Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(15)

“I think I’m in trouble,” he said. “Something bad happened to Clark.”

“The bad thing that happened… did you do it?”

“No! I went to his house because I got a message from O.W. I needed to talk to Clark face-to-face, but when I got to his place Clark was on the floor. There was blood and I was pretty sure he was dead. I didn’t get real close. I ran out and called the police. And then I watched from a block away. I saw all the emergency vehicles come and the crime scene tape went up. And I knew you were there because I saw you come out with Diesel. You went right past me on the motorcycle, but you didn’t see me. Clark is dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Melvin was pale and his eyes were swimming in tears. “I think I might be next.”

I unlocked my apartment door, ushered Melvin into the living room, and sat him on the couch. I got him a bottle of water and called Diesel.

“I’m having a situation,” I said. “Melvin is here.”

“Where’s here?”

“My apartment.”

“What’s he doing in your apartment?”

“He’s worried.”

Ten minutes later, Diesel arrived. Melvin had some color back in his face, but he was still shaky.

“Let’s take it from the top,” Diesel said.

“I got a message from O.W. tonight,” Melvin said. “It was sent to a private messaging account that only existed between me and Clark.”

“What did it say?”

“Retribution,” Melvin said.

“How do you know it was from Oswald?”

“He has a symbol that he uses with his inner circle. He signed the message with his symbol. I’m sure it was his way of telling me that he knows I hacked him.”

“And then?” Diesel asked.

“I went to show Clark, but he was dead. I ran out and called the police and hid.”

“Did you talk to the police?” Diesel asked.

“No! I’m a hacker. I have a record. I called them on a burner phone.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Why were you carrying a burner phone?”

“It’s part of the business. I don’t want my clients to know my identity.”

“Or the police or the FBI?”

“Yeah, those, too.”

“Understood,” Diesel said. “Why are you here?”

“I’m afraid to go back to my loft. I thought I could, you know, hang out here until you catch Oswald.”

“I appreciate your problem,” I said, “but you can’t stay here.”

Melvin looked at Diesel. “How about if I hang with you?”

“Not gonna happen,” Diesel said. “Can’t you stay with a friend?”

“My friend is dead,” Melvin said.

“Is he your only friend?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the Baked Potatoes?” Diesel asked.

“I only know them online. I don’t exactly know where they live. And if I did know where they live, I might not want to go there.”

I exchanged a sideways look with Diesel.

“Do you want to elaborate on that?” I asked Melvin.

“Clark and I have known each other since high school. The rest of our group came together through various IRCs.”

“What’s an IRC?” I asked.

“Internet Relay Chat. Our goal was to hack the super hacker. It was a fun challenge. A game. We thought O.W. was a genius. We thought he would be impressed. We didn’t know he was a homicidal maniac.”

“Can you get in touch with the rest of the Baked Potatoes?”

“I’ve tried. The Baked Potatoes communicate through a super secure messenger app. Turns out it wasn’t secure enough to keep out O.W. He’s blocked my account. I’m sure I can break through the block, but I need a place to work.”

My cell phone buzzed, and I saw that it was Lula.

“Hey, girlfriend,” she said. “I’ve been out and about, and I got to talk to some of the Whip Bitches. So far, I haven’t found anyone who had a business relationship with Oswald. How’s it going on your end?”

“It’s complicated on my end,” I said. “Do you remember Melvin Schwartz?”

“No.”

“He’s a local hacker who was bonded out a couple times by Vinnie. It turns out he’s remotely connected to Oswald. And it turns out that Melvin has a friend who was also remotely connected to Oswald, and this friend just got dead, not in a good way.”

“There’s almost never a good way to get dead,” Lula said.

“True,” I said, “but this was really not good. Anyway, Melvin is here in my apartment because he’s afraid he might be next on the to get dead list.”

“I’m obviously missing some key elements to this situation,” Lula said. “There’s more to the story, right?”

“Right. Bottom line is that he can’t go back to his loft and he’s looking for a safe place to stay.”

“And?”

“And do you want him?”

“What does he look like?” Lula asked. “Does he look like a good time?”

“He looks like the Pillsbury Doughboy.”