Play On (31 page)

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.

But looking at Thorpe, Seraphina noticed that he maybe looked a little bit exhausted, but nowhere near the haggard mess
she’d no doubt look like had she gone through the same ordeal.  He was wearing fitting grey sweatpants and a green t-shirt that wasn’t too tight, but managed to sculpt his torso in nothing short but a flattering way.  It also happened to bring out those pale green eyes.  His dark brown hair looked a little disheveled and maybe there were tiny bags underneath his eyes, but he still looked…

Well, since Seraphina couldn’t breathe at the moment for a slew of different reasons, breath-taking would probably suffice.

He took the offered seat, sliding into it with a grace that was tainted with controlled strength, and crossed his leg so his right ankle rested on his left knee.  For whatever reason, Seraphina found this quality to be incredibly attractive and masculine; her uncle Ryan would always cross his legs similar to that of a woman, and this always made her feel somewhat uncomfortable due to how feminine it was.  Not that she had a prejudice against those he did it, but she preferred the way Brandon crossed his legs.

“Are you okay?” Seraphina couldn’t help but ask.  It was hard for her to believe that she actually had a conscious thought about
the way Brandon Thorpe crossed his legs
and that
she was actually attracted to it
, and she needed to say something in order to get those ridiculous thoughts out of her mind.