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“No. Well, okay, say there’s a big cash prize.” Because if this thing ever went public, somebody would figure a way to gamble on it. “But to win, even qualify, you had to face off against opponents with real weapons. Real blood, real pain—and potentially fatal.”
“So I risk getting my ass kicked, maimed, or dead for money and/or glory? I do that anyway.” He smiled, shrugged. “Why would I want to do it for game? Gaming’s how you get away from the real for a while.”
“Yeah. You’re not as stupid as you look.”
“Thanks.” He lifted his fizzy as she walked away, then clicked in. “Hey!”
She strode into the conference room, nodded as the efficient Peabody finished the setup. She gestured toward the components and screens. “That’s the monitor on the dummy files?”
“Yeah. If anyone tries to hack in, access the case files, read, scan copy, infect, EDD will know and trace. I’m keeping my eye on it for a minute while McNab grabs some fluids. The others are on their way.”
“Roarke might be late. He’s working on something for me.”
“Wouldn’t mind him working on something for me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hmm? Oh, just talking to myself,” Peabody sang. “You know how it is.”
Eve strolled over, clipped the back of Peabody’s head with the flat of her hand.
“Ow.”
“Oh, sorry, just an involuntary reflex. You know how it is.” She shifted Var’s ID photo from the group on the murder board and set it dead center.
“Him?”
“Him.”
“Good. I just won a fifty-dollar bet with myself.”
“First, how do you win a bet with yourself?”
“See, I bet myself fifty it was Var. I win, so I put it in my investment kitty. When I get a decent chunk in the kitty, Roarke’s going to invest it for me.”
“What if you’d lost?”
“Then I’d put it in the investment kitty, but it’s more satisfying to win.”
“Okay. Why’d you bet for—against—forget that. Why Var?”
“A couple things. His apartment was perfect, both times a team went in. Okay, a lot of people are neat freaks, but he’d be the first serious gamer I know who doesn’t have a few stray discs sitting around, or some crumbs where he grabbed a snack while he was playing. And he said he’d been playing the night Cill was attacked. Maybe I just didn’t want it to be Benny because he really loves her, and if I was wrong about that, it’d be depressing. Who wants to be depressed?”
“Poets,” Eve decided. “You have to think they must.”
“Okay, other than poets. Plus, Benny strikes me as more of a follower. You have to be a self-starter to pull this off. I think. So if it came down between the two of them, I bet on Var.”
“I may need a tissue, my pride waters me right up.”
She looked over as the EDD team came in. “All right. Let’s get started. Roarke’s working on something for me, so we won’t wait for him. I’ve already briefed him.”
She called the first images on-screen while the team settled. “Victim One, Minnock, Bart, decapitated while engaged in play of Fantastical in his holo-room, secured, in his apartment, also secured. Thus far we’ve found nothing to indicate another entry, invited or forced.”
“Nothing to find,” Feeney stated. “We have to conclude the killer came in with him, and there’s some malfunction with the droid. We’re going to take her apart again.”
“Maybe not.” Eve left it at that until she finished laying the groundwork. “The victim engaged in solo play for just over thirty minutes, starting at level four. We’ve concluded he gamed K2BK, which through process of elimination would be Usurper. We’ll come back to the details of that scenario.
“Victim Two,” she continued, “Allen, Cilla, attacked and critically injured while engaged in play of the same game, in her holo-room, unsecured, in her apartment, which was secured. No indications of another entry, invited or forced until her partners, Leman and Hoyt, entered this morning and discovered her on the holo-room floor. After questioning, her partners state her preferred game is Dragon’s Egg—a treasure hunt. We’ll go into those details shortly.”
