Emma nodded but there was something she didn’t quite understand. “But I don’t get it,” she murmured. “One day, the cops are all gung-ho about it being the uncle and now they’re questioning Thorpe.”
“Well, The Orange County Register’s website has this video up where Alan basically takes a stand not only against Thorpe, but against Seraphina as well,” Jeremy continued. “I’m certain he’ll be all over the news tonight and in the papers tomorrow morning. Apparently, the police have officially cleared him as a suspect.”
Emma rolled her eyes, too frustrated to speak.
“It’s the Miller kid I’m worried about,” Jeremy went on. He had pulled out of his parking spot and was now in a long line of cars waiting to exit the lot. “He’s twenty years old, brought up from the AHL. The kid’s got some confidence issues he needs to deal with. You saw how shaky he was, and yeah, we might have won and everything, but I think that’s more in thanks to our defense rather than Miller. He did let in four goals after all. And all the pressure to step into Thorpe’s shoes, so to speak, is getting to him. I think he needs to practice more and build up his confidence. The fans have no problem being vocal and” –
Emma decided to tune her father out now that he was obviously going on a tangent. It normally happened when he got tired and was frustrated about something. He just went on and on and on. Which Emma had no problem pretending to listen to his rumblings. Jeremy needed someone to vent to, and he barely asked any questions or her opinion, so her attention wasn’t totally required.
Instead, Emma let her mind focus on the dance, going over the moves in her head. She would probably get home and practice the routine some more even though she’d be up in the morning, practicing it again. There was one part of the song – the breakdown in the middle of the song where things slowed down even more – that she wanted to tighten up. Especially since this Friday, she would start teaching her team the dance. She wanted to make sure she had perfected it before she started teaching it because if she couldn’t get it perfect, then she had no right to expect her team to get the moves down perfect. And she wanted them to get it perfect – as high-strung and anal as it sounded, she would accept nothing less than perfection. To be fair, though, she was the best choreographer on campus – possibly in Newport Beach and Irvine – and she told those that auditioned for her team that her expectations would be high and they would stay high throughout the fall quarter. If they couldn’t handle it, they needed to leave then. If Emma thought they couldn’t handle it throughout the quarter, she would ask them to leave. And once she did that, there would be no return for the dancers.
As of yet, Emma couldn’t tell how the team would do with this particular group. The auditions she held were rigorous and she chose the best twelve people – six girls and six guys – but that didn’t mean this particular routine would sit well with them. But it was fun. It was tough but fun, and she hoped that that would inspire her team to enjoy the routine to the point where they want to do it to the best of their abilities.
“-the fighting is just getting completely out of hand. If Henry Wayne doesn’t get a hold of the team, I wouldn’t be surprised to see an increase in injuries at the start of the season, and that’s not going to go over well with the team. There’s already a chance that Thorpe might not be back for the season – even if he isn’t arrested or is found not guilty, there’s his reputation to take into account, and not only that, but he might decide not to resign with the Gulls and get traded to another team – and if Alec Schumacher keeps fighting – you saw that cut on his forehead. I have no idea why he didn’t bandage that up, even if it was received a few minutes before the game ended – he might get some serious damage down, and if we lose him, our first line takes a hit. Plus, Kyle Underwood – he’s a beast on the ice – but he’s also an instigator, ready to get into the heads of the other team. Which is fine, a good tactic. But he’s that type of guy – like Alec – who can say the wrong thing at the wrong time and piss people off. And the crazy part is that the refs are actually letting them fight which” –
Yup, he was still on a roll.
At least they were on the 57 freeway now.
Now, it would probably take twenty minutes, if that, to get home.
Emma felt herself yawn and she sank deeper into the passenger seat. Even though she was determined to work out the last few hits of the routine, she was exhausted. School had barely started and she could already feel her summer social life slip away from her. It was her last year though, so in a way, she figured that perhaps this last push would be worth it.
Since she had listed everything she wanted to fix in terms of dancing, she felt her mind drift away to something else: Kyle Underwood.
They decided they would be friends. She knew it was the best thing. Both of them were busy with their own thing and both didn’t really have incredibly positive things to say about love and relationships, so it made sense. And she was glad there was no pressure on her to impress Kyle Underwood, as a potential girlfriend. There was no need to be perfect, no need to try too hard. She could just be herself around him, her goofy, slightly anal, and naively optimistic self with him.
Except, it would be harder to do whenever he smiled at her the way he had when they locked eyes on the ice. Even though she told her heart that the connection they had between them was completely platonic, her heart jumped at the sight of him. Forgot to beat. And the butterflies in her stomach amassed to rocks being thrown into its walls.
No, she didn’t want a relationship – with him or with anyone – but she did feel something different. And she didn’t know what that was.
“Okay, time to stop that,” she murmured to herself under her breath.
“What was that?” Jeremy asked, stopping in midsentence to address his daughter.
“Um…” She pressed her lips together before coming up with something quick. “Why won’t the refs stop the fight, exactly?”
Nice save, Winsor.
“The only time, really, that the refs let fights go on is when they feel that there’s a lot of tension between the team,” Jeremy explain. “The fighting might alleviate that tension. But it never happens during preseason. Never. Sure, fights break out, little scraps here and there, but nothing as big as what’s been going on here, and if it did turn into what we’ve been seeing, the refs are normally really good at breaking it out. I have no idea why they continue to let the players fight, but if any of our guys aren’t able to play at the beginning of our season, I will be livid. I would even be tempted to consider bringing a lawsuit against the league about it.”
At the last statement, Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Her father could get a little carried away. Yes, it was rare, but there was a lot going on in her father’s life, that perhaps he needed to relieve the tension by attacking an innocent bystander like the National Hockey League. Although, Emma couldn’t help but agree that the refs needed to step up and prevent the players from hurting each other.
“But I thought that’s what hockey is about,” Emma pointed out, turning to look at Jeremy’s profile. “The fighting and kicking ass and stuff.”
“That’s an added benefit, don’t get me wrong,” Jeremy agreed. “What other sport, besides actual fighting sports, do you get this kind of violence? None. But hockey is more than that. It’s the fastest team sport ever played. And to me, it reminds me of the games I went to with my own father. Granted, he couldn’t afford season tickets, and normally we would sit in the nosebleed seats, but back when I lived in Nashville, in the Municipal Auditorium and watch it together. My dad was a blue-collar guy, working on building things like airplanes and other machines, so he was busy and when he got home, he was tired and didn’t have much time for me. But he always made it a point to take me to games throughout the season. And I got into the game, I got extremely close to my dad, and they were the best nights of my life. That’s what hockey means to me. And to see it get this dismissive quality, sort of exploiting the violence, makes me
frustrated. And that’s an understatement.”
Emma snorted, knowing that frustrated was nowhere near the correct word to describe what her father felt. However, there was something about the story she had been vaguely aware of that she couldn’t help but worry about a teensy bit. He spent time with his father. They bonded, father and son. And Emma? Emma was Jeremy’s only child, a daughter.
“Do you ever wish I was a boy?” she asked. Her voice was quiet and anxious. She always enjoyed her relationship with her father, even with all the awkward conversations they were practically forced to endure. And, to be honest, Emma didn’t think they could get closer. But maybe if she was a boy…
“Never,” he replied, and Emma was certain he meant it. “I love you exactly the way you are. Never feel any different.”
Emma nodded, satisfied. She yawned again. Maybe, instead of working on the dance tonight, she’d just work extra hard tomorrow. She really didn’t need the corrections implemented until Friday. She had enough time.
“I just hope this ends soon,” Jeremy muttered. From the corner of her eyes, Emma saw him shaking his head with disappointment. “This isn’t what hockey is about.”
24. Friday morning, and Seraphina slid into her office chair. It was just after nine in the morning, and even though her meeting with Simon Spade wasn’t for a couple of hours, she decided to get to the office early in order to go over a couple more things she wanted to lock down. There was something about what Henry Wayne had told her about. Papa had mentioned someone came to him about selling the team, but that he wasn’t going to do it.
Then why had an unnamed source gone to the papers and said that Papa was going to sell the team? Who was this source anyways? Was it possible that it was the same person Henry mentioned, the one who went to Papa directly?
Henry said it didn’t sound like Papa was too acquainted with the guy, whoever it was. But that Papa had to have known him. Papa didn’t take advice from strangers or meet with anyone off the street. Not that he didn’t mingle with the public, but he liked to focus on the Gulls, especially when it was hockey season. And even if some random person did advise him to sell the team, it wasn’t likely he’d take it seriously to the point where he mentioned it to Henry.
Why hadn’t he mentioned it to her? Or Katella? Even though they weren’t completely invested in the team like he was, selling the franchise would have affected the family and Seraphina was certain he would tell them about that decision before officially make it, and way before telling whoever that unnamed source was.
Unless of course that source was Alan.
But for whatever reason, Seraphina didn’t think it was Alan. Alan had always been vocal about his father selling the team. It was highly doubtful he would go to the press as some anonymous person when they would probably pay him more if they could quote him directly. The fact that after Papa’s death, he had no problem being videotaped coming out against Seraphina just added to this point. Alan was too prideful to hide behind a safety source. And, as much as Alan wanted to sell the team, even Seraphina knew that Alan wouldn’t cross Papa while Papa was still alive. If Alan wanted to get on Papa’s good side, he would keep his mouth shut to the press about how disagreed with his father about how Papa was managing the team. And Alan was always trying to get on Papa’s good side, always trying to get just one last hand out and of course he’d pay Papa back.
Yeah, right.
Papa learned his lesson the hard way, as did Seraphina and her sister.
But Alan wasn’t the source. Not in Seraphina’s mind.
The past couple of days, Seraphina had been wondering just who this mysterious source was, but for the life of her, she couldn’t put her finger on it, even though she knew, she knew, that she should know who it was. The puzzle was almost pieced together, save for the most important parts of it. And it seemed the more she tried to figure out what those important parts were, the more she felt herself going in circles, learning nothing new about the situation, and running into the same dead end on a consistent basis.
So maybe it would be best to start from left field and see where that took her.
First and foremost, Seraphina doubted that Brandon Thorpe even factored into her grandfather’s death. The fact that he was demanding more money just happened to fall during the wrong time. If she was a betting girl, Seraphina would put her money on Papa potentially selling the team as motive for his death.
Which would reinstate Alan as the primary suspect in Papa’s murder since Alan had no qualms telling people that he thought the team should be sold. Of course he wouldn’t go to the press, but back when Alan was still speaking to his nieces, he had mentioned his opinion to both sisters. They nodded and shrugged their shoulders because they couldn’t actually concentrate on Papa’s hockey team when Katella was just starting her events coordination business and Seraphina was fulfilling her last quarter at UCI before graduating.
They should have paid more attention to him. But it wasn’t like it was the first time had had an opinion about something that was certain he was right about. And then there was the alleged fight people witnessed between Papa and Alan in Papa’s office. Seraphina hadn’t heard if it escalated to violence, but Alan was heard shouting quite a bit before storming off.
But did selling the team guarantee Alan any money? Seraphina didn’t know and Papa never said.
And would Alan really kill Papa if Papa decided not to sell the team? Obviously Alan hadn’t been familiar with Papa’s last will and testament or he’d have known that Alan wouldn’t be getting anything except that one hundred dollars unless Seraphina decided she wanted to sell the team. Which meant that Alan wasn’t getting anything, really. So killing Papa wouldn’t have helped his situation.
Alan, though, was an out-of-work construction worker. He was constantly making promises that required a good deal of financial backing, gambled a little less than frequently, and yearned to have the prestigious, wealthy, and respected reputation his father had. Which meant he had the time and the tool to knock Papa over the head. But there was a catch. Seraphina highly doubted that, like Brandon Thorpe, Alan wouldn’t have needed to actually strangle Papa. Alan might have smoked and was a recovering – at times – alcoholic, but he was stronger than his father. If he hit Papa with some kind of tool or a metal pole or something, he could produce enough force to kill Papa. Strangulation wasn’t necessary. And as much as Alan wanted lots of money in return for minimal effort, and even if he got so enraged that he hit Papa over the head with a weapon, Seraphina didn’t think Alan could actually strangle Papa.
But who really knew?
People had sides of them they were apt to hide.
So Alan killing Papa was possible, just not probable. At least in Seraphina’s mind.
The fact that Seraphina kept going back to was that extra push to kill Papa.
The strangulation.
The killer then had to be someone Papa’s age.
“What about Henry?” Serraphina asked in disbelief. She sat up straighter, now that she decided to entertain the thought that perhaps Papa’s closest friend was actually responsible for Papa’s death.
Again, it was possible, wasn’t it?
Not only was Henry around Papa’s age which would mean they were equally matched in terms of strength, but Henry had a motive if the Gulls were sold: Henry Wayne might be out of a job. And Seraphina knew that, like her grandfather, Henry was especially invested in the Newport Beach Seagulls and loved coaching the team. He used to play for the Los Angeles Centaurs, and after Papa forgave him, he hired Henry to replace the previous coach, and the two remained close for the past six years. Henry had to work to give purpose to her life. That Seraphina knew because Papa was the same way. Yes, they loved their family and they loved spending time with their family, but they liked having something to keep their mind occupied. Both men were proud of this team.
Papa mentioned to Henry that someone was interested in getting him to sell the team. Even though Papa had
reassured his friend that he wasn’t planning on going through with it, maybe Henry didn’t believe him. Maybe he read the papers and saw this source also saying that Ken wanted to sell the team and didn’t actually believe Ken.
But that didn’t sound like Henry. Those who knew Papa knew that he would never lie about something, and when he made a decision, he followed through with it. Henry had no reason not to believe Papa if Papa said he had no interest in selling the team. They had a close, trusting friendship and Papa was always honest, even brutally so. And Henry knew that.
Which meant Henry had no motive for killing Papa if he still had a job.
It still bothered Seraphina that it was still possible that Henry could possibly have done it. But she didn’t want to assume anything until she knew it for sure.
Who else could it possibly be?
Before Seraphina could sift through her memories to pick out another possible candidate to think about, a knock interrupted her.
“Yeah, come in,” she called, glancing at the clock on her computer.
9:44 in the morning?
The door opened and Brandon Thorpe walked in. Beyond her control, Seraphina felt herself straighten and her eyes went wide. Wasn’t he supposed to be in police custody? Well, technically speaking, he had brought in for questioning. Which meant he could probably leave whenever he wanted. So it wasn’t all surprising that he was “out” but what did surprise Seraphina was just he was doing here.
She gestured at the chair across from her desk. “May I help you?” she asked, folding her hands on the surface of the desk.
He looked fine. Not that Seraphina expected him to look not fine or anything, but who knew how long he had been at the station, in the interrogation room, sitting in one of those uncomfortable seats with cops coming at him, asking him questions over and over again. She kind of felt bad for him.
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