Detective Williams’ supposed motive for Brandon Thorpe seemed thin, even if the goaltender didn’t have an alibi. Alan’s greed issues seemed like a more persuasive argument than wanting to play for the Gulls, but maybe that was Seraphina’s naïve opinion.
The man looked at her with such a piercing stare that Seraphina almost felt burned by the stare, but she forced herself to keep contact with him.
It was another moment before he said, “If we learn anything else, we’ll be sure to let you know.” He stood, and Katella walked him out, thanking him for everything he had done.
Seraphina stared at the untouched coffee cup left by the detective. Why would he ask for coffee if he wasn’t going to drink it?
“What were you thinking, Sera?” Katella demanded, walking back into the dining room. Her brow was furrowed and she got that wrinkle over the bridge of her nose over she normally got when she was either frustrated or annoyed. It got deepest when she was both, and Seraphina could tell that her sister was both. “Detective Williams came all the way here to tell us about Papa’s death and a new suspect. Why were you so incredibly disrespectful?”
“He was disrespectful!” Seraphina replied, throwing her arms out. “He didn’t even tell us about Alan and then comes over to tell us about his new suspect, Brandon Thorpe?”
“He doesn’t have to tell us anything! He’s doing this out of a courtesy.” Katella took a seat, locking eyes with her sister. Seraphina knew that Katella was trying to read her eyes. “This isn’t like you, Sera. Is it because that Brandon Thorpe is the new primary suspect? I know he’s cute and everything” –
“Kat, please give me more credit than that.” Seraphina rolled her eyes, feeling herself become more and more annoyed at the conversation. This was probably why she didn’t mention her theory to Williams in the first place; she wouldn’t be taken seriously. Who was she to defend Brandon Thorpe, a man she barely knew? “I really don’t think he did it.”
“Come on, Sera. I get your stance. I think it’s admirable that you’re showing your support for team, your players. That you have faith in them and that you think the fans and everyone else should too. But have you even considered that Brandon Thorpe could have done this? Maybe his motive isn’t as strong as Alan’s, but if what Williams said is true and Thorpe was the last person to see him alive then...” Katella shrugged her shoulders and looked away. “I mean, it’s possible.”
“Even you said he didn’t do it.”
“Yeah, but I also said he was anti-social and brooding. I don’t know him the way I know Alec and Kyle and those guys.”
“I feel it in my gut, Kat. My gut.” Katella stopped.
Seraphina nodded. Intuition was an important factor between the Hanson sisters. They both believed in it, almost as much if not more so than fact or reason. Seraphina would get the occasional feeling directing her to make a decision. She had one the night her parents went out, and tried with all her might to keep them from leaving because for whatever reason, she thought they weren’t going to come home. And they hadn’t. That was the night they died thanks to a drunk driver. A few weeks before that, Katella had a bad dream that her parents had died, which she quickly forgotten after they reassured her that that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. While Seraphina got feelings, Katella had dreams, normally metaphorical that she had to decipher herself, but other times, quite literal.
When one sister mentioned intuition while making a decision, the other normally stopped and supported them.
Seraphina was hoping this wouldn’t change, and judging from the deflated look on her sister’s face, it hadn’t.
“So there’s no way that Brandon demands more money, Papa refuses, so Brandon kills him?” Katella said.
“But see, that’s just it,” Seraphina said, shaking her head. “I actually talked to Brandon about the meeting – I saw it in Papa’s planner and I wanted to know what they discussed – and Brandon said there was no meeting. He went to Papa’s office but no one was there. The door was shut, he knocked, and when no one answered, he left. There was no discussion which meant Papa didn’t refuse Brandon’s offer and Brandon didn’t kill Papa. And I looked through Papa’s books. There was no change in finances for this season. Simon Spade is going to drop by my office on Friday to drop off the official books so I can confirm, but Papa wasn’t planning on trading him and it didn’t seem like he was going to give him his raise, either.” She placed both hands on the flat of the table’s surface. “I think Papa was planning on benching Thorpe – keeping his salary the same – and playing our second goaltender more. Like a compromise.”
“Papa wasn’t big on compromise if his player needs to be taught a lesson,” Katella pointed out. “Why would he do this for Thorpe?”
“I don’t know,” Seraphina said, shrugging her shoulder. “But you know Thorpe. He’s quiet. He doesn’t really talk. And he was good. Really good. Papa probably didn’t want to lose that.”
“This is all speculation, Sera,” Katella murmured. “I mean, I believe you but you can’t go up to Williams and tell him that your gut says it isn’t Brandon. You have to have something concrete.”
“Okay, well what about the fact that Brandon Thorpe is taller than Papa, like by half a head? And he’s young. Twenty-nine, I think. Papa’s strong and everything, but there’s no way he could take on Brandon so there’s no reason for Brandon to have knocked Papa’s head with a brick or whatever and then go on to choke him to death. Thorpe could probably have killed Papa with just a blow to the head.”
“But wouldn’t the police have thought of that?” Katella pointed out. “And maybe Thorpe choked Papa after knocking him in the head because it was, I don’t know, a crime of passion. Couldn’t Thorpe have gotten so pissed that he just flipped out?”
“Thorpe’s a hockey player,” Seraphina said. “If he was that mad, he wouldn’t have used a weapon, he’d just use his hands.” She shrugged. “But you know him better than I do, at least through Matt. What does Matt think?”
Katella ran a finger through her hair. “Matt just knows him on a professional level,” she said. “I guess, on rare occasions, Thorpe will join the guys for a drink or whatever they choose to do after a game or practice, but not really. It’s like I said – quiet, brooding. But Matt will mention Thorpe’s friends back in Canada, so maybe he’s a different person when he goes back home. Here, he just seems to keep to himself.” She paused, pursing her lips. Seraphina recognized the gesture as Katella thinking carefully of how to word what to say next. “To be honest, I think there was tension between him and the players because of the money situation. I don’t know, though, Sera. You know me. You know I want to believe the best in every person, but a lot of the time, they tend to let me down. But...” She paused again, looking at her sister and offering her a supportive smile. “If you have faith in him, well, I have faith in you.”
“Thanks.” And Seraphina meant it.
“So if it’s not Thorpe, who is it?” Katella asked, leaning back in her chair.
“Someone old, obviously,” Seraphina said. “If we think that someone wanted to knock Papa down or catch him off his guard in order to choke him. Either that, or someone who wanted to cause Papa a lot of pain.”
A beat, and then Katella asked, “You don’t think it’s really Alan, do you?”
Seraphina opened her mouth before slowly closing it. How was she supposed to answer that? “Well, Detective Williams said he had an alibi, right?” she began. “But Kat, honestly, I saw Alan’s temper. He came into my office a couple of days ago, telling me that I should sell the team, that I couldn’t handle it. I said one little thing that pissed him off to the point where he threw everything but the computer off my desk. Like one sweeping motion. And it scared me, Kat. I’ve never been afraid of him before, but I was, in that moment.” She swallowed, shuddering. She shook her head to get rid of the memory. “And I don’t know the details, but we both know that Alan owes a lot of people a lot of money and even though Alan
just got a lot of money from Papa’s will, he always wants more.”
Chapter 10
It was probably a good thing that no one walked in Seraphina’s office due to the fact the woman was huddled over her desk, completely asleep. The morning’s meeting with Detective Christopher Williams and the subsequent discussion with Katella left her feeling exhausted. She drank two more cups of coffee before heading into work that morning, determined to expand her hockey knowledge by reading and accumulating more information on her player’s stats. She wanted to figure out what happened to her grandfather but it wasn’t likely she would get any information from numbers and a description of different plays.
She managed to gain some headway, so she took a break during lunch. Again, the media was waiting out front of the Sea Side Ice Palace, so she grabbed an intern and sent him out to Olive Garden for some macaroni and cheese and some milk. As she waited, she pulled out a book she read for fun – the latest Meg Cabot – and tried to block out the many questions swimming through her mind about Papa, Thorpe, and even Alan. When the intern returned, he seemed hesitant.
“What’s wrong?” Seraphina asked, opening the styrofoam box.
“You might want to check out The Register’s website,” he said, scratching the back of his head. A nervous gesture, Seraphina realized. He turned around and headed outside before Seraphina could ask further questions, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Well, that was weird,” she murmured to herself, her mouth filled with cheesy pasta. But she decided to take the kid’s advice. Seraphina never thought she was intimidating. In fact, she had hoped that she came off as warm and approachable. She wanted her employees to come to her with problems or suggestions. On a more selfish note, Seraphina wanted her employees to actually take her seriously, but not to the point where they ran away from her.
Her mind halted.
There, on the front page of The Register’s website, was a video featuring Alan Brown, her uncle. The uncle that had been the police’s primary suspect up until they decided they had more evidence to get Brandon Thorpe.
“What the...”
Seraphina glanced around, and then chided herself for making sure she had privacy. The video was on the web; apparently, people knew about it even before she did. She would have to leave a message on Katella’s phone to check it out after her Katella’s one o’clock meeting. But first, she would have to figure out just what this video was about.
She didn’t know why she hesitated. She was afraid of what he would say. She clicked the play button and held her breath. Shouts from the press that hounded a well-dressed Alan – probably suspecting the media would want to speak to him, or maybe he called them himself – asked him multiple questions: did he do it; how did he feel to be a suspect in his father’s murder case; how did it feel knowing his niece inherited the team over him; how did he feel with Brandon Thorpe being a suspect? Granted, Alan waited until they quieted down. He always did like to make people wait, to make an impression that showcased him being more important than he really was.
“I am pleased that Detective Williams and the Newport Beach Police Department has ruled me out as a suspect,” Alan began in a clear, firm voice. “I understand that they were just doing their job so there are no hard feelings from me. I am hoping now the police can focus their attention on the person who actually committed this devastating tragedy. Brandon Thorpe is an amazing hockey player, essential to the Gulls’ success. If it is true that he, indeed, did kill my father, I hope he is punished by the fullest extent of the law. I want justice for my father, and for my family.”
Seraphina snorted. When did he ever care about her and her sister? Or even Ryan, for that matter?
“I am somewhat disappointed that Seraphina Hanson, my youngest niece, inherited the Newport Beach Seagulls. While she is brilliant, she is also young and naïve, and perhaps the best thing for everyone, including herself and for the team, would be to sell the team. As noted by the past few preseason games, it is easy to tell that she is not handling my father’s death well, especially by publicly supporting Brandon Thorpe. I’m not certain why she did that – though he is rather easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” The media chuckled at the insinuation and Seraphina couldn’t help but turn red. “But it’s just another action that shows her ignorance. In fact, I’m going to look into my grandfather’s mental health around the time he made this will. If Seraphina doesn’t step down as owner, I might have to challenge my father’s decision in court.”
This, of course, sent a flurry of questions directed at Alan, but he was finished speaking. He placed his note cards in the pocket of his jacket lapel and walked away, which was where the video stopped.
There were too many things to feel. Too many questions. Her eyes were bombarded with tears that so desperately wanted to fall, but a measure of defense refused to let them.
The first thought that crossed Seraphina’s mind was the fact that if Alan actually pursued challenging the will, he would get nothing. Didn’t he know that? Did it matter, though? Could he say he was doing something without really doing it? Perhaps he wanted to turn the public against her, not that that would be difficult. There was always some comment about how she was royally screwing this up.
Seraphina called Katella and left a voice message. “Hey, it’s me. There’s something you need to see. I’m sending you the link right now. Call me when you get this.”
A couple of tears managed to slip past their barricades, and she allowed herself a few, long moments to feel sorry for herself. In essence, Alan was right. Seraphina was in way over her head. She didn’t know what she was doing. Publicly defending Thorpe was the right thing to do – she knew that. But she also knew that people wouldn’t see it that way. Sure, the players on the team and the coaching staff would appreciate it, hopefully, but people on the outside were going to judge her. Perhaps if she was older, had more experienced, had thick skin, she could handle it. But honestly, she just graduated college, unsure of what she was going to do in her life when suddenly thrust into this management position she really didn’t want which. She knew she would make mistakes but she didn’t realize that every mistake would be publicly criticized, scrutinized, and then she would be crucified on a constant basis.
She wasn’t prepared for this.
She didn’t know what to do.
So she cried and cried, thankful that maybe her staff was too intimidated to come in and interrupt her, to ask her a question about something. She just wanted to be alone.
It wasn’t long before Katella called her younger sister and calmed her down. Seraphina didn’t feel comfortable enough to share her worries with anybody else except for Katella, and her sister was always there, rationally explaining that Seraphina could do this. Sometimes she would give her encouraging quotes, other times she would let her younger sister talk, mostly in circles. It always worked, though, and by the time Seraphina hung up, her confidence was pieced back together. Tattered and not fully formed, but much better compared right after Alan’s video.
Seraphina finished her pasta even though it was cold and then resumed her work. But now, it was harder to concentrate, and before Seraphina realized it, she was fast asleep.
No one would blame her. She’d been dealing with a lot.
Actually, scratch that – everyone would blame her. She couldn’t drink a cup of coffee without being criticized about the type of coffee she was drinking, how she was holding her cup, anything they could get her on.
How could these people hate her without even knowing her?
It was the vibration of her cell phone that woke her up. When she saw that it was Katella calling and seeing that it was just after five thirty on her computer screen, Seraphina shot up, threw away her trash from lunch, and dashed out of her office and down towards the rink. She slid in her seat a minute and eight seconds into the game, just in time to see Alec Schumacher and a Shark get into a fistfight.
“You have a knack for appearing at just the right minute,
don’t you?” Katella murmured, her lips curled up into a smirk. Her forest green eyes sparkled as she took in the brawl, but Seraphina noticed a sheen of worry encasing that delighted sparkle as well. It was as though Katella couldn’t decide whether she was excited for the fight or upset because she knew someone would end up hurt.
“It’s not even two minutes into the first period,” Seraphina complained. “What happened?”
“Considering the Shark is the one taking the penalty,” Katella said, “I’m guessing that the Shark was mouthing off to Alec so Alec mouthed off back, but you know Alec; the guy has a knack for saying the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time in order to piss his opposition off. Besides Gordon Stash, I think Alec is the Gull with the most penalty minutes.”
It was at that point in their conversation that Kyle Underwood scored the goal during the power play, and both sisters stopped talking, jumped up, and cheered.
When the stadium quieted and Henry Wayne made quick changes before the ref dropped the puck at the centerline, the crowd sat down. Seraphina turned towards her sister. “Which one is Gordon Stash again?” Seraphina gently gnawed on her bottom lip. She knew she should know who Gordon Stash was; she had heard his name before. But for the life of her, she could not remember his face or what he was known for.
“The fans love him,” Katella replied. “He’s a fourth-line center and he’s known for two things.” She started counting the reasons on her long fingers. “That black handlebar moustache he sports throughout the entire season and his fighting. He doesn’t ever start fights unless provoked or if one of his teammates is provoked, but, I mean look at the guy.” She gestured at a man on the ice. “His presence on the ice is intimidating. He really doesn’t have to fight to scare the other team.”
Blood on the Rocks: A Slapshot Prequel (A Slapshot Prequel Trilogy Book 1) Page 9