“So we have to ask ourselves, then, who would benefit from Podoboo’s death?” said Sherwood Greg.

“Spyderwebb, clearly,” said Captain Strong. “He’s the world record holder, you said. If this Podoboo guy stood to break the record today, there’s your motive right there.”

“Speedrunners aren’t like athletes,” Terra said. “There’s no endorsements. No money. Podoboo and Spyderwebb both have day jobs. And even if that wasn’t true, who’s to say someone else wouldn’t have broken the speedrunning record tomorrow?”

Strong shrugged helplessly. “I’ve investigated murders over taco seasoning before, kid,” he said. “Virginia, my wife, has a friend who was physically assaulted over the last jar of kabuki makeup at a costume shop.”

Greg cocked an eyebrow. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime, Captain.”

“No, I won’t.”

“But Terra’s point is well-taken,” Greg went on. “Speedrunners tend to be a fraternity of enthusiasts, and any competition tends to be friendly. But there was the altercation yesterday.”

“Yeah, Podoboo’s team lost a speedrun relay pretty badly,” said Terra. “There were thousands of dollars on the line.”

“Ah!” cried Strong. “Now we’re talking.”

“Thousands of dollars for charity, Captain,” said Greg. “Podoboo’s team lost nothing but their pride. Nerdicon is, at its heart, a charitable event after all, which sets us sharply apart from those pirates and swindlers at SciCon.”

“So what you’re telling me is, no one that has a motive could have gone through with it?” Strong sighed.

“Or perhaps just that things are not as simple as they appear,” said Sherwood Greg.

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