“Electrical engineering,” he said. “Kevin would have won the match. He always does. My sword is no match for his axes. He even took fighting classes.”
“You and Kevin have fought before?” Jack asked.
“Sure,” Dwight said, finally taking a sip of water. “We’re on the same live action Dungeons & Dragons team. We always act out our own fights. We all take our favorite video game character and then enhance it and give it a full story.”
Color was coming back into Dwight’s cheeks as he talked about his passion.
“How many of you are on the team?” I asked.
“Umm…” Dwight closed his eyes again. “Seven full-time players. Two part-time players who have temp characters written in whenever we need to expand the storyline.”
I could practically hear Jack’s thoughts. This was a level of nerd that far surpassed Sheldon.
“Why’d you kill Kevin?” Jack asked, switching up the questioning to keep Dwight off guard.
It worked, because Dwight crushed the paper cup in his hand and water spilled on the black leather pants he wore.
“I didn’t…I mean…I was supposed to beat him. I wanted to win. But I didn’t mean to kill him. I don’t know what happened. It’s never happened like that before. Kevin just stopped fighting and he stood there. And then he started twitching and I went in for the next blow. The more blows, the more points. I just wanted to win. I never win.”
Jack took the plastic bag from the desk and opened it slowly so the hilt of the sword showed.
“No!” Dwight yelled, pushing his chair back to put space between himself and the sword. “Don’t touch it! Don’t touch it!” And then he leaned over and threw up on his pointed shoes.
Jack called for the EMTs and had Plank ride with Dwight to the emergency room to get checked out. Once he was stable Plank would bring him back to the sheriff’s office and put him in holding so he could be questioned again.
We handed off the sword to the evidence tech, and saw Chief Slack on our way back inside and he told us where we could find the event coordinator.
“What do you think about Dwight Parr?” I asked Jack as we took the elevator to the upper level where the press box was located.
Jack blew out a breath. “I have no idea. I feel sorry for the kid, but we need to talk to him sooner rather than later. I want to get a list of all the people in his D&D club, and I want to know if or how he enhanced that sword.”
“Do you think he did it on purpose?” I asked.
“That’s not for us to say right now,” Jack said. “No matter what the circumstances, Dwight Parr killed another person. It’s a homicide. Now whether or not it was murder is our job to figure out. We’re going to have to hold him no matter what. Whether or not we charge him depends on what the evidence says.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, annoyed with the whole process. “But just for the record, I don’t think he had a clue what was going to happen. That was a pretty visceral reaction back there.”
“Lots of people react that way when they kill someone, especially after the first time,” Jack said. “Either the excitement has to have an outlet, or maybe it wasn’t what they expected it to be. Not everyone spends as much time around dead people as we do. A lot of people have never seen a dead person at all, much less one who was killed in such a horrific way. He’ll have nightmares.”
“There are going to be a lot of people having nightmares tonight,” I said.
A woman came out of a narrow hallway right in front of us, and Jack and I both stopped in our tracks so we wouldn’t run into her.
“That’s why we’ve got counselors on standby to talk to any of the staff or students who might need extra help getting through this tragedy,” she said.
She was a couple of inches shorter than I was with black hair cut in a sleek, chin-length bob, and gorgeous skin the color of espresso. Her lipstick was scarlet and matched her shoes and the silk shell beneath her black suit.
She held out a slim hand, and I noticed the gold wedding band on her finger, but it was the only jewelry she wore. She offered her hand first to Jack, and then to me.
“You must be Sheriff Lawson and Dr. Graves.”
“And you are?” Jack asked.
“Elsa Taylor,” she said, giving him a full-wattage smile. “Public relations. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Ahh,” Jack said. “We won’t keep you from your work then. I’m sure you’re very busy. We were told Trish Johnson is up here.”
Elsa didn’t let her smile slip at the easy dismissal. “She’s right inside the press box with Dr. Coleman and our team. It’s been a tragic day for everyone. Go right on in. They’re expecting you. And please, let me know if I can be of any help.”
“Thank you,” Jack said, taking the card she offered. “We’ll see ourselves in.”
She nodded and moved around us, her heels clicking all the way to the elevator.
“She seems exhausting,” I said as we moved toward the press box door.
Jack pulled on the handle and held it open so I could walk through, but I stopped just across the threshold and Jack had to move around me to get by. It felt like we were walking into a firing squad, and the chill in the air was palpable, though I had no idea why.
The room was big and open and was segmented into three arced desks that gave a bird’s-eye view to the court below. Green chairs were lined behind the desks, and each space had a phone and a plug built right into the surface. Behind the desks was a long mahogany table, and five of the cushioned chairs were occupied by very serious-looking people—four men and a woman.
One of the men stood and said, “Jack, come on in and let me introduce you to everyone.” He was in his mid-fifties, trim and in good shape. He wore a suit and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that added to an already academic appearance.
Jack raised his brows and I could feel the tenseness in him, but he stood his ground. “Jim,” Jack said. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just need to speak to you and your event coordinator for a few minutes and get a basic idea of what happened today.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jim said. “We figured it was best to go ahead and get everything done here together since our attorneys are already on-site. Just to make sure everyone is protected. You understand, of course. Congratulations on the election win by the way,” he said, his smile so fake I almost laughed out loud. “I haven’t had a chance to see you since before the holidays. Rita and I were real proud to donate to your campaign.”
Jack smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Now, Jim, you’re telling me you called in your attorneys for a formal interview when all I want to know are a few simple answers to a few simple questions. I just need a couple of minutes with both of you. A boy is dead, and the longer we stand around doing this, the longer it takes to find out what happened to him.”
“Sheriff Lawson,” one of the other men at the table said. “I’m John Horowitz with Lampman, Horowitz, and Crawford. Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll get this done so you can get back to work.”