"Click that link," I told Sam.
"Which one?"
"That one!"
"Shhh!" a woman in a striped cardigan and knee socks told us, aiming a stern look our way.
We were at the Orange Blossom Library on Main Street the next day, sitting in one of their research cubes in the back, reading up on Connor Simon for my article. Or, I should say, my next article.
Getting the inside scoop from Raley had made Chase's eyes light up like Christmas, and while we'd sat outside the shut-down con waiting for the bus, we'd typed up a quick summary and posted it to the Homepage, getting it published just about as quickly as any news outlet. We'd immediately gotten a slew of comments and likes, and by the time Sam and I had gotten off the bus again, Chase had already texted me asking for a follow-up article as the investigation into Connor Simon's death progressed.
As if I'd be privy to more inside info.
Not likely, as Mom had had a near heart attack when I'd come home from the con and she'd found out why it had been shut down early that day. Not that she'd found out from me. I'd strategically waited until I'd seen her minivan leave for a Starbucks run before slipping into the house. But of course Raley had called her and told her all about it. Apparently, he and the SJPD had thought the incident warranted shutting the con down completely. But the con organizers—which included some big tech company backers who stood to lose a good deal of money if it was canceled—had argued to keep it open. A compromise had been reached, the con staying closed Sunday while police processed the scene and being allowed to reopen on Monday and extend an extra day in order to fit in all the events they had pre-planned. Raley had then given Mom just enough details about the crime itself that the SMother was activated in full force. I'd been on lockdown the rest of Saturday, and by Sunday morning she'd only calmed down enough to let me plead a case for meeting Sam at the library to do homework.
Being Sunday, the library was almost empty. It was also deadly quiet, which made the librarian look up in our direction every time we even threatened to whisper to each other.
"Click the link about his childhood," I whispered to Sam as she scrolled through search results.
She did, hitting a line of text that took us to a page with Simon's official bio on the VizaSoft website.
"Dude, he was so cute," Sam said as photos of the young Simon popped up. She scrolled down. "Whoa. And hot," she said, reaching more recent snapshots.
I had to agree, he wasn't altogether unpleasant to look at. He'd been in his early twenties, tall, and had blond hair that was cut long in front to give him a skater look. He wore slim jeans in the picture, with a dark T-shirt and a hoodie over it in a blue that brought out his eyes. I bit my lip. It was kind of eerie and sad at the same time to see a picture of someone so young who was so hot and so not there anymore.
"I wonder if I could get Kyle to start wearing his hair like that," Sam mused, cocking her head at the photo.
"I thought you liked Kyle's hair?" Kyle was Sam's boyfriend and head of the rugby team at school. He was currently sporting a buzz cut to avoid other players yanking his hair.
Sam sighed. "Yeah, I did at first, but…" She trailed off.
"But what?"
She turned to me. "But did you ever notice that Kyle has kind of an egg-shaped head?"
I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. "No way."
"Yes way!" Sam insisted, nodding. "And now all I can think every time I look at him is eggs." She sighed.
"I'm sure rugby season won't last forever," I reassured her.
"I hope not!"
"Shhhh!" the cardigan lady admonished us again.
I gave her an apologetic smile and made a zipping-my-mouth-shut-and-throwing-away-the-key motion.
Then Sam and I went back to the page, reading the article in silence.
Connor Simon was, as Ellen had mentioned, something of a gaming rock star. He'd started out as a player, taking the competitive gaming world of eSports by storm when he'd won his first national competition at age twelve. By age fifteen, he was considered unbeatable. At sixteen he'd taken on a partner to start his own company, Peak Games. They'd put out a total of four titles together, all set in the mythical world of ancient goddesses, before Simon had branched out on his own. He'd been picked up by gaming giant, VizaSoft, who were about to release his first solo game, the much anticipated Athena's Quest.
I sat back, having reached the end of the article, and chewed on a fingernail.
"I don't get it," Sam said, leaning in. "Why would anyone want him dead?"
I shrugged. Great question. "Maybe the game isn't as great as everyone thinks?"
"Or maybe it was personal and has nothing to do with his game," Sam pointed out. "I mean, don't they say most crimes are committed by loved ones?"
I remembered the tall, blonde woman I'd seen dabbing her eyes at the scene. She'd looked about Simon's age.
"Did he have a girlfriend?" I asked.
Sam shrugged then typed connor simon girlfriend into the search engine. A few seconds later we were looking at a bunch of photos of Simon and the same tall blonde—at the VGAs, at PAX Prime in Seattle last year, and at Comic-Con in San Diego. I couldn't help but notice that the girl bore a striking resemblance to the Athena character I'd seen in the posters for Connor's game.
"Sophia Larson," Sam said, reading the caption beneath one of the photos. "It says here she's a model."
Figured. At a hair under 5'2" myself, I had just a touch of height envy. Which I swear did not play into my next decision at all.
"Let's go talk to the girlfriend."
CHAPTER FOUR
Thanks to our friend Google and Sophia's many social media posts, we gleaned that she lived in a "totally cute" condo in Santana Row "totally close" to a "totally cute" new boutique that sold "totally cute" kitty cat handbags. While her vocabulary might not have been in the SAT range, we figured the description was good enough to get us close.
Half an hour and one bus ride later, we were at Santana Row, a planned neighborhood that was almost like a mini city all in itself. Bars and restaurants, a movie theater, and a ton of shops where you could buy everything from a Gucci bag to a Tesla car to paperback books from an actual Amazon bookstore. They all mingled together in neat rows amidst narrow streets engineered to be pedestrian friendly. Above the shops were condos and apartments that cost almost as much as their Manhattan counterparts. Sophia must have been a pretty popular model if she could afford to live there.
We walked past a gelato shop, a couple of clothing boutiques, and Sephora, where I was sorely tempted to pop in and grab some new lip gloss, when Sam grabbed me by the arm and pointed. "Kitties!"
I glanced toward the storefront across the street. Sure enough, a whole collection of handbags with ears and fur took up the display window.
"This has got to be the place on Sophia's social media," Sam said.
I nodded. "Agreed." I looked up. At least ten units looked close enough to the shop to be considered "totally close."
We walked to the gated entrance to the Santana Sky Complex and luckily only had to wait a few minutes before someone was leaving and we slipped through the gates behind them. To our right was an elevator that led to the upper levels, and we jumped in, riding it to the second story first where we exited into a small courtyard. Five doors bordered it. One had a stroller parked outside of it—clearly not Sophia's. Two had potted plants near the entrance, and the other two were unadorned.