Web of Evil: A Novel of Suspense by J. A. Jance

realized that, of all the people on the terrace, she was the only one wearing a robe.
    Abruptly, she pushed her chair away from the table. “I’ve got to go get dressed,” she said.
    Since no one had come to summon Ali, she stayed where she was. A few seconds later, Tracy McLaughlin, still holding his granite ball, and Sandy Quijada—she announced her name at the beginning of the interview—stepped in front of the camera for an old-fashioned stand-up.
    “This is Tracy McLaughlin,” Sandy said, smiling engagingly into the camera. “You’re generally credited with inventing Sumo Sudoku. Do you mind telling us how that all came about?”
    “Just because someone is strong doesn’t mean he’s stupid,” Tracy told her. “It’s one of the oldest clichés in the book. I mean, how many times have you heard the words ‘dumb as an ox’? If you’re a jock, people automatically assume you’re also a dolt. Sumo Sudoku is a game that mixes brains and brawn.”
    “How?” Sandy asked.
    Not exactly insightful, Ali thought.
    “Sudoku is a game of logic,” Tracy replied. “Regular sudoku is usually played with a paper and pencil. Or a pen if you’re very good.”
    “Like a crossword puzzle,” Sandy supplied.
    “Right,” Tracy said. “Only with numbers instead of words. It’s done on a square layout of eighty-one squares arranged in a nine-by-nine matrix. Numbers from one to nine are placed in the squares so that all values occur without repetition in each horizontal line, in each vertical line, and in each of the nine three-by-three submatrices that fit within the nine-by-nine square.”
    Sandy frowned slightly, as though the word “submatrices” was leaving her in the dust. “So how is Sumo Sudoku different?”
    Not a dumb blonde, Ali thought. But dumb nevertheless.
    “For one thing, it’s played outdoors,” Tracy explained patiently. “Instead of using paper, we use grass or sand or even gravel. It has to be played on level ground so the numbers stay wherever they’re placed. And instead of using a pencil to fill in the numbers, we use rocks like this.” He hefted the granite ball into the air and held it up to the camera so that the sandblasted number 3 was showing.
    “This is a number three rock. It weighs thirty pounds. The number one rocks weigh ten pounds. The number nine rocks weigh ninety pounds.”
    “That’s a lot of rocks,” Sandy marveled.
    Tracy nodded. “It is,” he agreed. “The total weight of the playing pieces is four thousand fifty pounds. Not exactly your grandfather’s game of checkers.”
    “I’ll say.” Sandy beamed.
    “So when we set up for a game, the grid is made up of individual squares that are two feet on each side, so a full layout is eighteen feet per side. As I said, the terrain should be flat enough to prevent placed markers from rolling on their own, but it may be flat or sloped, grassy or sandy—slightly damp sand is better than dry. Like golf, you must play the terrain as well as the basic game.”
    “Here you’re going to play on grass?” Sandy asked.
    If Tracy McLaughlin had a sense of humor, it wasn’t apparent in the dead seriousness of his responses. “That’s right. The game is prepared by placing all the markers ten feet from the edge of the grid. The judges will place the starting pieces in position. They are marked with an International Orange adhesive tag and may not be moved for the duration of the round. The remainder of the pieces will remain untouched and on the sidelines until the starter’s signal. Markers may be moved at will during the round, but doing so more than once will slow the competitor. Markers may be carried or rolled. Speed is essential. So is accuracy.”
    Listening to him drone on, outlining the rules, it occurred to Ali that she was listening to an engineer masquerading as a bodybuilder. Sandy’s attention seemed to be wandering, too.
    “So how will today’s match work?”
    “What’s all this?” Victor Angeleri