“What kind of person commits such a horrible crime?” my mother said. “It’s terrible.”
“It could be worse,” Grandma said. “At least he didn’t have his face shot off like Lenny Gollinni. If you’re just missing part of your tongue, you can still have a viewing with an open casket.”
The ritual of death was important in the Burg. It was your last chance to look good.
“Your laundry is in the dryer if you want to wait for it,” my mother said.
I shook my head. “I’ll get it tomorrow. I just stopped by to say good night and get my car.”
“Is Morelli out there?” my mother asked.
“No,” I said. “Someone gave me a ride. Morelli is still working.”
CHAPTER SIX
I parked in the lot to my apartment building, pushed through the back door to the small lobby, and took the stairs to the second floor. I looked down the hall and saw Melvin pacing in front of my apartment.
“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?”