Fantasy in Death - J. D. Robb [72]
“Correct.”
“Otherwise, from my outside observer’s view, Var and Bart were like two parts of the same whole.”
“Some people get tired of being a part, and want the whole.”
“Such a cop,” he murmured. “They both enjoyed digging down into the business side of things, digging into the nuts and bolts of sales, distribution, marketing as much as the creative side. They enjoyed having each other for the checks and balances, fine-tuning each other’s concepts when it came to promotion, expansion, that sort of thing. Bart told me once when they met Var, it was like the last piece clicked on. I know what that’s like.”
Eve stretched out her legs, comfortable with the way he wound through irritable traffic. “And if they disagreed?”
“I can’t tell you how they worked things out as I wasn’t involved. But I never heard Bart express any sort of frustration on that score.”
“We’ll agree the victim was loyal and content with the status quo. That doesn’t mean Var, or any of the others were. Are.”
“There are considerably less messy ways of dissolving a partnership or changing the status quo.”
Her smile edged toward smirk. “Easier ways to get rid of a husband than cracking him open with a pipe wrench.”
“I believe I’m going to see that any tools we might have around the house are locked away. On to Benny. He’d be, to my mind, the most intellectual of the four. He enjoys spending his hours in research, sifting through details, theorizing about the underlying meaning of a game, and the reasons they’re played. He’ll research myths, real crimes, historical figures, wars and battles and strategies to add other layers to a game.”
“Good with details, strategy, and the art of combat.”
“You don’t seriously believe—”
“Just pointing out the facts.” She pulled out her PPC, added something to her notes. “When it comes down to it, they all had the means and the motive, and all could easily have arranged the opportunity. In fact, they all, or any two of them, might have planned it out together.”
“To what end, really?” Roarke asked. “U-Play will likely get a quick boost in sales from curiosity and the public’s thirst for scandal. But without Bart, they’re going to be set back on their heels, at least for a bit. He was, and this is from a business standpoint, essentially the glue that held those four parts together into a productive whole.”
Nodding, she keyed in more, spared Roarke an absent glance. “I agree with that. But that doesn’t account for ego, and again, that deep, passionate fury that only people who are intimate in some way can feel for one another. These four were intimate.”
“Family.”
“Yeah. And nobody kills more often than family.”
“In fact I believe I’ll have the tools taken out of the house altogether.” He swung over to grab a parking spot, and watched her frown.
“What’s this? I thought we were going home.”
“I see for once you were caught up enough in a game not to pay attention to your surroundings. I didn’t say home,” he reminded her. “I said dinner.”
“I haven’t updated my reports, or finished with the analysis of the runs. I have to run a full series of—”
As he stepped out and shut the door of the car, that was all he heard. He came around, opened her door. “Come on, Lieutenant, put it away for an hour. It’s a pretty night. Time for a little walk and a meal.”
“See?” She poked a finger in his chest when she got out. “This is why people in intimate relationships bash each other over the head.”
He took her hand, kissed it. “An hour shouldn’t kill either one of us.”
“I have to go through the game scenarios on the disc.”
“I’ve eliminated half of them. You’re looking for one that uses a sword. There’s only the two. Quest-1 and Usurper. The others involve more modern weaponry.”
“Still ...” She trailed off, and he saw when her annoyance faded enough for her to make the neighborhood. Just as he saw her smile bloom with surprise, and with pleasure, when she stopped in front of the hole-in-the-wall pizza joint.
“Polumbi’s. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It hasn