The Spider turned to one of his keyboards and began typing. “Give me a second to set up a data base format.”

As far as Rivera was concerned, the Spider could be speaking Swahili. Despite himself, Rivera admired the man’s efficiency and expertise. His fat fingers were a blur on the keyboard.

After thirty seconds of furious typing the Spider paused. “Okay, read me the names, addresses, and dates, in that order.”

“So you need me to sort them out?”

“No. The machine will do that.”

Rivera began to read the names and addresses from each slip of paper, deliberately pausing so as not to get ahead of the Spider’s typing.

“Faster, Rivera. You won’t get ahead of me.”

Rivera read faster, throwing each paper on the floor as he finished with it.

“Faster,” the Spider demanded.

“I can’t go any faster. At this speed if I mispronounce a name, I could lose control and get a serious tongue injury.”

For the first time since Rivera had known him the Spider laughed.

“Take a break, Rivera. I get so used to working with machines that I forget people have limitations.”

“What’s going on here?” Rivera said. “Is the Nailgun losing his sarcastic edge?”

The Spider looked embarrassed. “No. I wanted to ask you about something.”

Rivera was shocked. The Spider was almost omniscient, or so he pretended. This was a day for firsts. “What do you need?” he said.

The Spider blushed. Rivera had never seen that much flaccid flesh change color. He imagined that it put an incredible strain on the Spider’s heart.

“You’ve been working in Pine Cove, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever run into a girl up there named Roxanne?”

Rivera thought for a moment, then said no.

“Are you sure?” The Spider’s voice had taken on a tone of desperation. “It’s probably a nickname. She works at the Rooms-R-Us Motel. I’ve run the name against Social Security records, credit reports, everything. I can’t seem to find her. There are over ten thousand women in California with the name Roxanne, but none of them check out.”

“Why don’t you just drive up to Pine Cove and meet her?”

The Spider’s color deepened. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? What’s the deal with this woman, anyway? Does it have to do with a case?”

“No, it’s…it’s a personal thing. We’re in love.”

“But you’ve never met her?”

“Well, yes, sort of—we talk by modem every night. Last night she didn’t log on. I’m worried about her.”

“Nailsworth, are you telling me that you are having a love affair with a woman by computer?”

“It’s more than an affair.”

“What do you want me to do?”