“I was here, closer to the door and Brett was near the bed. My flight leaves at five in the morning so I was getting all my luggage ready for a fast departure.” Rylan stopped and shrugged. “You learn to be efficient that way when most your life is lived city to city. Anyway, we were talking and my back was to the door. I heard a noise, like someone was at the door trying to listen.”
“What were you discussing?”
Without missing a beat Rylan said, “Plans for the next few weeks after the tour ends.”
Brett nodded his agreement when D.C. Swift looked at him. What Rylan said was true enough and their argument had no bearing on anything.
“Go on,” Swift prompted.
“I was close to the door so I got there, opened it and ran out into the hall to try to see who it was. But no one was there,” Rylan said.
“I went up and down the hall and all I saw was closed doors,” Brett explained. “We thought whoever it was had to have gone somewhere on this floor. There wasn’t enough time for the elevator and I think we’d have heard it.”
“This is a clear threat.” Swift held up the postcard. “You’re determined to get on that plane to—?”
“Calgary. Yes,” Rylan said softly.
Swift sighed. “I expected as much. This statement, it’s angry. Anger goes with crimes of passion. You didn’t receive any threats until you and Mr. Rocha became a public ‘item’, correct?”
Brett and Rylan said together, “Yes.”
“Angry people are messy. They leave a trail of evidence that’s almost embarrassingly easy to follow sometimes. So, my theory is whoever is angry is working with a professional, someone not emotionally involved and who knows how to cover their tracks. They pick postcards that can be obtained anywhere and have probably already been handled by other people. The other postcards had, collectively, both of your prints, those of Miss Rocha and Mr. Sebastian, and hotel employees. So, I think it’s safe to say the postcards were purchased in this hotel. On one of them we did pull a partial print of someone else. I contacted your FBI as well as Canadian agencies in the hopes we get a hit.” Swift shrugged. “Maybe this one will give us new information.”
“Most of the people staying on this floor are with my performance company. I can’t believe one of my friends would do this,” Rylan said.
“It could be someone outside the troupe that knows one of your co-workers. Someone who is a total stranger and managed to get a room on this floor, there are a lot of possibilities. Mr. Hennessy, has anyone made romantic overtures toward you, other than Mr. Rocha, in the last few months? Even something small you could have mistaken as a friendly gesture. A small gift, someone always wanting to eat with you, share a cab with you, anything like that? Someone you know, not a random fan.”
Rylan sat quietly for a few minutes before shaking his head. “No. Usually when we do things we’re—people from Celebration on Ice—in a group. We’re always in new cities and it’s safer. There are times a performer or crewmember has friends and family on our tour, but that wasn’t the case here in Vancouver.”
The detective took out her phone. “Let’s experiment and see if we can narrow down where our delivery person went. Mr. Hennessy if you’d stand where you were when you realized there was someone at the door.”
Rylan stepped into position. He looked around, took a half step to the side, and said, “I was about here.”
Swift held up her phone and Brett saw she had the stopwatch app open. “I’m going to time you. Ready?”
“Yes,” Rylan said.
“Go.”
Rylan spun on his heels, got the door open, and darted into the hall. Swift looked at her phone and pressed the screen, stopping the time.
“Not much time,” Brett said. He was standing behind her. “I ran down the hall to the next corridor where the elevators are.”
“Now you,” She said to Brett.
After he was standing approximately where he’d been during his ‘discussion’ with Rylan, Swift started the stopwatch and they repeated the process. “Only a little more time. Okay, let’s go on the theory you’re an average runner.” She pointed to Brett. “If you’d go out into the hall and run down it on my mark?”
Brett nodded and took up position. When she pointed at him, Brett ran until she ordered, “Stop. Stay there for a minute.” Swift took out a notebook and walked along the corridor, copying down the room numbers. “Go back to where you started, please.” Brett complied and waited for her to give him the signal to run again. He darted down the hall until she said, “Stop.”
Again, she copied down the room numbers. At the junction with another hall she halted. “Did you see this?”
Brett stepped closer and Rylan jogged down the hall to meet them. Tucked between two vending machines was a narrow door. It was painted so it blended in with the wall.
“What’s that?” Rylan asked.
Swift turned and looked at him. “Let’s find out.” She tried the handle which fell off in her hand. Using two fingers through the hole where the handle should be, she eased the door open, stepped back and drew her sidearm then leaned in to look. “Well, this explains a lot.” She moved away so Brett and Rylan could see as well. There was a narrow space with a ladder anchored to the wall.
Swift explained, “Old building. This was probably here before elevators were put in.” She turned to them. “You two go back to your room and give me a little bit.”
“What are you going to do?” Brett asked.
“Good, old fashioned police work,” Swift smirked. “Knock on doors and ask questions.”
Detective Swift was knocking on their door a little less than an hour later. Brett opened the door in time to watch her flip her notebook closed. “There was one couple, in the room closest to that access door who took over the room today. I’ll check with the hotel, but I doubt whoever occupied it before they did is part of your troupe.”
“What did the others say?” Rylan asked. He sat on the bed, hands folded in his lap and had been uncharacteristically quiet.
“If any of them are lying they’re all damn good at it. No one knew anything, and I believe them.” She pocketed her notepad and focused on Rylan. “I can offer you protection.”
“But that would mean I’d be unable to perform,” Rylan said. Swift nodded and Rylan sighed. “I’ll be alright with the rest of the company.”
“Not to be indelicate, but Miss Rocha and Mr. Sebastian were also with your group,” Swift pointed out.
“No, they weren’t,” Brett countered. “They’d left the group. If Rylan stays with the other performers and in public, he’ll be okay. You asked me to stay in Vancouver for a few more days, and I’d intended to remain here until Celia’s body was released, but you said that wouldn’t be for a while.”
“Weeks,” Swift confirmed. “Maybe longer.”
“As long as Rylan does what those notes demand, he’s likely safe?”
Swift nodded. “I think so, yes.”
“We’re going to be in the Olympic Park,” Rylan added. “Security is good there.”
“I’m going to contact some colleagues and I’ll ask them to be discrete, but please cooperate with them,” Swift said.
“I will.” Rylan looked up at Brett. “What about when you get to Calgary?”
Swift’s gaze slid for a few seconds to Brett’s, she obviously understood the meaning of Rylan’s question.
“Rylan should be fine while I’m not there, right? And when I get there, well, do you know what an enforcer is?” Brett asked.
“I’m Canadian.” Swift smiled. “I do and you were a very good one. However, your sister was with her fiancé.”
“Clive was a stock broker, that’s a little different,” Rylan said. “I bet he never threw a punch in his life. Celia was the athlete.”
“I can’t force you to do anything. My advice is, take our protection, but if you’re not going to do that, and it seems to me you’ve made your decision, at least let me help you formul
ate a plan. Maybe if we’re lucky we can catch whoever is threatening you and killed Miss Rocha and Mr. Sebastian.” Swift paused and sighed. “Our perpetrator is smart. Hotels are noisy places with a lot of traffic, which means evidence is destroyed quickly. However, they do have security cameras. I’ve talked to the management and they volunteered security footage, but there’s a lot of it and it takes time going through it all.” She looked back to Rylan. “Will you at least take some precautions I’ll lay out for you?”
“I definitely would,” Rylan replied, his features brightening.
For the next half hour Brett listened to Swift give Rylan a list of do’s and don’ts, most of which Rylan seemed familiar with and a few he stated he practiced on a regular basis. Brett’s anxiety over Rylan leaving for Calgary eased somewhat.
When Swift left them, Brett checked that the door was locked and piled Rylan’s luggage directly in front of it. “There. That wouldn’t stop someone, but it’d make a helluva lot of noise if anyone tries to break in.”
“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” Rylan said softly. He settled in the middle of the bed and rolled to his side, facing away from Brett in the pull-out bed. There was no invitation to join Rylan, so Brett didn’t.
The following morning, he accompanied Rylan to where everyone was meeting for their jaunt to the airport. Brett had other friends among the troupe and he wanted to see them all off and wish them a safe trip. He promised, repeatedly, to be in Calgary with time to spare to see the next show and made sure he’d said it so Rylan wouldn’t miss hearing. While their luggage was prepared for transport he made himself generally useful by hauling large boxes and some of the heavier suitcases. Each member of the troupe took one or two bags with personal items on the plane, but the rest, along with specialized equipment for the performances, was transported on semi-trucks.
A bus would take the entire human cargo to the airport as a group. When it arrived, Brett managed to pull Rylan off to the side, and out of view of Kathryn the dragon lady.
“Email and text and call me, regularly, so I know you’re safe.” Brett pulled Rylan into a hug.
He felt Rylan nod against his shoulder. “I will, I promise.”
Pressing a long, solid kiss to Rylan’s forehead before holding him at arm’s length, Brett said, “I’ll wrap things up here and won’t be far behind you. I’m booked into a hotel near the Saddledome. You’re welcome to come stay with me if you’d like.”
“I’ll ask, I’d like that.” Rylan twisted and looked at the troupe lining up to board the bus. “I’d better get on or Kathryn will have my hide.”
“Nah…you’re the star. No one will pay to see you skate all bloody and gross with no skin.”
Rylan burst out laughing, rocked up on his toes, and put his arms around Brett’s neck. A quick hug and a peck on the cheek and Rylan was gone.
Brett could see how nervous—scared—Rylan was and admired his fortitude. Yes, Rylan had competed in some pretty rough parts of the world, but violence was never directed at him personally.
Brett was scared, too.
He stood on the sidewalk and waved as the buses pulled away then returned to his hotel room.
Once again, Brett Rocha was suddenly, terribly, painfully alone.
Chapter 9
Brett grabbed breakfast and went back to their—his—room. The average sized hotel room now seemed cavernous and empty. He was tempted to try yodeling to see if there was an echo.
He pulled out his phone and checked for any message from Rylan. Blowing out a harsh breath, Brett tossed the phone onto the bed.
“He’s probably on the plane. No texts or calls allowed. I’ll be lucky if he sends me anything. I don’t blame him for being pissed. I’m pissed at myself.”
Brett took the envelope of receipts and dropped it onto the bed. If Rylan was an addiction, maybe this was what withdrawal was like.
“Remember what happened to the other people you needed. Don’t get too attached, don’t need him.” Except he already did need Rylan and he’d likely use a much stronger word than attached to describe his feelings once he sorted them out.
His phone chimed, Brett snatched it off the bed and without looking at the screen he asked, “Rylan?” Who the hell was he kidding? No one, that’s who. Brett already missed Rylan.
There was a chuckle from the other end, a man’s voice, older, raspier and a welcome, comforting port in the storm raging in Brett’s head.
“That answers a lot of my questions,” George said. Brett could picture him sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair. “Seems I’ll have to find a new Dom.”
“Huh? What, why—?”
“Yeah, we’ll get to that in a few minutes. I went over the scans you sent me of those receipts and I think I know what was bothering you,” George told him.
“Go on.”
“If you look at the receipts the signatures for card numbers ending in 0987 match, and the same is true with card number 2593.”
While George talked, Brett dumped the receipts onto the bed and moved them around. “Okay. What does that prove?”
“Nothing other than they kept receipts. However,” George paused, no doubt for dramatic effect and Brett imagined him holding up one finger. “There is one receipt with the card ending in 2698, look close the numbers are a bit smudged. The signature is similar to Clive’s but not the same.”
“Someone used a different card and tried to make it look like Clive’s? Why?”
“I have no idea,” George said. “But look at where the card was run.”
“Frisky Flirts. It’s a BDSM club here.”
“I know I looked up all the locations where the cards were used. And you forget, I handled your finances when you were on the road. No secrets from the accountant.” George paused. “Which leads me to another subject.”
“George, I—”
“Oh, shush and listen. That Rylan, he’s a sweet guy. The type of guy you build a life with, not just hop into bed with from time to time. The two of you are just what each of you needs. You both understand life on the road, commitments to your sport and most importantly both of you needs someone who needs someone. Brett, you’re my friend but sometimes you play it too safe. Jump off the edge once in a while,” George said. “Do more with that young man than crack his ass and have sex.”
Brett wasn’t even going to ask how George knew what his feelings for Rylan were. Hell, he wasn’t sure he knew himself. “He left this morning for Calgary, next stop on the Celebration on Ice tour.” He cringed at how small his voice sounded.
“Are you going as well?”
“I said I’d be there for the opening of the show. There’s still some things here I need to clear up and honestly, I think Rylan is safer without me hanging around right now. There’s a hotel room reserved for me near Olympic Park.”
“Brett, you need to listen to me.” George was using his no-nonsense business voice. “It’s time you stopped pretending hook ups in clubs are a substitute for love. I love my wife, we share everything with each other, we have common interests, and we plain enjoy each other’s company. Yeah, we have different wants sexually, but as you’ve probably guessed we worked that out. I love being with her. You should give a life with Rylan a shot. Right out of the gate you have the same sexual preferences, which is a bonus,” George pointed out.
“How’d you—?”
“Ha!” George barked a laugh. “You just told me. Finish up whatever you need to in Vancouver, get in a car, because Lord love a duck, you won’t get on a plane unless you have to, and drive to Calgary. Go on a date with Rylan, dinner, movies, whatever and see where it goes. Be the utterly charming devil I know you can be and love spending time with him.”
“I do,” Brett admitted then heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right, I’m an accountant.”
“I’ll take these receipts to the detective handling Celia’s investigation. She’ll probably want
to talk to you some more if you don’t mind. If she asks about our relationship, tell her as much as you’re comfortable with.” Brett paused. “And George, thanks for understanding.”
“Call me and let me know you’ve arrived safely and that Rylan is doing well,” George said before bidding Brett good-bye.
He’d no sooner set the phone down when it chimed another call coming in. This time he remembered to check the screen to see who was calling. Making the same mistake twice would be embarrassing.
After taking time to gather his thoughts, Brett answered. “Detective, good morning.”
“I think I have something to show you, and more information. Would you be able to come to the station?” Lindsey Swift cut right to it, Brett admired her for that.
“Sure. I’ll leave now. I might have some more evidence for you.” Brett ended the call and grabbed his keys, coat, and the receipts. He was happy to leave this room and have somewhere else to be for a few hours.
When he arrived at the station, Lindsey Swift was waiting for him and led him to her desk.
“What is it you have for me?” She asked after they were both seated.
Brett pulled out the envelope of receipts. “These are receipts they—Celia and Clive—kept, most of it is generic stuff, bought lunch, saw a movie, everyday things. There is one that isn’t theirs. It’s on the top. I’d sent scans of the receipts to my accountant for his help with their final finances and he noticed it. It’s from Frisky Flirts and matches up with a date Celia and Clive went there as well.”
DC Swift’s eyebrows shot up. She pulled on a pair of gloves and extracted the slips of paper from the envelope. “Paper isn’t a bad source of fingerprints, body oils, and sometimes DNA. We might get lucky. Maybe they kept this receipt as proof of something.” She turned her computer monitor so Brett could see it. “Do you know what this is?”
Brett snorted. “I grew up on ice—that’s an ice pick. I think it’s the kind used with ice sculptures.” He leaned forward. “There are ice sculptures at the Celebration on Ice show venues and Lars Sweeny is an amateur ice sculptor. A lot of the companies that do the sculptures leave a half dozen or so cheap ones at each site that can be tossed later. That way the venue employees can easily break up the ice and take down a sculpture.” Shrugging he grinned. “I’ve done it, it’s sort of fun.”
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