William Rabkin - Mind-Altering Murder

Frank scurried back in horror as far as he could, then cringed in terror as O’Hara’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Stop! Stop!”

The voice was coming from another doorway. Shawn and Gus whirled, their rifles raised, as a scrawny man with a thick beard and bad sunburn staggered toward them. He wore a filthy Tommy Bahama Hawaiian shirt, now mostly rags, and what were once expensive designer jeans.

“Why shouldn’t I take your head off?” Shawn said. “Morton would like that.”

The man went pale under his sunburn. “No,” he said. “You can’t think that way.”

“Why not?” Shawn said.

“Because it’s not the game,” the man said. “It’s real! This is all real.”

“What’s the difference?” Shawn said.

“The game, it’s just for play,” the man said. “You can’t let it infect you. The stuff you do in there for fun out here has terrible consequences.”

“You mean like when you’re driving down the street and you speed up to run over a homeless man?” Shawn said.

The man nodded silently.

“Even when you’re supposed to be hiding away in your blacksmith’s shop, waiting to see if anyone’s smart enough to figure out the clue you left in the game,” Shawn said.

O’Hara let out a gasp, then looked more closely at the homeless man. “This is Macklin Tanner.”

Lassiter looked disgusted. He spoke into the microphone on his sleeve. “Officers Carren, Carol, and Blain. Stand down.”

Behind them the three dead homeless men stood up and tried to brush some of the red paint off their clothes before heading over to Lassiter.

“I was going to leave another clue at the barn,” Tanner said. “Let them track me down to Bermuda. The first gamer who found me would win a million dollars.”

“But when you were still testing it out, you went for a drive to pick up some supplies,” Shawn said. “Walon O’Malley was crossing the street in front of you. And suddenly all you could think of was the points you’d score by killing him. After you hit him you were ashamed and terrified. You cut the car you’d killed him with into pieces and hid out down here.”

“I wasn’t just hiding,” Tanner said.

“I know,” Shawn said. “You were atoning. Living out the life you had taken.”

Tanner nodded, tears streaming down his face. “How did you know?”

“I’ve spent some time in Darksyde City,” Shawn said. “That librarian’s a real pain in the ass.”

O’Hara took Tanner by the wrists and slipped on the cuffs. “Macklin Tanner, you are under arrest for the hit-and-run death of Walon O’Malley.”

She handed him to the three undercover officers and walked with him to a waiting patrol car, reading him his rights as they went. Lassiter shrugged off his duster and let it drop to the ground, then followed.

“That was fun,” Shawn said. “What do you want to do next?”

“I don’t think Brenda Varda’s going to let us back into Darksyde City once we give her the news,” Gus said.

“That’s okay,” Shawn said. “I was pretty much done with Criminal Genius.”

“You never got to meet Morton,” Gus said.

“Criminal geniuses are overrated, anyway,” Shawn said. “Once you get up close they’re just normal people with bad impulse control.”

“Like us, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Shawn said. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I ditch you and you try to track me down?”

“That could be fun,” Gus said. “Want to give me a hint where you’re going?”

“Sure,” Shawn said. “If you track me through the San Francisco airport, make sure you save room for dessert.”