Con Game Read online

  “You’re really tight. It must have been horrible.”

  Delta closed her eyes and concentrated on Connie’s fingers kneading her neck.

  “Grotesque would be an understatement. Try macabre. Whoever this piece of shit is, he’s seriously twisted. I’m sick and tired of him prowling around my beat, murdering people. He’s definitely without conscience.”

  Connie nodded. “The worst kind of killer.”

  Delta turned to face her. “Yeah, but most killers don’t maim their victims. Most killers don’t chop the hands off their victims. Most killers don’t . . .”

  Suddenly, the color drained from Connie’s features. Backing up, she leaned against the lockers and shook her head as if suddenly dizzy.

  “Con? You okay?” Delta was up in an instant and standing by her side. “Do you need some water or something?”

  Without saying a word, Connie simply waved her off.

  “I know it’s gross,” Delta continued, “I’m sorry if—”

  “It’s not . . . that,” Connie forced out.

  “Well, speak to me. Say something. You’re scaring the crap out of me.”

  Slowly moving back to the bench, Connie sat down and wiped her face with the towel Delta had left there. Delta had never seen her quite so shaken by a crime…and they had faced many shit heads in their time together.

  “Slowly, Del, and without missing any details, tell me what you saw tonight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Connie nodded slowly. “Positive. What happened out there?”

  Delta told her about arriving at the house, seeing the chauffeur with his head split open and how the victim was also missing his hands. Connie listened very carefully until Delta had finished.

  “Did you find them?” Connie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “The hands?”

  Connie nodded.

  “Nope. Connie, what’s the matter?”

  “Oh my God,” Connie said, bringing her hand to her mouth. Leaning down next

  to her, Delta patted her shoulder and waited for Connie to get a hold of herself. Something about this story had rocked her friend, and Delta knew her well enough to know she’d explain at her own time.

  Slowly licking her lips, Connie stared down at her hands, still clutched around the damp towel. She swallowed hard before finally asking Delta, “He . . . he chopped them off with the ax, didn’t he?”

  Delta nodded.

  Connie’s eyes did not blink. She did not look at anything but the towel, and she did not move. Her chest accelerated its heaving motion, and Delta watched as her pupils grew smaller and smaller.

  “Con?”

  “You said that he killed the chauffeur.”

  Delta nodded again.

  “The chauffeur was wearing the usual black uniform, wasn’t he?”

  This time, Delta’s eyebrows knitted into a frown. Connie’s reaction was really beginning to frighten her. “Yes, he was. I don’t know why he went after the chauffeur and not Mrs. Griffin, but—”

  “I do.”

  Delta caught her breath and waited.

  Connie looked up from the towel and locked eyes with Delta. Her pupils were so small now, they blended with the deep brown of her eyes. “Con, you’re really scaring me. Tell me what’s going on. What’s the matter with you?”

  Connie’s eyes riveted to Delta’s. “I know why the perp killed the chauffeur.”

  Squatting next to Connie, Delta barely breathed. “You do?”

  Eyes still locked to Delta’s, Connie’s nostrils flared as she took a breath. “Hang with me on this one, Del, because it’s so far out there, even you might have a hard time believing it.”

  “If you believe it, that’s good enough for me.”

  Rising slowly, as if she just recovering from being drunk, Connie paced over to the sink and got a drink of water. After throwing the Dixie cup into the trash, Connie started to explain.

  “Try to follow me on this, Del, without asking any questions, okay?”

  “You got it.” Folding her arms across her chest, Delta waited.

  “Remember the other day, when I told you how I killed that fifty-headed beast in the computer game I’ve been playing?”

  Delta cocked her head in question, trying to link up this far-reaching non sequitur with the horrible death of the chauffeur. She had expected a curve, but this was more of a spit ball, and Delta could only nod.

  “Well, do you?” Connie’s voice ranged between anxious and desperate.

  “I remember.” Delta thought back to that evening. “You said you poisoned him.”

  Connie nodded. “In these adventure games, when you successfully pass an obstacle, you get something for your success. Sometimes, it’s a weapon, or a magic spell, or even a map. But it’s always something you need in order to conquer the next level. Are you with me so far?”

  Delta nodded, unsure if she followed at all.

  “Do you know what I got for killing that beast?”

  Shrugging, Delta had no idea where Connie was going with this.

  “Del . . .” Connie put her hand on Delta’s shoulder and stared intently into her eyes. “I got an ax. A double-bladed ax. The same kind of ax that was stolen from Omega’s.”

  Delta walked over to the sink and got herself a cup of water, mirroring her friend’s actions. “A double-bladed ax?”

  “Yep. And do you know what I had to do with that ax?” Connie didn’t wait for an answer. “I had to cut off a demon’s hands in order to get my next prize.”

  Delta stood straight and turned to peer into Connie’s face. “And what prize was that?”

  Connie exhaled loudly. “Gloves.”

  “Gloves?”

  Connie nodded. “Much like those worn by the chauffeur. You’ve seen the kind. They’re short at the wrist like the gloves cowboys wear.”

  Delta mulled this over. What was Connie suggesting here? “You cut off his hands in order to get the gloves? God, Con, don’t you think this could just be a freaky coincidence?”

  “With the singular exception of the shooting death, which you yourself said you don’t believe is related, that game completely parallels your killer’s every move thus far.”

  Delta swallowed hard. “Even the first death?”

  Again, Connie nodded. “My dwarf started out with what I thought was a sword. But since she’s a dwarf, the size comparison deceived me.” Connie paused here for emphasis, “All along, she had been carrying a dagger.”

  Delta shook her head like a boxer who had just received a staggering blow. “Go on.”

  “When I figured out that I couldn’t kill the fifty-headed beast with my dagger, I went back to the first level to see what I had missed. You can always go backwards in these games, but never forward unless you have all the right things.”

  “And?”

  “And I missed the fact that the necromancer—” “Necromancer?”

  “Yeah. You know, an ancient druid who often mixed potions?”

  Delta nodded. “Oh yeah. Like Merlin?”

  Connie nodded energetically. “A necromancer could speak to the dead as well as mix roots and plants for potions. They often acted like modern-day pharmacists.”

  Delta nodded slowly, the picture becoming clearer to her. “Ah. Our first victim, Ben Friedman.”

  “Exactly. Earlier in the game, the necromancer gave me directions and I thought that was all he was good for. It never occurred to me to kill him. But later on, when nothing I did could get me to the next level, I went back and stabbed him. Then I took his bag full of potions and elixirs.”

  Delta cocked her head. “Potions?”

  “More like poisons. The necromancer knew what was needed to kill certain animals.” Connie waited for understanding to register on Delta’s face.

  “What you’re telling me is that someone is playing a game on us?”

  “Not on us, Del, with us.”

  Backing away, Delta walked over to the sink and spla
shed more cold water on her face. “You mean this whole thing is being orchestrated?”

  “I’d bet a year’s salary on it. When the fifty-headed beast died, Dori, my warrior-dwarf, picked up a battle ax.”

  “So, if the necromancer was the pharmacist—”

  “And the beast, the Doberman—”

  “And the ax was used to kill the chauffeur,” Delta sat down heavily, “then we’re up against one fucked-up sicko.”

  “Not quite, Del. we’re up against a highly intelligent psychopath.”

  Delta let the information sink in before responding. “So the bottom line is you’re playing a game created by a killer, who’s acting it out. Is that it?” Connie nodded. “Is there any way possible for us to find out who created the game? I mean, there must be something, some kind of clue.”

  “There must be. Almost every program has what’s known as a back door. It’s kind of like a secret code that enables you to enter the belly of the game. If I can unlock the back door, it’s possible we might find out who made it and why.”

  “There wasn’t a label or anything on the disk?”

  “Nothing. I wasn’t even sure it was a game until I put it in Eddie. When I saw how outstanding the graphics were, I decided to try it out.” Connie paced across the room. “I did think it strange that someone would send me a game without any instructions, or even a note."

  Running her hand through her wavy hair, Delta sighed. “So, there’s some wacko out there who sent you a game that he’s re-enacting out on the streets.”

  “I’m afraid so. What we don’t know is if he’s leading the game or following it. That’s where he has us. So far, I’m a few steps behind.”

  Weary, brain-tired, sick to her stomach, and emotionally exhausted, Delta bowed her head and rubbed the back of her sore neck. “Who on earth could think up such a thing? And more importantly, why?”

  Moving over to the door, Connie shrugged. “Someone with an extraordinary mixture of intellect and insanity.”

  Delta rose and joined Connie at the door. “Miles once told me there were only four reasons why people murder: money, revenge, passion, and silence. Which is it for our psychopath?”

  Connie shrugged again. “I’d rule out money.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you get a good look at that dagger If our killer was after money, he had an entire pharmacy full of drugs that had a street value of thousands of dollars.”

  Delta nodded. “Yeah, if he wanted money, he would have gone after Mrs. Griffin. She’s loaded.”

  “Right.”

  “And silence?”

  “If he wanted to silence someone, he’d probably do it so that the body was never found. You have to keep in mind, we’re probably not dealing with your everyday murderer. I believe he left the dagger in Friedman’s body as a clue. Whoever he is, he’s a game player, Delta. It’s the game he’s enjoying, not the murders themselves.”

  “Then it’s revenge or passion.”

  “Or both.”

  Inhaling deeply, Delta held Connie’s hand. “Can you get in this back door?”

  “I’ll give it my best. Even if I do, that doesn’t guarantee we’ll have any more answers than we have now.”

  Delta looked past Connie’s shoulder and saw herself in the mirror. A killer on the loose was a frightening thing, but one who played games with cops was beyond Delta’s comprehension.

  “Con?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want him. And I want us to do whatever we have to do to get him.”

  “I know, Del, I know.”

  Gina set a pot of coffee and some sandwiches on the table, before throwing an

  afghan over a sleeping Megan. “Let me get this straight—the actions of the game are happening on the street?” Connie and Delta nodded in unison. “Someone knows I play these adventure games, and he made sure I received that disk.”

  Gina sat down and rested her chin in her hand. “That would pre-suppose that the killer knows you. Swell.”

  Connie reached over and set her hand down on top of Gina’s. They had been together so long they were like bookends, with volumes of stories about their life together tucked neatly in between.

  “I sure feel safe now,” Gina said sarcastically, scooting closer to Connie.

  Connie wrapped her arms around Gina. “More than likely the killer

  knows me, yes. It would be too much of a coincidence to think otherwise.”

  “So, what does that mean?”

  “It means he’s done his homework. It means he’s aware of just how far along in the game I am.”

  “It means,” Delta added, “That it’s someone we know.”

  “Are you talking about another cop?”

  Connie shrugged. “Maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time.” Connie shot a knowing look over to Delta.

  “So, what now?” As the words came out of Gina’s mouth, her fear was almost tangible.

  “Well, it isn’t time to panic or make irrational decisions,” Connie answered. “What we have to do is start the game over to make sure I haven’t missed any vital clues.”

  Delta nodded. “We have to retrace the murders and see what the correlation is between them and the game. This disk may be our only shot at catching the perp.”

  “So, we have to move backwards in order to move forward.” Connie nodded and moved over to her computer desk. Pressing various buttons, Connie waited for the game’s introduction to appear before pausing. “I’ve taken a good look at the disk, and this is a home job made by someone using very advanced equipment. There are no labels, no copyright numbers, no nothing. The perp was very careful to leave out any identifying marks.”

  “Yet, it was sent to you at work.” Gina walked over to the desk and pulled a chair out next to Connie.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Got any ideas?” Grabbing Connie’s hand, Gina held it in her lap.

  “I don’t want to rule anyone out, but it’s highly unlikely it’s any of our guys at the station.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Connie grinned. “If any of them were half as good at computers as I am, I’d know. We all would. It took a remarkable computer talent to be able to put together this kind of program with the graphics he’s used. We’re not dealing with someone who dabbles, here. This is someone who really knows his stuff.”

  “But we’re still not ruling anyone out,” Delta stated. She’d been burned once by her brothers in blue. She would never let that happen again.

  “No, we’re not. What we are going to do is make sure I haven’t missed anything in the game, and then try to see if there’s a back door.” Connie fluffed up her back pillow and released the pause button. “We’ll have to take turns manipulating Dori around, because my eyes get tired and my wrists start to ache. So just watch for the next hour or so and see how the game is played. Gina, you’ll take down all of the words and instructions on the screen so we can refer back to them.”

  “What do you want me to do, Con?”

  “Watch carefully, Delta. People’s lives may depend on how well you understand the game.”

  Delta read the title out loud. “Death on S.U.P. Mylo. Odd title.”

  “Odd character.”

  “Here’s the rest of the intro. `A sinister force has taken over the palace of Sabine. The Dark Lord wants to rule the almighty city of S.U.P. Mylo, but the forces of the Dark Lord demand the shedding of innocent blood before he can set foot at the bottom of the Great Mountain and claim his prize.

  “ ‘You are Dori—a young and wise warrior, who was out practicing with your father’s blade, when the Dark Lord and his minions captured the palace and the city of Sabine. Only you can save the Sabines from the Dark Lord’s wrath. But first, you must enter into deadly combat against the wild and vicious creatures inhabiting the forest around the foothills of the Great Mountain. Once successful, you will then have to face the final challenge—the evil powers of the Dark Lord himself. Only if you defeat
him will the sacrifice of innocent lives cease and the world be restored to normal.

  “ ‘To defeat the Dark Lord, you must use every skill at your disposal, both mental and physical. You may find allies along the path, but beware! Only a champion of outstanding worth can battle the Dark Lord. If you succeed in defeating the Dark Lord, the Dark Force surrounding the city will be lifted. If you fail, all of Sabine will be destroyed, and you will have sacrificed your life in vain. Choose your champion well. Good luck.’ ”

  Delta studied the words carefully before they disappeared from the screen. The twinge in her stomach reminiscent of the one she had felt when she thought someone was watching her investigation of the chauffeur’s death. Could these two forces of reality and fantasy be so intricately related?

  “Got it all,” Gina said, as she employed her shorthand so she could later transcribe the information.

  In the quiet of the evening, Delta watched in awe as Connie maneuvered little Dori from one peril to the next, swiftly hacking any creatures coming toward her and jumping over lesser threats.

  “You’re really good,” Delta murmured, watching the ease with which Dori escaped potentially hazardous situations.

  Half an hour later, they were facing the fifty-headed beast, and Connie finally leaned back in the chair and watched as Dori tricked the beast into eating the poison.

  “So far, so good.”

  Delta nodded and watched Gina jot down notes. Delta wondered what she’d have said two weeks ago if someone had told her that she’d be involved in a computer game, and that her involvement might save lives.

  With the battle ax in little Dori’s hands, Connie started moving her toward the door.

  Delta bolted upright. “Wait!”

  “What?”

  Images of an alley, a trash can, a man in black, and a shiny object humming as it whirled past her ear swam freely in the forefront of her mind’s eye.

  “The ax!” Delta announced.

  “What about it?”

  “He didn’t have it when I was chasing him in the alley.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Delta nodded. “How else could he have thrown that star at me? Yes, I’m positive he didn’t have it.”

  Connie paused the game, and the music stopped as well. “Then what happened to it?”