His friends and partners, his girlfriend, the sad sack Roland, Dubrosky, DuVaugne. She scanned the list of employees, of accounts, the financial data, the time line as she knew it and the sweepers’ reports.

Competition, she thought, business, ego, money, money, money, passion, naivete, security. Games.

Games equaled big business, big egos, big money, big passions, and the development thereof, big security.

Somewhere along the line that security had failed and one or more of the other elements snuck through to kill Minnock.

“I heard you made an arrest,” Roarke said from behind her.

“Not on the murder, not yet. But it may connect. They’ll push this project through, this game, without him. Not just because it’s what they do, but because they wouldn’t want to let him down.”

“Yes, it’ll be bumpier, and there may be a delay, but they’ll push it through.”

“Then what’s the point of killing him.” She shook her head, dropped her feet back to the floor. “Let’s go take a walk through the scene.”

She let Roarke drive so she could continue to work on her notes, determine who among those interviewed needed a second pass, and who she still needed to contact.

“I’ve got a buzz out to his lawyer-on vacation. She’s cutting it short and I’m meeting with her in the morning. She was a friend,” Eve added. “She seems inclined to give me whatever I need, and already outlined some basic terms of his partnership agreement and will. Nearly everything goes to his parents, but his share of U-Play is to be divided among the three remaining partners. It’s a chunk.”

“Are you thinking one or more of them decided to eliminate him so they’d have a bigger slice of the pie?”

“Can’t write it off. But sometimes money isn’t the whole deal.” Money, she thought, was often the easiest button to push but not the only button. “Sometimes it’s not even in the deal. Still, I can’t write it off. You said they’d probably have some bumps and some delay in getting this new game out, but they’re going to reap a whirlwind of publicity so it seems to me when it hits, it’ll hit big. Would that be your take?”

“It would-and it will. Even though we have a similar game and system about to launch, it’s a considerable leap in gaming tech. And they’ll have a lot of media focused on them due to Bart’s death, and the method. It’ll give them a push, but for the long haul? Losing him is a serious blow.”

“Yeah, but some don’t think long haul. And conversely, from a competitive standpoint, if you cut off the head-literally and figuratively-you’re banking that the delay’s long enough to give you time to beat the jump. They may be partners, and all bright lights, but Bart was the head. That’s how it strikes me.”

“I’d agree. And, if it’s business? It feels more like competition than any sort of bid for splashy media attention. I can’t see that, Eve.”

Maybe not, she thought, but it was a by-product. “What do you know about game weapons-the toys used in a game, vid props, replicas, collector’s items.”

“They can be and are intriguing, and certainly can command stiff prices, particularly at auction.”

“You collect.” She shifted to study his profile. “But you mostly collect real.”

“Primarily, yes. Still, it’s an area of interest for anyone in the field, or serious about gaming. Game weapons run from the basic and simple to the intricate and complex, and everything between. They can and do add an element of immediacy and realism, a hands-on.”

He glanced at her. “You enjoy weapons.”

“I like knowing I’ve got one. One that does what it needs to do when I need it to do it.”

“You’ve played the games. You’re a competitive soul.”

“What’s the point of playing if winning isn’t the goal?”

“We stand on the same side there.”

“But a game’s still a game,” she pointed out. “A toy’s a toy. I don’t understand the compulsion to live the fantasy. To outfit your office like the command center of some fictional starship.”

“Well, for the fun or the escape, though no doubt some take it too far. We should go to an auction some time, just so you can experience it. Gaming and the collecting that’s attached to it, it’s an interesting world.”

“I like toys.” She shrugged. “What I don’t get is why anyone would spend millions on some play sword wielded by some play warrior in a vid or interactive.”

“Some might say the same about art. It’s all a matter of interest. In any case, some pieces of interest to collectors would be based on those vid props, and used in various games, or simply displayed. Depending on the accessibility, the age, the use, the base, they can be valuable to collectors. We routinely issue special limited editions of some weapons and accessories, just for that reason.”

“How about an electrified sword?”

He braked for a red light, then smiled at her. “You’d have your fire sword, your charged-by-lightning, your stunner sword and so on. They’d give off a light show, appropriate sound effects-glow, sizzle, vibrate, that sort of thing. But no game prop would do more than give an opponent a bit of a buzz. They’re harmless.”

“You could doctor one?”

“I could, and bottom out its value on any legitimate market. There are regulations, Eve, safety requirements-and very strict ones. You’d never get anything capable of being turned into an actual weapon through screening. It wasn’t a game prop that killed Bart.”

“A replica then, made specifically for the purpose. A killing blade that carries enough of an electric current to burn.”

He cruised through the green, said nothing for a moment as he swung toward the curb in front of Bart’s building. “Is that what did him?”

“That’s what we have at this point.” She got out after Roarke parked. “That tells me it wasn’t enough to kill. There had to be gamesmanship, too. It had to be fun or exciting for the killer. Whoever did it had to be part of it, part of the game. And he played to win. I have to figure out what he took home as his prize.”

“Lieutenant.” The doorman stepped away from his post. “Is there any progress? Do you know who killed Bart-Mr. Minnock?”

“The investigation’s ongoing. We’re pursuing all leads. Has anyone tried to gain access to his apartment?”

“No. No one’s been up there since your people left. He was a nice guy. Hardly older than my son.”

“You were on duty when he got home yesterday.” It had all been asked before, she knew, but sometimes details shook out in the repetition. “How was his mood?”

“He was whistling. Grinning. I remember how it made me grin right back. He looked so damn happy.”

“And no one came in after him, or before him, who might have access to his apartment?”

“No one. Quiet yesterday. You remember the weather we had? People stayed in, mostly, if they didn’t have to go anywhere. Hardly anyone in or out all day, and I knew all of them.”

“Did he have any trouble with anyone in the building? Any complaints?”

“He was a friendly guy, easygoing, but maybe a little shy, a little quiet. I never heard him complain about anybody, or anybody complain about him.”

She shifted angles. “Maybe he was particularly friendly with one of the other tenants?”

“Well, the kids, sure.”

And there, she thought, a new detail. “What kids?”

“The Sing kids, and the Trevor boy. We don’t have a lot of kids in the building. Couple of teenage girls, but they’re not so into the game scene. But the younger boys, they were big for Bart.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, he let them come up and play now and then, said they were his market research. Gave them some demos here and there, passed them new games before they hit the stores.”

“Were the parents okay with that?”

“Sure. He wouldn’t’ve done it otherwise. In fact, Dr. Sing joined in sometimes. He’s more into strategy games and like that than the action stuff the kids like. Those kids are taking it hard, really hard, since the news got out. Well, the Sing kids. The Trevors are on vacation, so I don’t know if they heard about it.”