by Louise Clark
He had been aware of where people were, though. Hammer's parents had drifted out to the arena seats, probably anxious to get the best location for the show. Syd Haynes parked himself on the sofa close to the veggies and dip, and didn't move. Vince hovered near Mitch for a bit, then circulated. Quinn and Christy were sitting near Emily and Bernard Oshall. Quinn was catching up with Bernie, he supposed. Unmarried guys tended to lose contact when a single friend became part of a couple. Roy grinned. Christy and Emily seemed to get along well. Could be Quinn wouldn't be losing contact with Bernie again this time.
The two couples had been sitting at the eating bar that ran behind the seats. Quinn had his back to the wall and Christy had moved her stool so that she was beside Quinn, facing toward Emily and Bernie and, incidentally, the suite, not the stage. The few times he'd noticed, Bernie had been focused on Quinn, but he must have looked around at the action happening inside the suite from time to time. Say when some interesting or unexpected movement caught his eye.
Bernie's observations might prove useful. Roy had always liked Bernie and Trevor had maintained that Bernie Oshall was a good kid. Though he had been involved in whatever mayhem Sledge and Quinn got up to at the school, to Trevor it was high spirits, not meanness that motivated him.
Trevor wasn't one of those fathers who excused everything his kid did because he knew the law and he could get him off. When the boys raised hell they got punished, but they didn't get nagged about being forever well behaved. Trevor expected them to overdo it. So did Roy. As long as their excesses were exuberant, not malicious, he was fine with that.
For that reason, Roy would be surprised if Bernie Oshall had committed the murder. Trevor had planned to be the one to interview Bernie, to find out why he didn't walk down to the meet and greet with the group that included Quinn and Christy, but Trevor had gone downtown to see what he could pry out of Detective Patterson. Roy had the afternoon free, though. He could drop by, have a chat.
The afternoon was starting to look up. When he got home he'd find Bernie's address and phone number, then give him a call. But wait. It was Wednesday. Bernie, and maybe Emily too, would probably be at work. His mood tanked.
Still, there was the evening. He had nothing on tonight, except a solitary dinner and the opportunity to work on his book. Maybe the Oshalls would agree to see him. If they did, he'd grab Stormy and they'd go. He had a suspicion that Frank would be missing Christy and Noelle as much as he was missing Quinn. A road trip would be just the thing to perk them both up.
* * *
Roy didn't have Bernie Oshall's cell number, so he looked the name up in the phone book and got the house landline. He ended up connecting to voicemail and left a message, asking if Bernie would mind speaking to him about the night of the concert, then hung up and waited. About five o'clock he caught sight of Stormy through the window chasing a big black squirrel up a tree. He went out and stood beside the cat at the bottom of the tree, looking up as the squirrel scolded them both in a non-stop stream of chittering squeaks. Stormy's green eyes stared up, unblinking. The squirrel was his archenemy, but the only sign that he was annoyed was the restless flick of his tail.
"I may be going out to do a little sleuthing after supper. Want to come along?" The squirrel bounded along a branch that got more and more spindly the further he got.
Sure. Why not? Can you tell Ellen? She's going out to dinner with Trevor.
Stormy crouched, muscles tensing, gaze glued to the busy squirrel.
The squirrel's going to fall, the cat's sure of it. He's not going to let that wretched little beast get away this time!
"I'll leave you to it," Roy said. The squirrel reached the end of the branch. It sagged down under the animal's weight, then bounced back up. The squirrel used the momentum from the branch's swing to launch himself across an impossibly wide divide to a branch on another tree. As the squirrel flew through the air, Stormy took off after him, streaking along the ground with precisely the right amount of speed to have him where he needed to be if the squirrel missed his target. Unfortunately, the squirrel landed with acrobatic ease on the new branch. He raced along it, away from the danger Stormy represented, still chattering, though now Roy thought he heard a distinctly gloating tone to the sound. On the ground, Stormy crouched, tail lashing, as the squirrel disappeared into the canopy.
Roy called Ellen and told her Stormy was busy chasing squirrels. Ellen made disapproving noises, but mentioned she was going to dinner with Trevor. Having an appropriate opening, Roy offered to look after Stormy for the evening. Ellen thanked him and said Trevor was picking her up in a half an hour. Roy told her to have a good time and not to worry about the cat. That duty completed, he got on with putting together dinner fixings.
He was out on the deck, barbequing a steak, when Bernie called and suggested Roy come over at eight. The timing was perfect. He could finish his meal and still have time to put on a clean shirt and comb his hair before he started the twenty-minute trek to the suburb where the Oshalls lived.
* * *
"Hi, Dad. How's it going?" Quinn had decided to call home and let his father know they'd arrived safely while he waited for Christy and Noelle to dress for dinner. He'd already replaced his shorts and a T-shirt with slacks and a front button shirt. With time to spare, he was lounging on the sofa in the living room of the two-bedroom suite they were sharing.
"Quinn!" On the other end of the phone line Roy's voice sounded pleased. "I was just getting dinner ready. How was the flight?"
Different, Quinn wanted to say. He'd logged hundreds of hours in the air, in all sorts of aircraft, but he'd never had a flight quite like this one. He, Christy, and Noelle had changed seats three times before the plane took off, as Noelle tested out the middle, aisle and finally the window seat, where she settled. Christy sat beside her, in the middle, so he'd been beside her in the aisle seat, but her attention for most of the flight had been on Noelle.
The hell of it was his attention had been on Noelle too. She'd prattled on about what she was seeing through the window, what she expected to see at Disneyland, what the people in the other seats were doing, and how many flight attendants there were. He knew the kid was wired because they were going to Disneyland, but the flight, which was less than three hours, had felt longer than a non-stop to Europe.
"Uneventful," he said to his father.
"Really?" said Roy. There was laughter in his voice, damn it.
Quinn persevered. "We took off on schedule and landed on time. No bumps on the flight. We checked into the hotel mid-afternoon, then headed down to the pool. It's gorgeous here."
By the time they'd retrieved their baggage and found their way to the car rental kiosk, it was well past lunch. Everyone was hungry, so as soon as they finished the negotiations for their rental car, they piled in and headed off to find a place to eat.
Not so easy. L.A. was a city of freeways and high volume traffic. Figuring out where places were before the exit was upon them was tougher than he'd expected. Christy sat beside him, handling the map the car agency had given them, a guidebook she'd brought for the trip, and the GPS, but they still got lost. In the backseat, Noelle fell asleep when they were halfway to Pasadena. At that point Christy had suggested they check in, then have an early dinner at the hotel. Relieved, Quinn had focused on getting them there in one piece.
Traveling with a family was far different than going solo or even with another adult. The basics were the same, but the patterns were different. He hadn't realized it before, but his dad had, which was why Roy was laughing at him, of course.
"We're off to dinner at one of the theme restaurants in the resort. Noelle picked it," he said. He thought his tone had that obnoxious sound of deliberate cheerfulness in the face of impending disaster and mentally cursed himself. Just because the damned restaurant had a princess theme and was the size of a baseball field didn't mean the food wasn't good. Besides, food wasn't always key to enjoying a meal; the experience was also part of it. He'd eaten c
ombat rations in Afghanistan and enjoyed every bite, simply because it was proof he'd survived another day. He could manage mega restaurant food just fine.
"Really?" Roy said again. He chuckled this time. "Family fare. Make sure you chase it down with a bottle of wine. That's what your mother and I always did when we were traveling with you."
"Good advice," Quinn said lightly. He didn't know why he was so edgy. He'd been the one to suggest the trip. He wanted to travel as a family with Christy and Noelle.
"Frank and I are going to see Bernie and Emily Oshall this evening," Roy said, apparently tiring of teasing his only child.
"You're taking Frank? Really?"
"Yeah. He's feeling a bit blue since Christy and Noelle left. I've also got an appointment to meet with Mitch Crosier tomorrow."
"I'm not worried about Bernie, but Crosier might be the killer. Be careful when you talk to him, Dad. Okay?"
"Of course," Roy said amicably. "I'll take Frank with me. No one takes a guy who visits with his cat seriously."
Quinn closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "Good idea."
Roy chuckled and switched subjects abruptly. "Haven't heard how Three did with the cops yet. He planned to pick up Ellen right after he finished talking to Patterson. They're having dinner together tonight."
"Really?"
"Yeah," said Roy. "At Seasons in the Park."
Quinn grinned. "Wait till I Christy. Maybe she won't have to worry about Ellen buying a new condo. Maybe she'll move back to her old one." Trevor was renting Ellen's condo where Brittany Day had been murdered, the one Ellen had so far refused to return to. Things could change though.
Roy laughed. "Don't get her hopes up. Three always was catnip to the ladies. That's why he ended up getting divorced from Sledge's mom."
"I thought it was pressures of work."
"That was the excuse they told Sledge. There was an issue of several women on the side as well."
Interesting how a person perceived things at different points in his life, Quinn thought. At fourteen he couldn't see Trevor as an attractive male. He could only imagine him as an overworked lawyer and an underachieving dad. And yet he'd evidently been something of a rogue as well.
The door to the room Christy and Noelle were sharing opened and they emerged, hand in hand. Quinn's breath caught at the sight of them. Christy was wearing a sleeveless dress of marine blue silk that hugged her body and stopped somewhere mid thigh. On her feet were heels that made her legs look long and slender. Noelle also had a dress on. It was a bright, primary yellow, and sleeveless like her mother's. The skirt was full and when she saw Quinn looking at them, she twirled energetically to show him how the fabric belled out.
"Gotta go, Dad. My dates for the evening are here."
"Enjoy," Roy said, and hung up.
Quinn disconnected more slowly. He was still trying to deal with the surge of pleasure and pride that was washing through him. Christy smiled, a little shyly, he thought. He needed to say something, the right something, to let her know how glad he was they were all here together.
He went over to them and extended his hands, first to Noelle, then, with a special smile, to Christy. "Miss Jamieson. Mrs. Jamieson. Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight? I have a table reserved at a special restaurant, one where only princesses are welcome."
Noelle giggled. "I'm not a princess."
Quinn grinned at her. He raised their joined hands to touch her lightly on the nose in an unconsciously affectionate gesture. "Sure you are. You're a Jamieson princess, just like your mother."
Christy laughed. "Now I know you're teasing."
He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she was his princess, his brave and sexy princess, but he couldn't say the intimate words in front of Noelle. Someday, maybe, but not yet. Something must have shown in his eyes, though, because he heard Christy's breath catch and saw her eyes darken.
Elation lapped through him, slow, steady and sustaining. He smiled again and said, "Come on, you two. Let's go find the restaurant and show everyone in the hotel what a lucky guy I am."
Noelle giggled and did a little skip, tugging at his hand. "Tonight I'm a princess and tomorrow I go to Disneyland. Yea!"
Christy laughed at her daughter's enthusiasm and smiled up at him. In that moment he thought that dinner at the princess restaurant would be the best meal he'd ever had.
Chapter 12
"Patterson has a source," Trevor said. "But she won't tell me who it is."
Ellen frowned. She and Trevor were walking in Queen Elizabeth Park, a large green space on the residential west side. In the early days of Vancouver, it had been the stone quarry for the fast growing city. The old stone works had been reclaimed and turned into gorgeous quarry gardens, with flowerbeds designed to bloom all season long. Now, in the spring, the cherry trees were in flower, and spring bulbs brought bright color to the plantings.
The park was one of Ellen's favorite places to walk and think. Trevor had brought her here an hour before their dinner reservation at the nearby Seasons in the Park, so that they could meander through the delightful paths while they discussed the murder. It made her think that he loved this place as much as she did, and that warmed her in ways she wasn't sure she wanted to investigate. Focusing on the murder was a good way to keep their leisurely stroll impersonal.
Ellen didn't have a high opinion of Detective Patterson, so she wasn't surprised that the woman wouldn't be willing to share information with Trevor. "If Kyle Gowdy's records are sealed, she can't use them against him, can she?"
"She can get them unsealed if she has enough proof to convince a judge to do it," Trevor said grimly. "For that, she has to have a solid case against Kyle Gowdy."
"In the meantime, she knows the crime he was convicted for, so that is going to influence her clue gathering."
Trevor's lips quirked. "That's the polite way to describe it."
"The person who told Patterson about Kyle's record must have been in our suite."
Trevor nodded. "My thought exactly." He was wearing a well-cut dark suit. His shirt was a pearl gray and his tie marine blue. The colors enhanced his silver hair and the suit his trim waist and hips. To Ellen he looked as polished and sophisticated as the restaurant he was taking her to for dinner.
Their shoes clicked on the path as they wandered along. Ellen had chosen navy blue heels, not quite stilettos, for the evening. She told herself it was because they matched the feminine navy lace sheath over a shimmering silk liner she'd decided to wear, not that they made her legs look long and slender. She'd noticed Trevor looking at her legs earlier when he helped her out of the car. The look had sent a little rush of pleasure through her and made her glad she'd chosen the ultra feminine dress. The sheath was quite stunningly beautiful and it made her feel beautiful too, even now, when it was hidden by the coat she was wearing.
She said thoughtfully, "If he was with us in the suite, it narrows the field."
"Considerably. I can't believe Hammer or his parents would provide the details. By my reckoning there were only a few people who would have that information. Like Bernie Oshall, for instance."
"I thought he was Sledge's friend." As soon as she said the words Ellen gave herself a mental headshake. She couldn't believe she was talking about people called Sledge and Hammer in such a normal everyday way. Really, she should be calling both by their given names, Rob and Graham. But with everyone else, including Trevor, Sledge's father, calling them by the ridiculous nicknames, it was almost impossible to remember the more appropriate designation. She would have to try harder.
"He is," Trevor said. "But Bernie was around when Sledge and Hammer got together and started SledgeHammer. I'm not sure how much he knew about Hammer and his family, but I don't think Kyle's situation was ever a secret."
"So we have one possibility. We can eliminate Quinn and Roy, of course."
"And me!" Trevor said.
Ellen laughed. "And you. Who does that leave us?"
"Mitch and Kim Crosier, and Syd Haynes."
"A rather short list," Ellen said and Trevor nodded.
They descended a set of rock-hewn stairs into one of the reclaimed quarry gardens. The scent of freesia was heavy in the air. Ellen breathed deep, letting the beauty of the place sink into her. They walked past a middle-aged couple dressed casually. Probably tourists. The thought was confirmed when the woman, smiling, asked in broken English if Trevor or Ellen would take a picture of her and her husband in front of the flower bed.
"Of course!" Trevor said, friendly and accommodating in a way Ellen had never been, and probably never would be. Had she been alone she would have walked past the couple without acknowledging them. As she watched the woman and her husband, too, instruct Trevor on the workings of the camera, all of them laughing, she wondered if perhaps she should rethink some of her basic behaviors.
Trevor lifted the camera; the couple posed and he snapped the picture. He took two more shots, then let the couple check the results and offer enthusiastic thanks before he caught Ellen's elbow and moved on. "I doubt Crosier or his wife knows about Kyle's record. That leaves Syd."
"So it was probably Bernie or Syd. That makes sense. They were both involved in Rob and Graham's lives prior to their becoming famous."
Trevor raised his brows at her use of the formal names, but he didn't comment. "I suppose I should check out Crosier too. He might have heard about it somewhere."
"And Vince Nunez, their manager. He knew them early on. Surely he'd know about Kyle's record."
"Good point. I'll ask Sledge—" His mouth quirked into a half smile. "Rob—what Vince knows about Graham's family."
