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.“You have about a hundred pieces of E-mail on my computer.”“From that ad you put on the Internet?” Dixie sighed.“Ryan, I wish you’d—”“Some of them sound pretty good.And a couple are really interested.We need to E-mail some answers before the best ones get away.If you don’t have time, maybe I could—”“That’s all right! I’ll make time.” She promised to drop by that night to empty the E-mail box.A Metro bus stopped to pick up passengers, and Dixie was trapped behind it, cars speeding past in the next lane.The smell of diesel exhaust invaded the van’s cockpit.Ryan was certainly determined to find a boyfriend for her.Apparently, dating was no longer a private matter.Personal columns in newspapers.Video dating services.Now the Internet.She wondered if Jon Keyes had a normal dating life.Girlfriends… who would know about his girlfriends? She picked up the cell phone and punched in his office number.“Keyes and Logan.” The receptionist’s cold sounded less nasal.Maybe she’d taken some decongestant.“Hi, Sheri.This is Dixie Flannigan.I was in earlier today, to see Mr.Keyes.How’s the book?”“The hero’s in jail! They think he killed a man, beat him to death with his bare hands.Can you believe that? Somebody’s framing him.I just know it! And I think it’s Joanna’s father, that old miser!”“Must be some hunk of a man, to even be suspected of beating someone to death.”“Strong… but gentle when he’s with Joanna.” The woman’s voice held a dreamy quality that reminded Dixie of Carla Jean.“Speaking of hunks, I noticed Jon Keyes wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”“Nooooooo.” The girl lowered her voice.“He’s been divorced since before I came here.”“Anybody in the wings?”Sheri hesitated.“You know, I’ve never seen him with anybody steady.We have company dinners once or twice a year, and Jon always brings somebody different.Once he even brought his daughters, and no date at all.”“Daughters? They don’t live with him, do they?”“Well, I wouldn’t bring it up, if I were you.It’s really sad.” The woman told Dixie about the accidents, pretty much the same version she already knew, with one addition.“Jon had been working really hard all summer on the Zimmerman account in Austin—you know, that big new mall going in downtown—and when that poor little girl drowned, Jon just about lost it.”They chatted for a few more minutes.Dixie managed to learn that Morey Zimmerman was the contact at Zimmerman-Fogarty Enterprises.She disconnected, then immediately dialed information for the number and spent the extra buck to have an operator make the connection.“Mr.Zimmerman’s secretary, please.This is Sheri, from Keyes and Logan.” Dixie squinched her nostrils to sound congested.When a mature female voice came on, Dixie improvised: “We’re backtracking on some airfare overages, and I’m hoping you can verify a couple of dates for me.Would your records show if Mr.Keyes arrived in your office as scheduled at eleven o’clock on the morning of August first? That was a Saturday.”When Dixie disconnected a few minutes later, she had learned that Keyes arrived on time for a noon luncheon appointment with Zimmerman.Austin was about three hours from Houston by car.He’d have lost maybe forty-five minutes by detouring east to Camp Cade that morning.And on May first, he had arrived a few minutes late for the meeting scheduled at ten o’clock.Perhaps taking the 9:05 flight had been cutting it close.She turned the van into a quiet suburban neighborhood.Live oak trees lined both sides of the street, and trimmed boxwood or Ligustrum hedges framed deep yards.Jon Keyes’ house sat in the middle of a block, architecturally distinctive.A pair of four-foot-high nutcrackers flanked the entrance, and a snow-flocked Christmas tree was visible in the living-room window.Dixie parked at the curb and strolled to the front door as if expecting someone to be home.She rang the bell, glancing around as she waited.In this sort of neighborhood, at least one or two homeowners would be retired.She saw a white Ford Taurus parked in a driveway down the street.After ringing the doorbell again, she rounded the house to check out the fenced backyard.The DOVER PLUMBING sign on the van would keep the neighbors from getting too anxious, as long as she didn’t set off the alarm system.Keyes had the real thing, not just a decal.In back, a swimming pool had been installed, with a child’s slide, and possibly a heating system, since the pool wasn’t covered for winter disuse.Some live oak leaves floated on the chlorine-blue water.The houses in this subdivision were twenty to thirty years old, and swimming pools were not part of the original packages.Keyes had given his house a pool along with the face-lift.Leaving the van parked in front of Jon Keyes’ house, she walked three doors down to the house with the white Taurus.A wreath of dried pinecones and holly springs brightened the entrance
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