Deadly Riddles (Mike Anderson Book 1) Read online

  DEADLY RIDDLES

  Book One

  by

  JACK PARKER

  Copyright © 2019 by Jack Parker

  Cover and internal design © 2019 by Jack Parker

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced, in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  PART II

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  PART III

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PART I

  ~ Framed ~

  "Let the games begin" said the mysterious voice over the phone. Mike Anderson, game programmer, returns to the city of Houston after 15 years of pursuing his career. Now he finds himself in the middle of a murder investigation where he is the prime suspect

  Chapter One

  "And that brings me back to the meat of the issue: How do we program the next generation of video games? It starts with an idea." I said. I was giving a presentation at the University of Houston on programming video games. I'm not the best presenter in the world. I'm actually kind of shy, but I find that if you extensively plan out everything you want to say, it takes away some of the nervousness.

  "You can be the best programmer in the world, but that won't be enough to make a quality game." I continued, "It takes design, it takes planning. With strategy games in particular, my specialty, I find that it isn't good enough to have a game where you would just make pawn after pawn to use to defeat the enemy. The bar has been raised. One of the first things strategy game programmers did a good number of years back was to incorporate a strengths and weaknesses system. It made it so that even if you are outnumbered, the right combination of units in the right location might be all you need."

  I paused for a few moments giving me the time to grab a sip of the water bottle I had on the desk in front of me and chew the gum in my mouth. Gum is an underrated stress reliever. It gives you something to focus on so that you can drown out all of the anxiety around you. And it's better than smoking in the sense that you can chew gum in virtually any public setting. Besides, it's cheap.

  "But now, I think that bar has been raised again. In the real world, big guns don't win the wars. Sometimes it's the knowledge of your surroundings, the ability to stay hidden, battling from great strategic locations. Information, if used right, can be the greatest weapon a person can have."

  I struggled to keep my eyes on the back wall of the room, so that it would seem like I'm engaging the crowd. Locking eyes with one person makes me nervous. Usually I'll look at the floor, but I also know that you can't look at the floor during a presentation because you'll look silly. In any case, the presentation was almost over. I clicked to the final slide.

  "So when you are programming a game, keep all of this in mind. And remember, sometimes the simplest solution is the best. Thank you for your time." I said, ending the presentation. I was never really good at ending speeches, so my conclusions were always short and abrupt. But it's over nonetheless.

  A few students rushed to hand me their resumes and ask me questions. I answered what I could. I got the feeling some people were just trying to make conversation so I would remember them if it turned out my company needed to hire new people, but out of respect I played along.

  I guess I should back up a bit. My name is Mike Anderson. I'm a game developer working for a company based in Chicago. They were approached by the University of Houston requesting to have someone do a presentation on the future of game design. My boss knows that I grew up here so I got the assignment.

  I should probably back up a little further. I grew up in Houston, graduated high school in the top 10% of my class and went to University of Illinois on a scholarship to study computer science. Finished that and started working where I still work today, where I've worked for the past 10 years. My life story in a paragraph, I know, but I'm just not that complex of a person. I haven't done anything spectacular. I don't have my own Wikipedia page. There will be no books written about me when I'm dead. When I die, my obituary would probably say "He grew up, went to college, got a job, and then died". Nice, short, and simple.

  I got my stuff packed and was ready to leave, when one of the students walked into the empty classroom and got my attention.

  "Hey, we're having a LAN party up in the university center and if you want to come play video games you are welcome." He said with a smile. I couldn't tell if he was trying to angle his way into a potential job or if he just wanted to play games with a game developer. I suppose we are somewhat of a celebrity to these guys.

  "Sorry, I already have plans for tonight." I responded. My 'plans' included heading back to my hotel, getting on my laptop and play some online poker by myself. I was never a social person. I was always nervous at parties. Not that I ever went to parties, but I put myself in the situation mentally and I knew that's how I would react. I'd have to deal with all the small talk, the forced conversation. I was afraid to really say anything because I didn't want to come off the wrong way to someone.

  I play games with other people all the time, but it's all online. Online gaming gives you the benefit of playing against other people without the awkwardness of having to deal with them in real life. If things got out of hand I could always turn the game off to get away from it.

  As soon as the last person left, I finished getting my stuff together and left. The door had an automatic lock, the university staff just wanted me to make sure I was the last person to leave. I suppose they were afraid of students vandalizing equipment they paid a lot of money for. Once I was outside the door I got out my mp3 player in order to listen to a few songs while I made the walk to my car. After a few seconds I found the song I would listen to first: "I Stand Alone" by Godsmack.

  It's one of my favorite songs, and I think it has to do with the fact that it's the title song from one of my favorite games, Prince of Persia: Warrior Within. It's the second part of the "Sands of Time" trilogy in which the prince is being constantly chased by this unstoppable beast. After running for so long he finally decides to take matters into his own hands and fight back, despite everyone saying it's impossible.

  When I listen to this song, I like to pretend it's me running along the walls, slicing down waves of bad guys with my sword. To those looking at me from far away I was just walking back to my car, but inside my mind I was standing in the center of a room surrounded by enemies hell-bent on taking me out. Gracefully I was able to take them down one at a time. Completely ruthless, lacking any doubt and determined to fulfill my quest or die trying. I was so engaged in my fantasy that wasn't paying attention to the real world.

  CRASH!! I was walking on the sidewalk outside of the building and I b
umped into someone head on.

  "Hey! Can you watch where you are going?" The guy yelled. Sometimes music can affect your mood. I was still the prince, jumping from rooftop to rooftop in ancient Persia. He would fight back, he wouldn't take defeat lightly.

  "I was going to my car, is there a problem?" I responded, heart beating a million miles per hour. I wasn't about to let this guy push me around.

  "Yeah there's a problem! You ran into me!" He yelled back furiously waving his arms, trying to act tough.

  "The way I see it, you could've moved out of the way too. Maybe you ran into me."

  "Are you kidding me? " He replied. We kept going back and forth, throwing insults at each other. Neither one of us wanted to back down.

  Maybe this was a stupid argument; maybe it was both of our faults this happened. But why did he have to blame this on me first?

  And that's when reality set in.

  "Hello? Can you hear me?" He asked in an angry tone, waving his hands in front of me. The argument was all in my head. It had never happened. Of course it never happened. I wasn't the prince, my name was Mike Anderson. I definitely wasn't ruthless or determined.

  "Sorry" I said quietly as I went on my way. I didn't even think it was my fault. We bumped head on, so that meant he could have avoided me too. But I felt like arguing was a waste of time.

  It always starts out innocently enough. You are just trying to explain your side of the story. Most arguments stem from a lack of understanding. You'll try and understand his side of the argument while explaining yours. Both parties are calm and can discuss things like adults. But then… something happens. Somewhere along the way it turns ugly. No one wants to admit fault, they blame it on anyone but themselves. Finally the argument becomes about being right rather than what the truth actually is, and before you know it you have wasted minutes of your life that you will never get back doing something pointless. I would rather just cut through all of that, say I'm sorry and move on.

  I finally made it to my car and began the journey home. It was a rental, nothing special. Just something to get me around Houston the few days I was here because the public transportation system in Houston was pitiful.

  The hotel was about a ten minute drive from the college, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to think. I loved driving around the city. It didn't have anything to do with driving a nice car and zigzagging through traffic at incredible speeds like you might see in The Fast and The Furious. Only when I was in my car could I truly be alone with my thoughts. Sure, I'm usually alone in my apartment most of the day, but I'm always either playing games or working. I never get the opportunity to just sit down by myself, listen to some techno and think about nothing in particular, just whatever came to me.

  As I was driving I couldn't help but notice the sun setting over the never ending sea of lights that was the Houston skyline. To me this was one of the most awe inspiring sights in the world. Each beam of light was different, whether it be a person driving his car down the freeway or a worker sitting at his desk in his office or a group of kids walking home under the streetlight. It's one of the things I loved about Houston, this view, and it made me wonder why I left in the first place.

  I turned to my left as a group of teenagers, probably in high school, were packed into a four door Sedan about to pass me. They had the windows down, and you could tell they were dancing to the music; as much as you could dance inside of a car at least. They looked like they didn't have a care in the world. Thinking about what it was like for me at that age made me grimace a little.

  I didn't hate high school, but I thought it was overrated. I wasn't beat up on a weekly basis, but I wasn't one of the popular kids either. Not that I wanted to be anyway. They say that high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life, but not for me. You aren't free. You are forced to take classes on their schedule. You eat when they tell you to, and if you don't feel good that day the only way you could leave was after filling out all kinds of forms and making a number of phone calls.

  I never bothered going to the school dances or sporting events, what's the point? What would I do? I didn't know anyone. I wasn't a part of any of the school cliques. It was all a huge distraction. In order to be popular you had to turn into this fake person, and it just wasn't me. Besides, I think it's pretty obvious by now to you guys that I wasn't the most socially capable person in the world. That life would've torn me to shreds. I preferred to be a nobody. I could walk down the hallways invisible. Just like now, when I drive down the freeway. Hundreds of cars, hundreds of people within a mile radius of you yet you are never more alone.

  Some people don't like being alone, but I do. Alone means no one can ever hurt you or betray you. No one will ever disappoint you or anger you. It means no one can ever make you feel awkward or unwelcome or unaccepted. You never feel guilty or feel pity for another person. You are in complete control of every decision you make.

  I know this probably sounds really depressing, but this is how I've lived my life for the past 20 plus years. Every time I've been forced to interact with other people, whether it be at work or in public, I'm always looking forward to going back to my apartment and working on my latest project or playing games or watching TV.

  I finally made it back to my hotel. It wasn't the really expensive kind that does room service and puts a mint on your pillow, but it was a decent one that had a lobby, free breakfast in the morning and three stories of rooms with elevator service. There was a pool with a spa just outside. I walked through the lobby to the elevator, and finally to my door. I pulled out the key. It was a regular key and not one of those new card keys. I guess this hotel hasn't gotten that memo yet. As I went to unlock the door I found that it was already unlocked. I was sure I locked my door before leaving, but I could have forgotten.

  No, I couldn't have forgotten. I never forget to lock the door. I'm always the careful, planning, organized type. I always make the extra check to make sure I have everything before I leave a good thirty minutes before any normal person would leave for a special presentation. After all, you don't want to get lost or stuck in traffic or show up only to find you left something at the hotel. I always lock the door and then jiggle the handle to make sure it's locked, and then push on the door to make sure the door closed all the way. I definitely locked the door. That means someone had been in my room, or maybe they were still there.

  I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and threw another stick of gum in my mouth before slowly opening the door. I put my bag containing my laptop down so I would have an extra arm just in case I was ambushed. With all the preparation and caution I took opening the door, nothing prepared me for what I was about to walk into.

  With my first glance into the room I caught someone's eyes, wide open staring up at the ceiling. He was on the floor, covered in blood with what looked like multiple bullet holes in his chest. Someone had been killed in my room. The panic started to rise in my chest. A man was dead! Which meant someone must've shot him, which meant the killer could be nearby. I tried to remain as quiet as I could. I didn't want to bring attention to myself, but I felt as if my heart thumping inside my chest would make my presence known. What do I do?

  Step one would be to remain calm. I had never been in a situation like this before, but if I couldn't gain control of my mind and body and overcome the panic, I wouldn't be good to anyone. Step two was to call the police. I carefully and quietly maneuvered to the phone at the other end of the room. Before I could get to the phone, it began ringing. I jumped like a scared cat. Who would be calling me?

  "Hello?" I asked, picking the phone up.

  "Let the games begin." said the person on the phone in a deep voice.

  "Who is this? Who are you?" I yelled into the phone. But he had hung up. I was confused. I was scared. Who was this guy? How did this guy know I was in the room? I just got here, I just happened to go towards the phone and...

  The window. It was positioned in such a way where I would pass the wi
ndow on the way to the phone from the body. I hung up the phone and looked out the window. It was facing one of the downtown streets. Looking right across the street to a warehouse building on the other side, I could see the shadow of someone in one of the upstairs windows waving. I couldn't tell much in the glimpse I got before he left, but it looked like he was a built man with medium length hair.

  Just then the door opened again, I turned around to find myself face to face with two police officers with their guns drawn yelling at me to put my hands up. At this point I realized the gravity of the situation. I was the only person in the room, and this guy had just been shot to death. Someone probably heard the murder in one of these rooms and called the cops. And now they probably think I killed him. The real murderer most likely planned it to work out this way, framing me for murder. But why me?

  "Mike Anderson? You have the right to remain silent..."

  Chapter Two

  Chief of Police Dan Taylor walked into the interrogation room with a confident smile across his face. That's about the best look I got out of him before my eyes became glued to the floor. But in the glimpse I got all the look I needed. Taylor looked to be in his 50s, not built but not completely out of shape either. I could tell he was a cop even without the police uniform just from the way he carried himself. Hair turned white long ago, but at least he still had most of it. His face was rounded, with white eyebrows, brown eyes, a big nose, and a huge mustache.

  Chief Taylor walked to the table where I was already seated and he sat down on the other side. He probably saw my eyes glued to the floor, with my arms above my head on the table. I had calmed down, but I wasn't about to talk to just anyone yet, especially someone that thinks I killed a guy. I hadn't spoken since we left the hotel, so he chose to address my appointed lawyer instead.

  "We received a call from the hotel your client was staying at. Someone said they heard shots. We actually received multiple calls." the chief started in a slow, deep voice "A patrol car was there within minutes and we found the source of the gunshot in your client's room. When we got there Mr. Anderson was in the room by the window, alone. The body of the victim, Randall Briggs, was on the floor. He was dead."