A Game of Murder (11 page)

John scratched his cheek, not certain what to make of this. “Interesting.” Not the most intelligent comment he’d ever made, but maybe its vagueness would lead Adam to say more.

Adam’s head bobbed up and down. “It really is. She did a good job of making the choices ambiguous, so you’re never quite sure what choosing an option will do.” The light left his face. “You could get into some pretty dark side trips.”

“Oh?” The non-committal route had proven fruitful once. John might as well try it again.

Adam sighed. “Mira wasn’t a happy person. She suffered a lot for being different. She wrote that suffering into parts of her game.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did she ever think of getting help?” John wished he’d been able to talk to the woman before she died. Maybe he could have helped her. Or maybe he could have pointed her in a direction where she could get help.

“Not as far as I know. I think Cathy might have urged her to get counseling at one time, but Mira blew her off.”

John was beginning to get some insight into the murdered woman’s past, but Adam still hadn’t answered his original question. “Why do you think it’s your fault Mira died?”

Adam appeared disoriented for a moment at the change of topic, then caught up. “My review gave Mira’s game an ‘A’ rating. I called it ‘a fresh, new take on the text adventure.’ I also said the game proved that Twine was a valid game development system.”

“I’m guessing there were some who disagreed?” John drank the rest of his punch and put the cup on the table.

“Disagreed is a very mild word for the reaction.” Adam looked around as if to make sure none of the other gamers were in earshot, then lowered his voice. “These guys are hard core computer nerds. Unless you can hack an OS, they don’t think you have the chops to write real games. So Twine, which almost anyone can use, doesn’t count in their opinion. They came down pretty hard on that review. They also came down pretty hard on Mira.”

“How so?” John asked.

“They said I only gave her a good review because she slept with me—which not only wasn’t true, but totally ridiculous given that Mira wasn’t attracted to men.”

“I know,” John said.

Cathy had made this clear to John when he spoke to her about the memorial service. Because she’d been rejected by so many clergy, she’d wanted to make sure he didn’t have a problem with Mira being a lesbian. As far as he knew, Christ hadn’t said one word about homosexuality being a sin. John had a feeling Jesus would have accepted gay people the same as he accepted all others—except Pharisees. It amused him that the one group Jesus had a problem with was the group most convinced of their own righteousness. If it was good enough for Jesus, it was good enough for John.

Adam licked his lips. “She was being harassed online, being called names like… well, I don’t think a minister would want to hear the words she was called.”

“Didn’t she report the harassment to the police?” Now John was alarmed. Surely that behavior was against the law?

“She didn’t want to, but eventually I convinced her she should. They couldn’t track down who was posting the stuff. The places they posted were designed for anonymity and, being geeks, the ones doing it knew how to hide.”

John shook his head. “It really is a sad story.” He turned his eyes from Adam and observed each of the remaining attendees, trying to see if any one of them looked like a killer. Faith’s influence, no doubt.

“It is. I hope the police do a better job of finding the murderer than they did of finding her tormentors.”

“So do I,” John said, and meant it.

“Well, I’d better see if Cathy wants to go home. This whole episode has been rough on her.” Adam tossed his paper cup in a nearby trash can and headed across the room.
 

* * *

Faith wasn’t sure what to say next to Cathy. She’d already been through the standard “Sorry for your loss.” Her shoes, bought new for Karl’s funeral and not worn since, pinched her toes. The memories they evoked, along with the simple black dress she wore, filled her with emotional as well as physical pain. She vowed never to wear them again.

What she really wanted was more information about Mira, and, in her typical blunt way, she decided to just ask. “So tell me about Mira. You were roommates, right?”

“Yes, we shared an apartment.” Cathy’s tone was guarded.

“How long did you know her?”

Cathy twirled a strand of her long, dark hair around a finger, exposing a gold hoop earring hanging from a pink earlobe. “About a year and a half. She bought one of my drawings at the Fourth Avenue Street Fair. We got to talking and found we had a lot in common.”

“Like what?” Faith asked.

“Our creative sides, of course. Mira was passionate about creating text adventures that were as much art as games.” Cathy hesitated, pushed the strand of hair she’d been twirling behind her ear, and stood a bit straighter. “We were attracted to one another in other ways.”

Did Faith hear defiance in Cathy’s words? Instead of pressing her for more information, she waited.

“Sometimes a woman can provide more affection and comfort than a man,” Cathy said. She shifted her weight and gestured with her hand, a flourish across. “Anyway, we formed a partnership. I’ll miss her. And I’ll also regret that we never got to develop games together.”

Faith thought that was as close as Cathy was going to get to admitting she and Mira had been lovers. She remembered playing Mira’s game. “Did you do the opening screen for
Sartre in Love
?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re quite talented.”

Cathy flashed Faith a smile—the first one Faith remembered seeing on her face since Mira died. “Thanks. I’d like to be able to quit my teaching job and paint full time, but it’s the rare artist who can earn a living with her art.”

That seemed to be true not only for artists, but musicians and most other people pursuing a dream rather than an occupation. Faith felt fortunate she could earn a living doing what she loved. “Will you keep going to the gamer club meetings?”

Cathy looked thoughtful. “It depends.”

Faith was about to ask “depends on what?” when Adam joined them.

“Hey.” His eyes were soft and warm as he gazed at Cathy. Hers absorbed the warmth and reflected it back to him. After a time which lasted slightly longer than it should have, Adam broke the embrace of their eyes and said to Faith, “Hi. Pastor John did a good job, especially since he never met Mira.”

Faith nodded while trying to puzzle out the relationship between Cathy and Adam. “He’s very good at what he does. He even got me to join the church.” She smiled.

“Well, I hope he doesn’t plan on getting any of us as members. I can’t think of anyone here who’s into religion.” Adam’s tone was slightly defensive. He turned back to Cathy. “Ready to go?”

“I think so,” Cathy said. “Lorna and Hope said they’d clean up for me.”

She slipped her arm in Adam’s. “Nice talking to you, Faith.”

Adam gave her a curt nod before squiring Cathy out of the room. Faith followed them with her eyes. Had she been mistaken about Cathy’s relationship with Mira? Or with Adam? She understood now why Lorna said Cathy was confused.

Then Faith had another thought, a theory about the three of them which might prove dark and dangerous. What if Cathy discovered she wasn’t a lesbian? What if she and Mira had a falling out over Cathy’s attraction to Adam? Her heart beat faster. Was it possible Cathy had been responsible for the poison in Mira’s salad? Or Adam?

Faith contemplated the possibilities. Either one of them might have decided to get Mira out of the way in order to pursue this new relationship. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she flinched at the touch of John’s hand on her arm.

“Sorry. A penny for your thoughts,” John said.

“I guess I
was
wrapped up in them.” Faith wanted to follow the new thread of her idea to its conclusion. “I think I’ve confirmed that Cathy and Adam are an ‘item’.”

“What makes that so absorbing?” John slid his arm around her. “You are familiar with couples in relationships, if I’m not mistaken.” He smiled down at her.

The warm feeling suffusing her body distracted Faith, made it hard for her to think. She cleared her throat and took a step back, stalling for time while she collected herself. “There’s obviously something you don’t know. Mira was gay and, if I’m correct in my conclusions, she and Cathy were an item up until Mira’s death.”

John’s eyebrows arched. “So Cathy told me. Do you have a problem with that?”

Faith shook her head. “Of course not. But I think some in the gaming club did.”

People were drifting out of the fellowship hall. A few of them came over to thank John for the service, but most left surreptitiously, as if hoping no one would notice their departure. Eventually Hope and Lorna, who were clearing the table and putting the room in order, were the only ones left aside from Faith and John. “The change in relationships made me think either of them might have a motive to murder Mira.”

“Either of whom?” John asked, then, his confusion changed to understanding. “Adam or Cathy? Neither one of them seems like a murderer.”

Faith scrunched up her face. John could be so naive. “Neither did the murderer at the ranch last summer.” She paused. “I wonder if the police know about the romantic entanglements.” Her voice trailed off.

“I think the police are perfectly capable of handling the investigation,” John said sternly. Creases formed on the bridge of his nose.

“What if they’re not? I agree Cathy and Adam are unlikely suspects, but you never know. The killer is bound to be one of computer nerds in the club. The police don’t know these people like I do.”

“Like you do? You only met them a week and a half ago!” John pulled himself up taller and tilted his head back just enough so he was literally looking down his nose at her.

The skin across Faith’s shoulders tingled as her hackles rose. She was sure John was unconscious of what he was communicating, but, done consciously or not, she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. “I’ve been a techie my entire career. I may have only met most of this group recently, but I know the type. I know how to talk to them. Maybe I can get them to open up where the police can’t.”

“Faith.” There was a pleading note in John’s voice now. “These gamers are dangerous. Adam told me how they harassed Mira and threatened her before one of them killed her.”

Darn! She’d been hoping to keep that information from John. She knew how protective he was—not that she hadn’t appreciated his help when she needed it in the past—but she had no intention of losing her independence in order to make him feel comfortable. She could feel the tightness around her mouth as she responded with stubborn silence.

John tried again. “What if gaming had nothing to do with Mira’s death? What if a love triangle was at the center of the murder? Cathy and Adam are still part of the group. Who’s to say they weren’t the ones posting hateful messages?”

Faith shook her head. “I read some of those messages, and I don’t think Cathy or Adam wrote them. Besides, neither of them has the ‘skilz’ to set up the anonymous identities. Adam’s a blogger and Cathy’s a graphic designer. They’re not computer geeks.”

John’s face turned tomato red and his words exploded out of his mouth. “You read some of those messages and you still want to get involved in this?” His breath came in quick pants, stopped. He took two long, deep inhalations. “Faith, I understand you feel you have to set everything right. You’re driven to ferret out murderers and prove your friends innocent. But this is a dangerous hobby you’ve gotten into. I can’t guarantee I’ll always be there to rescue you. I’d hate for you to come to harm. This is a job for the police,” he said with finality.

John had pushed his way to the heart of it. Yes, she wanted to set things right. She wanted to make up for all the things that had been wrong in her life, things out of her control at the time because she was too young and too powerless to do anything about them. She was a grown-up now. She had the power to fix things, to make sure wrongdoers were brought to justice, and the innocent protected.

“Don’t you understand?” Tears filled her eyes, clutched at her throat. “I couldn’t do anything when my father died. I couldn’t do anything when Karl died. But I can do something about Mira.”

The room was empty now. Hope and Lorna had taken the serving pieces to the kitchen to wash up, leaving her and John standing alone in the middle of the large hall.
Alone.

Before John came into her life, she’d tried to ignore how alone she felt in the world, but there was always an undercurrent, a subterranean river of loneliness that sometimes broke through to the surface and devastated her until she was able to push it back underground. She knew she could go on without him. But she definitely didn’t want to.

Seeing her hesitation, John took her hand, stroked it. “If you can’t refrain from jumping into danger because of yourself, and you won’t do it because of me, think of Luke. The two of you have bonded almost as if you were his mother. I can’t put him in danger, and I don’t want to tell him he won’t see you any more.”

Faith had never thought of herself as the motherly type, but she had to admit being around John’s little boy had made her see life in a new light. She weighed her urge to solve the murder against the possible loss of both Luke and John. And knew which was most important to her. With her heart squeezed by regret at abandoning the hunt, she said, “You’re right. I’ll leave this one to the authorities.”

Surprisingly, the gamers hadn’t balked at having another meeting at the Prickly Pear Café, so a few days after Mira’s memorial, they assembled in the restaurant as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the last time. Faith was happy for Hope. Perhaps the restaurant’s business wouldn’t suffer as much as she’d feared.

“Ha, ha, ha! Blubber Belly is here!” The splashes of red and green and yellow on Dennis’s Hawaiian shirt magnified his size. And almost blinded Faith.

Derek, Paul, and, er, Bob, if she remembered the balding man’s name correctly, turned toward Dennis’s announcement. For a moment Faith thought there might be too much lemon in the iced tea from the way the three faces puckered up.