Lord of the Wings (23 page)

“No idea,” I said. “It's a crime scene. Horace is there—ask him. How's Dr. Smoot?”

“His odds are good,” Dad said. “He's got some serious burns, but ironically, the fire may have saved his life. The fire, and the fact that he had working smoke alarms. He was hit on the head and developed a subdural hematoma. Dr. Carper did an emergency craniotomy, and he's improving rapidly. But if he'd gone untreated for another couple of hours, he'd have become the murderer's latest victim.”

“Speaking of murder victims,” I said. “Any idea what happened to the ones we do have?”

“Yesterday's was a gunshot wound to the head,” Dad said. “The bullet wasn't recovered, but he was also shot in the shoulder, and we recovered that bullet for possible comparison with the bullet Horace found at the museum this morning. And I haven't done the autopsy on today's victim yet—been waiting till I was sure Dr. Smoot was stable—but most likely it will be the gunshot wound I observed at the scene. Went in at the base of the skull and out the top of the head. Which means either the shooter was a midget, or he was shot from below. Probably from the basement while he was trying to flee up the stairs.”

“Was Dr. Smoot shot too?”

“No, just hit over the head, thank goodness. Oh, good—Horace has finished taking his photos of the new victim. I'm going to start the autopsy in a few minutes, if you're interested.”

“Interested in the results,” I said. “I'll skip the process.”

“I'll keep you posted.” He hung up.

“That's good news about Dr. Smoot, I guess,” Randall said.

“Better news if he hadn't had to have a craniotomy,” I said. “That means they opened up his skull, you know. To relieve the pressure caused by bleeding into his brain, which is the subdural hematoma part. But yeah. Under the circumstances, probably the best news we could hope for. Still, Dr. Smoot will be out of commission for weeks. We need to decide whether to close the Haunted House or find someone to run it.”

“It's a pretty big draw,” Randall said. “Heaven knows why. But I think we need a couple of someones. Dr. Smoot could have used the help, and he lived there. Got any ideas?”

“Let me think about it.” I closed my eyes and began mentally scanning my lists of volunteers, trying to think of someone who would do a good job on the house. Why did visions of my pillow keep interfering?

“Ms. Ellie, maybe,” I suggested, opening my eyes. “She's good at telling ghost stories, and so could probably manage to give a decently spooky tour of the house. She's probably better than Dr. Smoot at town history—at least she's more accurate. And most important, if anyone can keep the unruly tourists in line, it would be Ms. Ellie. Yes. I'll ask her.”

“Good idea,” Randall said. “And I think I can play the family loyalty card and recruit one good volunteer. I was thinking Aunt Jane.”

“Judge Jane?”

“Like Ms. Ellie, she's pretty darn good at suppressing mischief,” Randall said. “Even one of them could handle it, but together they'd be unbeatable. You tackle Ms. Ellie, and I'll call Aunt Jane. And you know, another thing—”

The door opened and the chief came in. He was frowning with annoyance.

“Dr. Smoot's in serious condition,” I told him. “But Dad thinks he'll pull through. He'll be starting the autopsy on the victim as soon as he has done all he can for Dr. Smoot.”

“Good.” The chief smiled slightly, and then his face returned to its frown. “Our prisoner has suddenly become very chatty. Meg, you seem to understand this scavenger hunt thing—better than I do, at any rate. If you don't mind staying here for a few minutes, I'd like you to hear what he has to say.”

“Rob and his employees are the experts,” I said. “But if you think I can help.”

Just then Justin stepped into the room, followed by Festus. The chief motioned Justin to a chair in the center of the room. Festus pulled up another chair and sat at his elbow.

“Now tell us again how you got involved in this game.” The chief sat behind his desk and fixed Justin with his sternest glance.

Justin glanced back at Festus, who nodded.

“This guy e-mailed me,” he said. “Didn't give me a name—just called himself GameMaster41. And he said he'd seen my post that I was going to the Caerphilly Halloween Festival, and would I like a chance to win an advance copy of
Vampire Colonies II
. It's a computer role-playing game.”

“Published by Mutant Wizards,” I said, in case the chief hadn't heard of it.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “And the festival's in Caerphilly, and Mutant Wizards is in Caerphilly, so I figured maybe it was a publicity stunt, and I said yes. And then GameMaster told me I had to sign a confidentiality agreement so if I told anyone about the game before the end or tried to get anyone to help me win, I'd forfeit the prize.”

“Mr. Klapcroft has given us access to his e-mail.” The chief held out a sheet of paper. I took it and held it so Randall could read it, too. It was a copy of GameMaster's original e-mail.

“Sent, you will note, from a Yahoo account,” the chief said.

“Rob predicted that,” I said, nodding. “Easy to set up, hard to trace.”

“Precisely.” The chief turned back to Justin. “GameMaster said nothing about the number of players you'd be competing with, did he?”

“Not exactly,” Justin said. “He just said it was a select group of players. I hoped that meant a small group. And he said to watch my e-mail, and he'd send me the first day's tasks promptly at twelve oh one a.m. Wednesday morning, and if I finished them by midnight Thursday, and sent in photos to prove it, I'd get the next batch at twelve oh one Friday. I guess I'm out of the running now.” Justin glanced at the chief with a slightly resentful look. “Being in jail overnight, I missed the midnight deadline.”

“Look on the bright side,” I said. “As far as we know, you're the only game player who has a solid alibi for one of the murders.”

Justin grimaced. Maybe I wouldn't have been too thrilled either.

“Mr. Klapcroft also has an alibi for the first murder,” Festus said.

“An alibi we're still checking,” the chief said.

“I was still working at the college cafeteria at midnight,” Justin said. “I didn't get here till nearly three a.m.”

“By which point, according to Dr. Langslow, James Green had been dead for several hours,” Festus added.

“Congratulations,” I said. “And if that doesn't make you feel better, remember that all your fellow players are out there doing who knows what kind of stupid, dangerous, or unpleasant things to win a prize that doesn't exist.”

“You mean there isn't a
Vampire Colonies II
game?” Justin looked alarmed.

“There is,” I said. “But there's no way in the world that Rob's giving out an advance copy to anyone playing this scavenger hunt—it absolutely has nothing to do with Mutant Wizards.”

“Oh. Bummer. For them, I mean. The other players.”

“Glad you're not out there eating more insects?” I asked.

“The cricket wasn't bad,” he said. “Tasted kind of … nutty.”

An idea struck me.

“Are you sure you're out of the running?” I asked.

“Pretty sure, yeah.” Justin glanced up at the large, industrial clock on the wall of the chief's office. “'Cause it's more than nine hours past the deadline for sending in my proof.”

“This says ‘complete all five tasks before midnight and e-mail GameMaster the proof,'” I read. “I'd interpret that to mean that midnight's the deadline for the tasks, not the e-mail.”

“Of course, GameMaster may not see it that way,” the chief said. “But it's worth trying.”

“I thought you said there wasn't a prize,” Justin said.

“There is for you,” I said. “A lot of goodwill with the chief—maybe even a get-out-of-jail-free card—if you can convince GameMaster to send you today's tasks.”

Justin frowned for a moment as if puzzled, then his face cleared as he obviously figured it out.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You want to get today's tasks to help you catch the other players.”

“One of whom may be a murderer,” the chief said. “Yes.”

“But how am I going to explain not sending the picture in yesterday?” Justin asked.

“Easy,” Festus said. “You were arrested while performing the last two tasks. You were in jail. Your lawyer didn't arrive to bail you out until today.”

“That's almost completely true.” Justin sounded surprised.

“When you tell a lie, it's always better to wrap it in as much truth as possible,” Festus said.

“It's just the bail part that isn't true.” Justin looked at the chief with a hopeful expression.

“Provided Mr. Klapcroft can talk GameMaster into sending him today's task list, and also provided that his alibi for the first murder checks out, we can discuss the possibility of bail,” the chief said.

“Boy, will I be glad to get out of here,” Justin said.

“If by get out of here you mean leave town, no way,” I said. “He has to keep playing the game, right? Otherwise GameMaster might suspect.”

“Yes,” the chief said. “And since we have reason to suspect that GameMaster may already be responsible for at least one murder, we don't want him to suspect Mr. Klapcroft, do we?”

“So you want me to stay around here where someone might want to kill me?” Justin whined.

“GameMaster will have no reason to kill you if he thinks you're still playing the game,” the chief said. “And I'll assign a deputy to shadow you, to ensure your safety. In fact, I think we'll put you in protective custody, for your own safety, but I think we can find someplace a little more comfortable than the jail.”

“And for heaven's sake,” I added. “Don't tell anyone you're cooperating with the police. Not even your best friend.”

“Meg's right,” the chief said. “Indiscretion would jeopardize not only our operation but your life.”

Justin looked a little scared, and glanced up at Festus.

“A moment,” Festus said.

He and Justin went to the far side of the room and whispered together for a few moments. Then they came back.

“Okay,” Justin said.

“My client agrees in principle to your proposal,” Festus said, with a repressive glance at Justin. “Let's hammer out the specifics, shall we?”

“Meg, can you help Mr. Klapcroft draft his e-mail to GameMaster?” the chief asked. “Something that's in his own words as much as possible and doesn't accidentally give anything away.”

“Roger,” I said.

So while the chief, the county attorney, and Festus worked out the specific terms for his eventual release, Justin and I came up with a draft message.

“Hey, GameMaster,” it read. “Sorry I'm late sending this. Finished the tasks way before the deadline, but then I got arrested right after I finished 2 and 4—can you believe it? My lawyer didn't get here to bail me out until today. Still got half the day left, so send me the Friday tasks, 'cause I'm determined to win!”

The chief, the county attorney, and Festus studied it carefully.

“Sounds good,” the chief said. “Here—turn this on.”

He handed Justin an iPhone. With all of us looking over his shoulder, Justin entered his password, opened his e-mail, and typed in the message. He made half a dozen typos, but I figured that probably added to the authenticity. Then he held his phone up for inspection, waiting for approval.

“Send it,” the chief said.

Justin obeyed.

“Now what?” Justin asked.

“Now we wait.” The chief held out his hand for the phone and Justin handed it over. “The next move is up to GameMaster.”

“Do I have to go back to the cell?” Justin asked.

Festus and the chief exchanged looks.

“We can put you in the interview room for now.”

“Okay,” Justin said.

The chief called in a deputy to escort Justin back to the interview room.

“So if he has an alibi for the first murder, why didn't he tell you sooner?” I asked, when Justin had left the room. “And is it really solid?”

“Your father wasn't able to do the autopsy until yesterday afternoon,” the chief said. “That confirmed his earlier hunch that Mr. Green had been dead between ten and twelve hours by the time we found him. Mr. Klapcroft is a student at George Mason University, and has a part-time job with the campus dining services. At the time of the murder he was still at work in Northern Virginia.”

“That must be a relief,” I said. “For him at least. Frustrating for you.”

“I want to get that phone forensics expert to start working on this thing,” he said, looking down at Justin's phone. “But not until—”

The phone emitted a tiny ding.

 

Chapter 18

The chief looked down at Justin's phone in surprise for a few moments. Then he reached down and tapped on the phone as if more than half convinced it would explode if he made a typo. Evidently he'd been paying attention when Justin had typed in his password.

“It's from GameMaster.” He was peering over his glasses at the phone. “‘Try to do better next time. Everyone else is getting ahead of you. Here are your Friday tasks. One: take a selfie with a bat. Two: do something amusing with fake blood. Three: put a spider on someone. Four: steal a gravestone—fake is okay. And five: toilet paper somebody's house.' Well, that gives us more clues to spotting the game players. Meg, I'm forwarding you a copy—can you get this out to your Goblin Patrol?”

“Will do,” I said.

“And have them keep looking for yesterday's tasks,” he said. “Maybe it's just coincidence, but I think we've seen some of these new pranks already. I'll check the incident reports, but I'm pretty sure we've had fake gravestones stolen along with pumpkins. And a couple of reports of houses getting toilet-papered. Which means that Meg could be right about there being three groups of players, working the same tasks, but not always on the same day.”