I'd have given anything to be able to hear what he and his officer were saying, but they were too far away. I leaned forward, straining over the noise of the spectators. Unfortunately, unless I learned to read lips, there was no way I was getting this convo.
Police swarmed everywhere, and I noticed several of them questioning people behind the yellow tape. I spotted the con organizer I'd seen earlier hugging her clipboard and a blonde woman in a little pink dress who was tall enough to tower over the officer beside her, both being questioned. The blonde was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, gesturing wildly with her hands as she answered the officer's questions.
I stood on tip-toe, trying to get Raley's attention over all the commotion. I watched the officer next to him gesture to the booth, Raley nod, then turn his gaze out over the crowd, slowly surveying the room with a stoic expression. That is, until his eyes stopped on me. Then the expression was a little less stoic and a little more scowlish.
I gave him a little one finger wave.
Which did nothing to alleviate the scowl. He left the officer, shoving his notebook into his jacket pocket before he made quick strides toward me.
"Hartley," he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
"Detective Raley."
"What are you doing here?"
"Me?" I asked, trying to infuse my voice with innocence. "Just eating a churro."
The scowl deepened, making thick creases between his strawberry blond eyebrows. "Why are you at my crime scene?"
"Hey, this was totally not a crime scene when I got here. It was just a convention."
While I thought that argument was quite convincing, this was at least the third time I'd shown up at one of his crime scenes. So I could see why he was suspicious.
"Does your mother know you're here?"
I shot him a look. Classic intimidation move, bringing the SMother into it.
"As a matter of fact, yes," I said. I didn't add that she had no idea a death had occurred here. "I'm here reporting on the con for the school paper," I explained.
Raley looked out over the assembled group of costumed onlookers again. "The con is suspended for today. Go home."
I shook my head. "Can't. Buses don't come by for another half hour."
Raley narrowed his eyes at me.
I put my hand (the one not holding the churro) up in a surrender motion. "Hey, don't blame me that California's public transportation sucks."
He grunted, though I wasn't sure if he was agreeing or disagreeing with me. Either way, I cleared my throat, getting to the point.
"So, Simon's dead, huh?" I asked.
Raley nodded. "It appears that way."
"What killed him?" I asked, doing my best at a nonchalant, conversational tone.
But Raley wasn't having it. "Go wait for the bus, Hartley."
"Come on, this is the biggest story ever."
"This is a police investigation," he told me.
"But I'm a member of the press. Don't I have any rights?"
"You're a member of a high school paper."
"At a public school. Which makes it a legitimate, government-sanctioned press."
Raley pinned me with a hard stare. Clearly my speech and debate skills were lost on him.
"Look, I'm sure all the gory details are going to leak out soon anyway. Heck, it's probably already all over YouTube," I told him, gesturing at the crowd around us. Sure enough, at least four Minecraft Creepers had their smart phones out, filming the crime scene tape as we spoke.
Raley frowned. While I was pretty sure he knew what YouTube was, he was a generation behind in his technological skills. He used computers to type up reports—not for entertainment.
"We won't have an official cause of death until the ME can examine the body," he said, his voice a flat monotone.
I rolled my eyes. "I didn't ask for the official cause of death, just how did he die?"
"You want to be official press? That's our official press release," Raley said.
I seriously had no idea what my mom saw in this guy. "You're killing me here. Anything? Just…was it an angry fan or did he choke on a Cheeto?"
Raley frowned again, though this time there was a hint of smile accompanying it. "Choke on a Cheeto? Where did you hear that?"
Dang. So much for my theory.
"So what did it?" I asked.
He shook his head.
But before he could shoot me down again, I quickly added, "The sooner I have my story, the sooner I can leave. And the less time I spend at a crime scene, the better mood my mom will be in later."
He narrowed his eyes at me again. But this time my logic must have hit a nerve, as he finally said, "Fine. Off the record…" Raley paused, glancing at the filming Creepers. "…which means I do not want to see you talking about it on YouTube."
I held up my hand. "I swear you won't." Something I could promise, as I knew Raley would never watch YouTube.
"It looks as though Simon sustained an injury to the head."
"So, he fell?" I asked, feeling Raley was holding something back.
"Something like that."
"Something like that or exactly that?" I asked, noticing he was avoiding my gaze.
He sighed. "It will be all over the news soon anyway," he said, though I'm not sure if he was reasoning with me or himself. "We believe the attack was intentional."
"Attack?" I asked, a clearer picture forming. "Wait—you mean someone killed Simon?"
"Keep your voice down," Raley shushed me, eyes flickering to the crowd.
"Who?" I hissed, my eyes darting around the room.
Raley shook his head. "It's too early to speculate. We need to process the evidence first."
Which I took to mean they hadn't found anyone standing over the body.
I glanced around at the assembled crowd. There was a good chance that the killer was still here, hidden in the costumed masses somewhere. I shivered at the realization.
"What did they hit him with?" I asked.
Raley sucked in more air, like he wasn't sure how many details to share. But, his earlier reasoning that it wasn't like he could keep all details out of the press anyway must have won him over, as he finally said, "It looks like he was hit on the back of the head with some sort of gaming console."
I cringed, almost feeling the weight of one at my own noggin.
"Any fingerprints? DNA? Clues?"
Raley shot me a look that said I'd reached the end of his generosity. "Go home, Hartley."
I sighed. "Fine."
"I'd offer you a ride," he said, gaze darting to a couple of CSIs who were threading through the crowd. "But it looks like I'm going to be here awhile."
"No prob. I came with Sam anyway," I said, gesturing behind me. Sam stood a few feet away, licking the last of her churro sugar off her fingers. Chase, however, was conspicuously absent. Not entirely surprising. Somehow he had a knack for disappearing when law enforcement was around.
Raley gave me a nod before going back to the VizaSoft booth, ducking inside to presumably view the body. Not something I envied him doing.
* * *