The pained expression on her face told me I had not heard incorrectly. "Dad's tried everything to convince Kevin. Reasoning, threatening, five-year plans, and even some low level bribery. Mom said it was her turn to try this time. She minored in musical theatre in college."
I took a step back, suddenly not sure if I wanted to go inside. "Maybe we should text Kevin."
"Great idea." Sam pulled out her phone, typing up our plea.
She sent it off and we waited, listening to the music pick up inside, Mr. Kramer's voice taking on a loud frantic rhythm as Mrs. Kramer wailed alongside him. Then we heard the pounding of footsteps, Kevin's muffled voice, and an abrupt stop to the song as the front door flew open and Kevin practically launched himself out onto the porch, slamming the door behind him.
He was wearing a "Save the Bees" T-shirt and cargo pants with Cheeto dust on the thighs. His hair was pulled into a messy manbun, and he wore a wide-eyed stare that suggested he'd just witnessed something terrible.
"Hey," he said. "Thanks for the save."
"We need a car. Can we borrow the Green Machine?" Sam clasped her hands in a pleading position in front of her. "We promise to be back in—"
He was shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. "No way am I staying here. I'll take you wherever you need to go. I just can't take any more Hamilton."
I stifled another snort of laughter. Poor Kevin.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later we were standing in front of Sophia Larson's totally cute pink wreathed door again, Kevin in tow. We'd tried to tell him he could just drop us off, but after he'd learned we were going to see a gorgeous model, he'd insisted on tagging along.
I knocked on the door just below the pink wreath and waited. A beat later, Sophia swung it open wide, an expectant expression on her face that quickly transformed into a frown as recognition dawned in her eyes. She looked like she'd gotten some rest since the last time we'd seen her. The sunglasses were gone, and her eyes weren't as red. Her hair was blown out and styled in loose waves that fell around her shoulders, though she was still dressed in mourning black. This time a pair of skinny jeans and a loose tunic.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyes going from me to Sam to Kevin standing just behind us.
"Uh, hi, Sophia. We were here yesterday. Hartley and Sam," I said, jogging her memory.
"I know." She glanced to Kevin. "The reporters."
"Right," Sam said. "And this is my brother, Kevin."
"'Sup, dude." Kevin lifted a hand in greeting.
Sophia's frown deepened. "I told you everything I knew yesterday."
"Actually, we just had a couple of follow-up questions."
"What kind of questions?" she asked, leaning her hip against the doorframe.
"About Connor's manager. Jason Pruit."
Sophia thought about that a second before she stepped back to allow us entry. "Sure. I guess."
"Thanks," I told her, pushing past her into the stark white living room.
I had a small moment of pause, thinking of Kevin's Cheeto-dusted pants, but luckily he didn't sit, instead wandering around the room, looking at the various pieces of furniture as if doing a home décor inspection.
"Dude, this place is sweet," Kevin said, running a hand over a furry white pillow.
"Uh, thanks," Sophia said. "It's new. I've only been here a few months."
"How much it set you back?" Kevin asked.
Sophia looked uncomfortable. "It's a gated community."
"I've been thinking of getting my own place," he said, plopping down on the sofa, displacing a couple of fluffy pillows in the process. "Something like this would be swank." He paused. "Hey, you need a roommate?"
"It's only a one bedroom," Sophia said quickly.
"That's cool. I'm chill on the couch." Kevin gave her a big grin, showing off a slightly orange incisor. "And I cook, dude."
As far as I knew the only things Kevin cooked were cup-o-noodles and funny brownies.
Sophia blinked at him a moment before turning her big blue eyes on Sam and me. "Was there something you want to know about Jason?" She slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, as far from Kevin as possible.
"Well," I said, sitting in a chair opposite her as Sam did the same. "For starters, did you know that Connor and his manager argued?"
Her thick eyebrows rose. "They argued?"
Sam nodded. "At Gamer Con. About an hour before…before Connor passed," she said.
Sophia bit her lip and shook her head. "No. I didn't know that."
"Weren't you there with Connor?" I asked.
"Yes, but I arrived late. It must have been after Jason left. I didn't even know he'd been there."
"Connor didn't mention his manager visiting him?" Sam pressed.
Sophia shook her head. "Sorry. But it isn't like Connor shared everything with me." Her frown was back, as if that thought was especially disturbing now that he was gone.
"What was their relationship like?" I asked.
Sophia sighed, leaning back against the sofa and pulling a fuzzy pillow onto her lap. "Strained."
I shot Sam a look. That was promising.
"Strained how?" I asked.
"Jason could be overbearing. He said Connor had to maintain a certain type of image. And Jason controlled what that was."
I nodded. His partner had described much the same thing. "Did Connor resent that?" I asked.
Sophia nodded. "Sometimes. But sometimes he needed the guidance too. Connor was a whiz with a computer, but you know how those guys are. Not always the most socially adept, you know?"
"Dude, I totally know what you mean," Kevin piped up from the sofa. "It's like, some people just don't get how to act around other humans, right?" He put his feet up on Sophia's white coffee table.
"Right," she said, frowning at Kevin's bare toes sticking out of his Birkenstocks. "Anyway, Connor was just a kid when he signed with Jason, and I swear Jason still saw him that way. Like Jason never wanted him to grow up or make his own decisions."
"I wonder what that would be like," I mumbled, not at all thinking of the SMother.
"Could that be what they argued about at the con?" Sam asked. "Jason being overbearing? Too controlling?"
Sophia shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. But I know Connor was tired of Jason controlling his life. After he signed with VizaSoft, Connor had kind of made it, you know? He didn't need Jason micro-managing everything."
"Did he tell Jason that?" I asked.
"I dunno." Sophia shrugged again. "But it's possible. I mean, Jason was worse than a helicopter mom, the way he hovered over Connor."
"Dude." Kevin shook his head. "Parents. They're the worst. Mine are trying to kick me out."
"Imagine that." Sophia shot a glance at his feet on her white stone table again.
"What do you think Jason would have done if, say, Connor had decided once and for all he'd had enough of Jason controlling him?" I asked, a motive forming in my head.
"I dunno," Sophia said again, picking at lint on the fluffy pillow in her hands.
"Could Connor have done that?" Sam asked. "Got to his breaking point with Jason and fired him?"
"It's possible," Sophia decided, nodding.
"How do you think Jason would have taken that?" I pressed.
Sophia let out a bark of laughter. "He would have died. Connor is like, his biggest client." She paused. "Or was."
I leaned forward in my seat. "Sophia, do you think Jason might have been angry enough to kill Connor?"
"Dude!" Kevin said. "Harsh!"
But if Sophia was shocked at my suggestion, she didn't show it. Instead her face was blank for a beat as she contemplated that. Then she slowly nodded.
"Yes. Yes I do."
* * *
"So, Connor fires Pruit, they argue, and Pruit kills him?" Kevin said, laying out the theory as we walked back to the Green Machine.
"I could see it play out that way." Sam nodded.
"Only, Raley's e
yewitness saw Connor and Pruit argue at ten. Connor wasn't killed until Sophia went to the restroom at ten forty-five," I reminded her.
"Right." Sam pursed her lips together. "Okay, so Pruit leaves after the argument and comes back later to kill Connor?"
"Could be," I agreed as we turned the corner toward the parking garage. "But it would hardly be a spur of the moment thing, then. I mean, he'd have had plenty of time to calm down."
"Or work himself up," Kevin argued. "Maybe the more he thought about it, the more angry he got."
I contemplated that thought as we reached the car and Kevin unlocked the doors. "In that case, it was premeditated murder. Pruit planned it out."
Sam nodded. "He could have come back to the VizaSoft booth, waited until he saw Sophia leave to get a moment alone with Connor, then slipped in and killed him."
I shivered despite the warm morning. "That's pretty cold. Especially if he saw Connor as a son."
"Sophia said Pruit saw Connor as a kid still," Sam pointed out as we slipped into the Green Machine. "She never said he saw Connor as his kid."
"Good point," I told her. I glanced at the dash clock as Kevin started the car with a french fry scented cough. "The con starts soon. Think we should go straight there?"
"Uh, negative," Sam said hotly. "I can't go looking like this."
I took in her jeans and lavender T-shirt. "You look fine to me."
She shook her head. "Fine for school. Way sub-par for the con. No, I've got a whole costume picked out at home."
I looked at the clock again. "I told Chase we'd meet him as soon as the con opened."
"I'll be quick, I promise," she said, nodding for Kevin to make a right out of the garage—toward the Kramers' house and not downtown.
I sighed, leaning back against the cracked vinyl seats. "Fine," I relented.
"Trust me, it will be worth it," Sam assured me with a grin.
* * *
Twenty minutes later we pulled up to the Kramers' house. Though instead of parking, Kevin idled at the curb, clouds of stale taco-scented exhaust forming around us. His eyes were on the cheery front door adorned with a flowery wreath.
"You coming inside?" Sam asked as she stepped out of the car.
Kevin looked wary. "That depends. You think they're done butchering Broadway?"
I swallowed a grin. "Well that depends—you actually contemplating moving to Santana Row?"
Kevin shot me a look. "Dude. I can't afford that."
I wasn't surprised. Kevin couldn't afford a pack of gum.
However he did surprise me by shooting back, "But I might see if any of my buddies have a room for rent."
Sam and I shared a look. What do you know—maybe Mrs. Kramer was on to something.
"In fact, maybe I'll go visit one of them right now," Kevin decided, eyes still on the closed front door as if it might spring to life and start singing about The Room Where It Happens.
"Good luck," Sam said, giving him a wave as he made a hasty escape down the street.
I followed her inside—where thankfully the Kramers were giving their vocals a rest—and up to her room, where she immediately began pulling items out of her closet.
I sat on the edge of her bed as she got dressed, typing up some notes on my phone from our interview with Sophia. By the time I was done, she was just putting the finishing touches on her outfit.
"Ta-da!" she said, striking a pose in front of me.
She had on a white sleeveless top with a giant red bow pinned to her chest, accented by a red choker at her throat. Her legs were encased in a pair of red knee-high socks that looked as if she had sewn white bands along the top of them and added a little gold detail, below a blue pleated miniskirt. A pair of long white gloves covered her arms, and her hair was pulled up in two gravity-defying pigtails.
"Wow, you look great," I said, meaning it. I wasn't totally sure who she was, but she looked like she'd fit right in at the con.
"Thanks," she said. "Kyle helped me put it together the other night. It's kinda old-school, but I remember watching her on the Cartoon Network." She looked at me sheepishly. "So, can you tell who I am?"
I bit my lip. "You know I'm not great with these characters."
She frowned. "Shoot. I didn't do the face right, did I? I mean, I was going to put paler makeup on and do some really rosy cheeks, but we're short on time."
I shook my head. "No, I'm sure it's perfect." I paused. "I just don't know who it is."
"Sailor Moon! You know, from the anime series?"
"Of course." I was still drawing a blank, but I played along for Sam's sake.
"So, I was thinking," Sam said, turning to her closet. She pulled out a backpack full of black plastic guns with orange tips in various shapes and sizes. "I found some of Kevin's old toy guns."
"What are they for?" I asked.
"Your costume."
"My costume?" I shook my head.
"Come on. You're going to stick out like a sore thumb," she said, her pigtails hitting her ceiling fan as she stepped over her bed to the dresser.
"I'm going to look normal."
"Not at Gamer Con." She put her hands on her hips. "I look normal."
She had a point. "Fine, but hurry. Chase is going to be waiting."
She clapped her hands together with obvious glee.
My trepidation kicked up a notch.
Sam rummaged in her dresser then turned around and shoved a handful of clothing at me—a long-sleeved navy shirt and a short-sleeved red T. "Put these on. Your jeans work fine."
"For what?" I asked, complying as I stripped off the pink T-shirt I'd thrown on that morning in lieu of Sam's offering.
"This backpack, a gun, a ponytail, and some survivor-type makeup by moi, and you'll be set," she said, clearly in her zone.
"As who?" I pressed.
She rolled her eyes. "Ellie from The Last of Us. You really need to keep up."
While she was brushing my hair away from my face, I googled Ellie and discovered she was the second lead character in a post-apocalyptic game where she was immune to a widespread infection. Cool. I could do that. Especially if I could wear my jeans and Converse.
"She's a good character, and she curses a lot," Sam said while tugging on my hair, making sure it wasn't too sleek looking. "Unfortunately, your hair is the wrong color. Ellie's is more reddish brown." She frowned at my ponytail. "I guess we could dye it."
"I think I'm good," I said, ducking out of her clutches.
She shrugged. "Close enough." Then she started in on my makeup to make me look less California middle class and more surviving in the dystopian streets.
When she was done, I admired her work and had to admit, the effect was kinda cool. I could get into this girl warrior thing.
"Ready?" she asked, her eyes shining.
Maybe it was the Nerf guns, but I felt ready for anything. "Ready."
* * *
As soon as we arrived at the con, Sam got a text from Kyle, who planned to meet up with us later after rugby practice. Sam pulled me in close for a selfie with her in front of the huge Gamer Con sign as we waited in line just inside the main entrance to the convention center to have our passes scanned.
News of Connor's death hadn't seemed to affect the turnout that day at all. If anything, the place looked even more crowded than it had on the first day. While there was a smattering of people dressed in street clothes, most had gone all out in cosplay outfits, and I spotted several groups that looked like they'd coordinated to match. Some zombies converged near the entrance, and I could see a whole gaggle of scantily clad Mortal Combat ninja-ettes freezing in the ticket line to our left.
I felt my phone vibrate at my hip and looked down to find a text from Chase.
Where r u?
I glanced around for a landmark. Near the giant monkey guy.
monkey guy?
donkey kong?
That earned me a laughing emoji, and a couple of minutes later I spotted Chase's form walking toward us.
Predictably, he'd arrived again in street clothes—a pair of black jeans, a black T-shirt with a picture of a severed horse head on the front, and black combat boots. His hair was done in messy spikes in a way that looked nonchalant and trendy all at the same time, and he nodded as he approached us.
"Hey," he said. He turned to my companion, who was still texting Kyle. "Looking good, Sailor," he said, a half smile playing on his lips.
"Thanks," she told him, not even looking up. She was writing a book.
"You too, Ellie," he added. The other half of the smile curved as he looked my outfit up and down.
Even though I had zero skin showing, somehow I felt exposed under his gaze and willed myself not to blush. "It's Sam's doing," I mumbled.
He shrugged. "She done good. So, how's the story coming?" he asked, suddenly all business.
As we moved through the line and inside the main hall, I quickly filled him in on what we'd seen in Raley's notes the night before, our visit to Sophia's that morning, and our suspicions about Jason Pruit. "It's possible Connor could have been fed up with his manager controlling him," I concluded.
"And Pruit killed him over it," Sam added.
Chase nodded. "I guess it all depends on what sort of temper the manager has." He turned to me. "You didn't get the name of the eyewitness in Raley's book, did you?"
I shook my head. "He didn't write it down."
Chase shrugged. "Well, I think it's a cool angle for the story. Different from what the mainstream media is going with, right?"
"Right," I agreed, feeling a little lift of pride at his praise. "We tried calling Pruit's office, but he's out until tomorrow."
Chase nodded. "Well, in the meantime, maybe we can get some photos of the VizaSoft booth. Maybe even ask around and see if we can find anyone who witnessed their argument."
"You think Raley's eyewitness is here today?" Sam asked as we made our way into the main hall.
"It's possible. If he had passes for the whole weekend."
"Or she," I noted, pushing through the sea of bodies. "But what are the chances we'll find them in all these people?"
Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3) Page 7