'Do you know any more about how the game is played?'
'One of the emails spelled out the rules. The webmaster conducts the game. Players only use their game names and can communicate with each other only through the webmaster. So the webmaster always knows all. The webmaster gives out clues about the players' identities and the hunt begins. All players know from the beginning that there will only be one man standing at the end of the game. All players know there's no pulling out once the game has begun. Pulling out marks a player for assassination.'
'Singh.'
'Yeah. It looks like Singh was assassinated. The game began a full month before you got involved. You might have been the prize from the very beginning. Or the webmaster might have changed the prize midway. Or maybe the webmaster didn't feel any rush to designate a prize until the game was under way.'
'And I happened along.'
Morelli shrugged. 'No way to know. You're a good prize. Bounty hunter. The webmaster had to come up with something to top the cop. The prize isn't mentioned in any of the emails to Singh. The rules were that the webmaster only gave up the prize to the last man standing.'
'And the webmaster?'
'That's the bad news. No clue to the webmaster. His emails are, so far, untraceable. And he hasn't given away anything of himself. There were some messages to Singh about his disappearance, requesting that he return to finish the game, warning of the consequences. And there were a couple earlier messages that got the game going. Player names and hunt clues.'
'Is Bart Cone still a suspect?'
'Everyone's a suspect. Cone is high up on the list.'
'What about the other victims' computers?'
'We were never able to find Rosens or Howie's computer.'
'Fisher Cat's?'
'Fisher Cat's name is Steven Klein. Nineteen years old. Worked at Larry's video rental and lived with his parents. The state has a team going through the parents' house, but so far as I know the computer hasn't turned up yet.'
I glanced at the newspaper I'd dropped onto the coffee table. Kleins picture was on the front page. To be more precise, Kleins sneakers were on the front page because the rest of him was hidden behind a couple cops and a back shot of me, standing hands on hips, head down. My hair didn't look good.
'Crap,' I said.
Morelli looked down at the photo. He raised his eyes and looked over at me. 'Did you get a new haircut?'
'Yeah. Somewhere between getting shot and posing for this newspaper picture. I guess you didn't look in the envelope.'
Morelli took the envelope off the coffee table and looked inside. Morelli's usually pretty good at hiding emotion, but the lock of hair pushed a button that was beyond his range of control. Color rose in his cheeks and he slashed out at a table lamp, hitting it with his closed fist, sending it flying across the room to smash against the wall.
Bob was curled into a big Bob ball at the end of the couch, sound asleep. He levitated six inches off the couch when the lamp crashed and he ran for the kitchen.
'Feel better?' I asked Morelli.
'No.'
'Do you have anything else for me?'
'Klein, Rosen, Singh, Paressi were all shot at fairly close range. Howie was shot across a parking lot. Even using a laser scope, there's still a skill level required to put a twenty-two between someone's eyes at a distance. Someone in the carnations and roses group is a very good shot. I'm guessing it's the webmaster. A possible scenario is that you discovered Howie's identity and the webmaster had to take him out or risk having the game blown. And then maybe the webmaster discovered he liked killing and decided to insert himself into the game as a player.'
'Was Bart Cone in the military? Does he belong to a gun club?'
'Never in the military. No gun club that we know of.' Morelli did another watch check. 'We have to roll.'
I did a fast scan for Ranger's man when I got outside, but I couldn't spot any shiny new black cars.
Morelli beeped his truck unlocked. 'If you're looking for your rent-a-thug, I told Ranger you'd be with me this morning.'
'Did he make you take a blood oath that you'd protect me?'
'He asked me if I had adequate health insurance.'
THE RAIN HAD stopped and Jersey was steaming. Grass was growing and oil-slicked puddles were evaporating. Another hour and the sun would be bright in the sky, shimmering in the ozone haze.
It was a terrific day for sandals, but I was wearing sneakers because it's hard to run fast in sandals. And I thought there was a good possibility that I might have to run fast today. I wasn't sure if I would be running from the webmaster or running after the webmaster. No matter which, I was prepared.
Ranger wore the eye of the tiger. He was always in the zone. I felt like I was in the zone today. Of course, there was the possibility that I was just delusional after the phenomenal sex, but what the hell, whatever the reason, I felt okay. And I was hardly thinking about the lock of hair. Well, all right, maybe I was thinking about it a little.
The Trenton cop shop is located on Perry Street and will never be mistaken for Beverly Hills PD. No potted
