I woke in my own apartment. I glanced at the clock. It was 7:00 on Thursday morning, and there was an annoying beam of sunshine dancing on my face. Groaning, I kicked off the covers and answered nature's call. I showered and changed.

I made coffee and tossed some fresh veggies to Rex. He popped out of his soup can to inspect his breakfast. His whiskers twitched, unimpressed with the carrot and lettuce leaf. He was holding out for more. I wanted something besides coffee myself. I grabbed my bag and rummaged around until I found the honey roasted peanuts. I tossed a couple to Rex and then finished off the can. So much for my emergency stash.

I fished out my phone and dialed Grandma.

"Are you up?" Grandma asked when she picked up.

"Surprisingly, yes. I need to bring in Graham today."

"Out of groceries?" Grandma guessed.

I blew out a sigh. "Among other things," I admitted.

"Well, never fear. The Minionfire Mages are here to save the day."

"They're already there?"

"Well, not yet, but they will be by nine." Grandma said.

"Good. That gives me time to ask Joe for help tracking down the Golden Griefer's IP address."

"Forget Morelli," Grandma said. "We don't need him."

"Unfortunately, we do. I can't track Graham's location without him."

"Sure you can. Zook has an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"He said he's buddies with Graham, and that will let us find him, as long as he's online."

"First, Zook doesn't even like Graham. They're not buddies. And second, you have to have special clearance to request a physical address from the internet service provider. So, I will need Morelli." Or Ranger, I thought.

"Zook 'buddied' Graham so he could avoid running into him around town, face to face."

I paused for a beat.

"Zook knows when Graham is around?"

"Yeah, his phone tells him."

"What do you mean?"

"Zook has an app through AOL Instant Messenger that tells him when one of his 'buddies' are 'near him'," Grandma explained. "That's why he 'buddied' Graham. So he would be warned in time to duck for cover."

I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't asked Ranger or Joe for help. They both would have laughed at me if the solution were so simple a teenager could come up with it in his sleep.

"Sounds good," I said. "I'm on my way."

"I'll save you some pancakes," Grandma promised, and she disconnected.

Shortly after nine, Lula and Zook had joined us in the dining room. Zook and Grandma had their laptops logged into the land of Minionfire. Lula was playing with Zook's phone, because she was actually more tech savvy with smart phones than I was. I was standing around, feeling like an idiot. My cell phone barely made phone calls, let alone allowed cool apps. I didn't even have a touch screen.

"Here's how it works," Zook explained. "If we find the Golden Griefer is online, we'll monitor and try to engage him in a private conversation. We can't get his IP address thought the game messaging. It goes player to server to player, wiping that data from view. But most gamers use a third party messaging system called Whisper. I can get the IP from there. Lula says you saw his laptop at his apartment. We can get a general idea of where his IP address is coming from, you know, city and state, using generally available IP address databases. That will tell us if he's in Trenton, or if he's somewhere else. If he's in Trenton, you and Lula can drive by with my phone. If Graham is online, you should receive an alert. It will work for any wireless device that he's logged into, if he's got his messenger on, which he probably will."

"Please tell me with is brand new, cutting edge technology," I said.

"Nah. Dating services have been using it for a while now. Game designers use it to find out where their demographic is located. Website designers use it…"

"Okay, I get it," I said, not really understanding but ready to catch Graham. "Let's do this!"

Zook dived into the game, searching for the Golden Griefer. He made some inquiries with the wood elves. He checked with the players in Whisper. An hour later, we were still waiting.

"Maybe we need to send him an invitation," Grandma suggested.

"Can't," I said. "His cell phone is disconnected."

Zook thought about it for a minute. "What about his roommate? Is his cell working?"

"Yes, but he's hardly cooperative," I said.

"For you," Zook said. "Let me try."

Zook took his phone back from Lula, texted, waited, and received a response.

"Give him a few minutes," Zook said. "He's coming."

"What did you say?" Lula asked. "That Funky Winkerbean is not a nice guy."

"Graham likes to buy up all the gold he can. I texted that Graham's phone is off, and I want to sell ten thousand gold coins in exchange for more magic before I level up. In Minionfire, you can't take things with you when you go to the next level, except your magic."

"So, Graham is a reliable buyer?" Lula asked.

"Well, not really. He doesn't care about leveling up, because he would lose his gold. And since he doesn't level up, he doesn't have much magic. But any magic is better than leveling up with nothing. And there aren't as many players this early in the morning. It's reasonable to think that I would ask for him. He'll be on in a minute. It'll be too hard for him to pass up the opportunity."

Sure enough, Zook received a message on Whisper moments later. Zook captured his IP address and cross referenced it.

"Get going," he said. "He's using a wireless service in Trenton. He's probably home right now."

Before Lula and I were out the door, Zook and Graham were in the market place making a deal for the gold coins.

We jumped in the Panamera and took off across town to Weaver Street. Lula was watching the display on the phone. As we got within a few blocks, the "Near Me" alert sounded.

"We got him!" Lula squealed. "I gotta get me this app. This is amazing!"

We rolled up to the house and jumped out. I was ready for a take down. I slipped cuffs into my back pocket. I wished I had thought to grab a fresh pepper spray from the office, but there was no time to think about it now. My gun was home in my cookie jar, so I left my bag in the Panamera and hit the alarm button. I slipped the key into my front pocket and followed Lula up to the front door.

"Should I cover the back?" Lula asked.

"No, we're going to stick together today," I decided.

"You knock politely, he's just going to run off." Lula was right.

"I'm going to announce our presence, kick the door in, and we're going to rush him," I whispered.

"Hot damn! Now you're talking!" Lula said, pulling her .45 from her bag and assuming the Charlie's Angels position.

"No gun," I told her. "Just tackle him. He's not armed."

"But what if he's got that BB gun? I'm not just gonna stand there and let that pipsqueak shoot me with a BB gun."

"If we hurry, he won't have time to grab it," I reasoned. "Let's do this. You ready?"

Lula slipped her gun back into her bag, but now she held the bag like a weapon, ready to club him in the head with a weighted bag. "Ready."

I rolled my eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

"Bond Enforcement!" I yelled. Then I planted my boot right below the door knob and was shocked when the door was jarred loose, wood splintering from the door frame.

I race inside and up the stairs with Lula on my heels.

"Bone Enforcement!" I yelled again, rushing the room where the laptop had been last time. The room was empty. I raced across the hall, looking in the other bedroom. No one there. "Downstairs!" I shouted to Lula. My heart was pumping with adrenaline, and my desperation was clawing it's way to the surface. I was ready to tackle anyone that moved.

Lula was in front of me on the stairs, and I was about to follow her down when I felt a pair of hands hit me hard in the back. I was propelled forward, slamming my full body into Lula's back. She rolled, and we were tumbling head over heels down the stairs. They may have been covered with carpet, but someone skimped on the padding. The wood beneath was unforgiving. The stars burst before my eyes and the world swam out of focus.

I woke sometime later, sprawled over Lula's legs. We had landed halfway into the living room. I struggled to clear my vision and sit up. I smacked Lula's legs. She moaned.

"Lula," I called, struggling to my knees. "Wake up. Graham is getting away." I felt concussed, and briefly considered throwing up. I needed a new job.

"Ugh," Lula groaned. "What happened?"

"Stairs," I mumbled. "Get up. We have to go after Graham." I looked towards the front door. It was hanging open. Not a good sign.

"Who tripped?" Lula asked.

"No one tripped. We were pushed."

"By Graham?" she asked.

"I don't know," I told her.

I managed to get to my feet and started towards the door. I leaned on the broken frame, looking up and down the street. No sign of Graham or Winkerman. No sign of anyone. Then my heart stopped and my stomach lurched. I took two steps forward and leaned over the porch rail, throwing up my pancakes. The Panamera was gone. I checked my front pocket. Empty. I gripped the railing and threw up again.

When I was done throwing up, I stepped back inside. I needed to find that car, and to do that, I needed to figure out where the bastard was going. There was a strip of linoleum from the kitchen to the front door. There was a thin trail of clear liquid leading from the kitchen out the front door and down the steps. There was also a strong smell of bleach. I followed the wet trail into the kitchen to the deep freezer in the far corner.

Lula stumbled in behind me. "What's that smell? I know that smell," Lula complained.

"Bleach," I told her. I opened the lid to the freezer and had to step back. I knew that smell too. My stomach lurched.

"Don't tell me there's a dead body in there," Lula moaned. "Just rotting meat, right?"

I held my breath and looked inside.

"No body," I reported.

At least, there was no body in there now. There was a pool of clear liquid in the bottom, which I assumed was just water since my eyes weren't stinging. Along the edge of the freezer I noticed a small smear. I pushed the freezer back a little. Between the freezer and the cabinet I could see a few shards of glass. I used a paper towel to scoop them up. They were smeared with blood and some kind of light brown goop that I wasn't about to try to identify. A body is unwieldy and difficult to move alone. Since I didn't see any other blood, I assumed the body had been wrapped in plastic, and the glass may have torn through and been scraped off as the body was slid out of the cooler.

I started looking around the kitchen for clues. There was a trash can nearby. I lifted the lid and rooted around.

"Those ice bags?" Lula asked.

"Yeah. At least ten," I told her.

"What did he need ice for if he had a body in the freezer?"

The freezer wasn't on, but it appeared to be plugged into the wall. I checked the plug. I tested it with a nearby lamp. The outlet worked. The deep freeze didn't.

"Maybe it got knocked out during the blackouts," Lula suggested.

"Maybe," I agreed.
"So, those boys don't just knock over lemonade stands in their spare time. They're killers."

"Just one of them," I thought out loud.

"Which one?"

"The one still breathing."

Lula thought for a minute. "Graham's online right now. Funky Winkerbean was just here yesterday."

"Someone was online. Someone with Graham's laptop. Graham hasn't been spotted in over two months. The only one we've seen is Winkerman."

"You think Graham is the one who's dead?"

"From what I know about Graham, he was more than capable of pushing someone like Winkerman to the brink of temporary insanity," I said.

"We calling Morelli?" Lula wondered.

"No," I decided. "We don't have a body."

"That's true," Lula agreed. "Good call."

"And the car's gone," I told her.

What I didn't say was that Morelli would be thrilled to hear that there was a dead body in Ranger's new car. He would have a field day with that one, considering it was my skip. And if Morelli was still in the foul mood he was in last night, he might find a way to have both of us arrested for murder.

Lula's eyes bugged. "Say what?"

"Winkerman took the key while we were out of it."

"Hold the phone," Lula said, sinking down on a kitchen chair. "Are you trying to tell me that, not only did we lose your skip, but he's dead, and now he's dead in Ranger's shiny new car?"

"It's worse than that," I told her. "Ranger is in the wind. He has no alibi."

"Is the car registered to Ranger?"

"I'm not sure. The DMV report lists the car in transition."

"So, can it be traced to Ranger or not?"

"Legally, I don't know. But circumstantially, everyone knows that's Ranger's car now."

"Damn circumstantial evidence," Lula growled. "Gets you every time."

"We have to get that car back," I told her.

"Well, it's a Rangeman vehicle. It's got a tracker. I can just call Tank," she offered.

"No!" I yelled, smacking the phone out of her hand. "We can't tell Rangeman. We don't want Tank or anyone else involved. They could be made out to be accomplices."

"How? They didn't murder Graham, Winkerman did."

"Prove it," I challenged. "Winkerman is a neat freak. He bleached the freezer, so there's no blood to tie Graham's body to the freezer."

"What about that glass shard?" She asked, pointing to the paper towel on the counter.

"Graham lived here. He could have been cut on a piece of glass any time. There's very little blood there. It hardly points to murder."

I nervously approached the basement door. I glanced to Lula. She grabbed her bag, and I nodded for her to pull out the .45. We cautiously opened the basement door and looked down into the darkness. I switched the light on. A bare bulb hung from a wire in the center of the concrete room.

"Here, you go. I'll wait here, doing lookout in case someone comes back," Lula said, handing me the .45.

"Good thinking," I told her. I was in no mood to argue.

I double handed the gun and descended, one step at a time. There was little in the basement but a wash and dryer, the water tank, and the heater. I looked in the dryer. Just a load of towels. I checked the washer. Another load of towels. There must have been two dozen white towels. And the smell of bleach. That made sense, I thought. The freezer had shorted out a few days ago, so Winkerman had been buying bags of ice to keep the body cold, and he was using the towels to mop up the water. He had probably pulled the drain periodically, soaked up the water with the towels, and then washed the towels.

I tramped back up the stairs and handed the .45 back to Lula. Then, on a hunch, I checked under the sink. Sure enough, I found a large box of extra large, construction grade garbage bags and a roll of duct tape. Mister Clean had wrapped the body and cleaned out the freezer. There would be very little DNA to find. The good news was that, if there was a dead body in the passenger seat of the Panamera right now, it was securely wrapped. At least, most of it was. I glanced back to the glass shards on the counter.

I dug around in the drawers until I found a zip lock baggie. I used it as an evidence bag, placing the towel with the glass shards inside and zipping it closed. I was going to put it in my bag, then realized by bag, and my phone, were in the Panamera.