the FBI could be interested in."

  "Yeah, but does that necessarily get us any closer to figuring out who attacked him?" Tim said. "Or even if he was attacked?"

  "Seems to me that if the FBI is interested in something, that's something we should look at pretty closely as a motive for the attack," Maude said. "How many dangerous or shady things do you think Eddie could be involved in, anyway? I don't get the idea he's that much of a troublemaker."

  "More like a trouble magnet," Tim said. "Like that character in the comics with the little black cloud over his head all the time."

  "Joe Btfsplk," Maude said. "From L'il Abner."

  "Whatever," Tim said. "What I mean is that we only have Eddie's word for it that the FBI is interested in something one of his friends was doing. What if he was exaggerating, to make himself seem more interesting? We only heard this through Kristyn, so we don't really know exactly what he said."

  "You think she could be lying?"

  "Not really, but I'm not sure she cared enough to listen to what Eddie was telling her. She could have gotten it wrong. For that matter, how does she know Eddie was giving all these friends free space? We know she didn't like the

  friends. We know Eddie wasn't rolling in dough. Maybe she jumped to the conclusion that they weren't paying him."

  "Even if the friends paid him, we need to look more closely at their sites," Maude said. "Until we can disprove what Kristyn says Eddie said."

  "Maybe Eddie was overreacting," Tim said. "If the FBI came around asking me questions, I'd probably panic, too, but in this case, wouldn't the FBI scrutinize lots of porn sites to make sure they're not straying over into illegal stuff?"

  "I don't know," Maude said. "I suppose I could ask Dan if he were here. Although I'm.not sure I want him to know I'm technically helping run any kind of porn site."

  "Maybe if you said you were asking for a friend."

  "Maybe I should ask Sam instead," Maude said. "For that matter, I'll ask her if she's heard any rumors about any of Eddie's friends being investigated."

  "Don't they keep stuff like that pretty quiet?" Tim asked. "The police and the FBI, I mean."

  "Yes, but sooner or later they have to start questioning witnesses and suspects," Maude said. "Some of the suspects will lawyer up. She might know something."

  "Yeah, at this point any scrap of information would help."

  "Sorry," Turing said. She'd been silent for so long that Maude was slightly startled. "I know we've been woefully short of information. If KingFischer and I had gotten into Eddie's systems by now, you'd have plenty."

  "We know this kind of thing takes time," Maude said. She resisted the impulse to pat the monitor comfortingly.

  "When you get into his systems, you'll probably crack the case wide open," Tim said. "Because it's looking more and more like the clues are all in Eddies CQmputers."

  "Not necessarily," Turing said. "It's also possible some of the clues are just passing through his computers."

  I could tell from the silence that followed my words that even Maud* found them puzzling. Or maybe she just hadn't realized that I'd conference^ myself in.

  "There are two main ways that Eddie could be connected with some illegal activity, " I said. "The first, and most obvious, would be if there's something illegal hosted on his machines. "

  "Like the pornography sites, if they turn out to be the illegal kind. * Maude said.

  "But what if he doesn't own them?" Tim said. "What if he's only hosting them and didn't know they were illegal? Wouldn't whoever owned the sites get in trouble instead of Eddie?"

  "Ignorance is no excuse," Maude said. "We'd need to check with Sam. but isn't a web hosting company liable for whatever it hosts?"

  "Within limits," / said. "And sometimes its even more liable for what comes through it. Do you know what an open relay is?"

  "More or less," Maude said.

  "Do I want to? 1 ' Tim asked.

  "Probably not." I said. "But what I'm saying won't make any sense if you don't even know the basics. E-mail goes through special computers called mail servers. When the Internet was just starting up, most mail servers were open relays — which means that whatever mail happened to come their way, they'd send on to wherever it was going."

  "It's a lot like what happens in a developing country." Maude said. " Where anyone who has a car or a truck helps out the people u ho don't by giving the?n rides. "

  "But as the Internet became more and more commercialized, people began to use these open relays to send spam. " I went on.

  "Which, to continue the analogy." Maude put in, "is like being nice enough to pick up a hitchhiker and then having him hijack your car. "

  "Ah." Tim said, nodding. Maude's analogy would only have confused me, but apparently it reassured Tim.

  "So these days most places have closed their relays — which means that they only relay mail to or from people with e-mail accounts on their servers. Their members, employees, or customers."

  "So if everyone who had a mail server closed their relays, it would stop all spam?" Tim asked.

  "Not all spam," Maude said. "But it would help."

  "Responsible mail server administrators already do," I said. "But many lazy or incompetent administrators don't."

  "Make it illegal to have an open relay," Tim suggested.

  "You can't outlaw stupidity," Maude said. "Or laziness."

  "So Eddie is lazy or incompetent?"

  "Or pretending to be," I said. "I've been checking around, and Eddie has been blacklisted a couple of times because of open relays. Only briefly, because he was quick to correct the problem and had a reasonable explanation."

  "What constitutes a reasonable explanation?" Maude asked.

  "Three times he claimed it was a new machine that hadn't yet been properly configured," I said. "That's quite possible. And twice he claims someone else altered the relay settings."

  "The friends," Tim said.

  "Possibly," 1 said

  "Or maybe the friends are just convenient scapegoats if Eddie was doing it himself " Maude said.

  "Less likely, but I suppose it's possible," I said. "1 might find out, once I get into his system."

  "Why do it himself?" Tim asked. "I mean, if he knows he'll get in trouble . . . ?"

  "Money, 1 suppose," Maude said. "Spam's a big moneymaker for the people who send it. Maybe he thought it was worth the risk."

  "But he couldn't keep doing it indefinitely without getting permanently blacklisted," I said. "So I think it's more likely that one of his friends was responsible."

  "Or maybe his security's no good," Maude said. "Couldn't someone just hack in and open a relay?"

  Delete All Suspects IBS

  "If his security were that bad, KtngFischer and I would have gotten in yesterday, " / said.

  "Sorry," Maude said. "I wasn't thinking."

  "It looks as if someone has a back door that lets them open a relay when needed, * I said.

  "I still don't get what this has to do with the FBI," Tim said. "Are they in charge of stopping spam now?"

  "They're actively investigating phishing schemes," Maude said. " Which are usually done through spam."

  "Okay, that makes sense," Tim said. "Oops — got to go; I'm almost at Matt Danforth's place. Maybe he'll have the magic password we need."

  Magic password? Sometimes I wonder if my attempts to increase Tim's understanding of computer technology have any effect whatsoever.

  Saturday! 1:QQ p-n.

  Of coursei before he could get the magic password from Danforth, Tim thought, he had to find the jerk home.

  "He's out again," Tim said, propping his feet against the dashboard and leaning back so he could talk on the cell phone in comfort. "Or maybe still out would be more accurate."

  "How inconsiderate of him," Claudia said. "Or should that be how convenient? Does Danforth drive a dark blue sedan?"

  Tim checked the file.

  "Brand-new red Jaguar," he said.

  "He wouldn't want to mess that up by running over anyone. Maybe he borrowed a car to take out Eddie."

  "I'll ask him when he shows up. If he shows up. For lack of anything better to do, I'm going to hang around here for a while."

  "Have fun," Claudia said. "I'm heading over to check out the co-lo site."

  "Better you than me," Tim said, shaking his head. "I'd have no idea what to ask them. I'm still getting used to the idea that the two dozen computers in Eddie's basement aren't more than enough to run his business."

  Claudia laughed and hung up. Tim settled back in his seat and let his brain worry over the real reason he was hanging around the parking lot of Matt Danforth's condominium. He was worried. Two people connected with this case had been killed so far; well, one killed and one sounding as if he wasn't going to make it. The fact that one of Eddie's friends—possibly his closest friend—was unaccounted for made him nervous.

  He probably just went away for the weekend, or spent the night with his girlfriend, Tim told himself. But that didn't keep him from worrying. He breathed a sigh of relief when, half an hour later, a red Jaguar pulled into the parking lot. He reminded himself that, since Matt Dan-forth didn't know him from Adam, "Boy, am I glad to see you're still alive!" was probably not the best of opening lines.

  "Are you Matt Danforth?" he said instead, though he knew from the driver's license photo Turing had pulled that it was. Danforth looked slightly older than Eddie's other friends, Tim thought, though perhaps that was because he was dressed more conservatively—khakis and a sports jacket instead of the familiar jeans and T-shirt.

  "Yes," Danforth said, sounding wary. "Can I help you?"

  "I'm a private investigator," Tim said, holding up his registration card in one hand while he handed Danforth a business card with the other. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Eddie Stallman."

  "About Eddie?" Danforth said, his voice still wary. He glanced at the card. "Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?"

  "He's been in an accident," Tim said.

  "God, I was afraid this would happen. You have no idea how many times I've taken his keys away and driven him home. Was anyone hurt?"

  "Only Eddie," Tim said. "And he wasn't driving. It was a hit-and-run while he was walking to his own car."

  "Damn," Danforth said, shaking his head. "But he'll be all right, won't he?"

  "We don't know yet," Tim said. "He's in the ICU."

  "When did all this happen?"

  "Wednesday night."

  Danforth continued to look bewildered and shake his head.

  "Man, I can't believe no one told me," he said.

  "I'm not sure many of his friends knew until yesterday, when we began contacting them."

  "Still ..." Danforth muttered. "Anyway, what is it you're asking questions about? You said you're a PI, right? Shouldn't the police be investigating something like this?"

  "They are investigating the hit-and-run," Tim said. "But they think it's an accident. Mrs. Stallman, Eddie's grandmother, hired us to investigate the possibility that it was a deliberate attack."

  He decided to try Claudia's theory that people would be more willing to talk about the business if they thought it was only a sideline to the attempted murder investigation.

  "Why would someone attack Eddie?" Danforth asked. He sounded genuinely bewildered.

  "We're hoping his friends can tell us," Tim said. "His grandmother seems to think it's something about his business. She says he's been getting odd phone calls and strange visitors."

  "That would be me," Danforth said, with a small laugh. "Me and the rest of his friends. I don't think she ever really liked any of us. Except maybe the time I went by his house in a coat and tie, on my way to a job interview."

  "She doesn't seem to know much about what his business does."

  r

  13fi Donna Andrews

  "As far as I know, it doesn't do anything that would make someone want to run him down," Danforth said. "Unless he's gotten up to something pretty weird that he didn't tell anyone about."

  "Is that possible?"

  Danforth considered for a few moments.

  "Not unless it was something he got into in the last six weeks or so," he said. "If he'd been doing it before then, I'd know. Usually, if he wants to take a day off, he asks me to fill in for him. Watch his systems. I mean, he needs someone to do it; he's a one-man shop. But it's been weeks since I've done it."

  "Why?" Tim asked. "Did he stop asking?"

  "No, but I haven't really been home that much. I've been doing some out-of-town consulting work. Just up in Baltimore, but I put in long hours, and it's a hell of a commute. Most weeknights I just crash at a friend's house in Fell's Point. If I'm home, I'm probably sleeping."

  "Tough life," Tim said.

  "It's temporary," Danforth said, shrugging. "And the pay's great."

  He patted the hood of the Jag.

  "Nice," Tim said.

  "Anyway," Danforth went on. "Usually when I sub for Eddie, I prowl around his system and check everything out. Not so much because I'm nosy, but because I want to know what I'm supposed to be running. Nothing worse than getting a call about a problem with some application I didn't even know was on the system and having to figure it out with an angry client on the other end of the phone. Or sometimes I'd find something that needed to be cleaned up before it caused major problems."

  "Did you clean up many of Eddie's mistakes?"

  "Not a lot," Danforth said, frowning. "He's pretty good at what he does. Just tries to do too much, if he's gotten something up and running all by himself on a totally im-

  possible deadline, it's not unreasonable for someone taking a look with fresh eyes to see a few things he's missed. He's done the same for me sometimes."

  "So you have a pretty good idea what his business was all about."

  "Yeah," Danforth said. "I can't think of any reason anyone would want to attack him over it. It's not like he's hosting Mafia.com or something. He's just running a small-time web hosting company. It's the Internet equivalent of a mom-and-pop grocery store."

  "A mom-and-pop grocery store that sells a few raunchy magazines under the counter."

  "Oh, you've been surfing Karl's sites?" Danforth said, shaking his head.

  "Karl?"

  "Karl Collins. Another of Eddie's friends. You might want to talk to him."

  "We have," Tim said. "He didn't say anything about running any porn sites."

  "He doesn't advertise it," Matt said. "AOL's so into the whole 'Keeping the Internet safe for families' thing that Karl isn't sure how it would go over if the AOL brass found out one of their employees was selling naughty pictures in his spare time. Legally, I don't think there's anything they could do, but he doesn't want to rock the boat. So instead of hosting it himself, he has Eddie do it."

  "So Eddie's only involvement with the porn sites was hosting them for Karl," Tim said.

  "Yeah," Matt said. "Of course, that's pretty much Karl's only involvement. Counting his money and paying Eddie's fees."

  "Then where does he get the . . . um ..."

  "The product? He buys that."

  "Wouldn't the people you have to deal with in that business be pretty shady?"

  "I'm not sure shady's the right word," Matt said. He was

  mo Donna Andrews

  grinning—probably having a hard time not laughing at Tim's visible embarrassment. "Sleazy, maybe, but it's not as if Karl has to go slinking around in alleys handing unmarked bills to guys in trench coats. It's all legal. In fact, there's a convention every year in Las Vegas for guys who host porn sites. That's how Karl got into it."

  "What do they do at a convention like that?" Tim asked.