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But Detective Williams’ supposed motive for Brandon Thorpe seemed thin, even if the goaltender didn’t have an alibi.  And
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’s 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.  So while Seraphina got feelings, Katella had dreams, normally metaphorical that she had to decipher herself, but other times, quite literal.

And when one of them 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.”  

19
.
 
Madison didn’t remember ever feeling this happy before.  No, scratch that.  Happy wasn’t the right word.  Light.  Carefree.  Yes, those worked much better.  She felt light and carefree and as a result, she felt happy.  God, she probably looked like the biggest idiot ever, what with the silly smile that had been plastered to her face, ever since she got out of social psychology.  Oh well.  She would need that smile tonight when she was out on the ice.  Another preseason game was scheduled, and right now, she was walking into Sea Side an hour before the game started for the usual pre-game meeting.

After she headed below, Madison suddenly noticed a commotion going on.  Did the protesters manage to get to the locker rooms?  There was no way.  The smile slid off her face and her eyes searched the crowd furiously, looking for Amanda or at least someone she recognized.  Something was wrong, off, but she wasn’t sure what that was.

When she saw Alec, half-dressed for the game, she pushed through the crowd to reach him.  “Hey,” she said, getting his attention by placing her hand on his forearm.  When he locked eyes with her, momentarily distracted by the commotion, she asked, “What’s going on?”

There was no sparkle in those midnight blue eyes.  In fact, they looked almost black.  His padding had yet to put on, and as a result, Madison could clearly see the tension in Alec’s upper body.  His chin was tucked down, his hands controlled down by his sides.  She had to reach out in order to touch him, to grab him.  His lips were pressed in a thin line, curled down.  There was no charming compliment coming from his lips, no smartass retort about her touching him.  In fact, Madison had never seen him look so… furious before.  She immediately released him, afraid to send him over the edge, something he looked close to teetering over.

“Sorry.”  His voice was tight but gentle.  Madison watched as he blinked once, twice, and then looked down at the arm Madison had so recently been holding on to.  It appeared as though he had been in some kind of trance.  He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and led her down a vacant hallway.  No one could see them, but they could certainly here the ruckus nearby. 

“What was that?” he asked once he double-checked that they were alone.

At least he sounded more like him.

“Um,” Madison murmured under her breath.  “What’s going on?  I haven’t seen it so crowded down here.”

“Yeah, it’s the press,” he told her.  “Coach wanted to call a quick press conference before the game in order to answer a few questions.  But a few questions turned into more than a few questions and now instead of asking questions, they’re demanding answers.  Not just from Coach, but from Stable – he’s our assistant coach – and even going after some of the players too.  I think three different journalists came up to me until they figured I wasn’t going to say anything.  Coach is pissed and is calling security as we speak since a lot of these guys won’t leave.”

“I still don’t understand.”  Madison was trying to be patient.  Really, she was, but Alec had yet to answer just
why
the press was here in the first place.  It was only a preseason game; the Gulls were lucky to get written up by the weekly, local Newport Beach paper.  But this was madness.

“It’s Brandon,” Alec said.  “The police showed up at his house this morning for questioning.”

“They arrested him?”  Madison was surprised.  What possible evidence could the police have on Brandon Thorpe?

“No, just took him in for questioning,” Alec repeated.  “But a couple of people from the media were hanging out in front of Brandon’s home and saw the cops come up.  It wasn’t long before the story broke on the news, and everyone even associated with the team was swarmed with microphones in their faces wanting to know what we think about Brandon as a suspect and all that shit.” 

He clenched his jaw.  Madison hadn’t heard him swear before; interestingly enough, it sounded wrong, coming from his mouth.

“Coach wanted to cut the shit, you know?  Basically tell everyone that, yeah, Brandon was brought in for questioning but he wasn’t arrested, and yes, he’d be missing tonight’s game but when he was released from custody, he’d start playing again.  He wanted to convey that we all stood behind Brandon, everyone from the players, to Coach, even to Seraphina Hanson, the owner.  But the media just got out of control.”

“Oh my God,” Madison said.  No wonder Alec looked so tense; it was like he was carrying this load on his shoulders by himself.  For whatever reason, Alec seemed to be taking this personally, as though it was Alec’s fault that Brandon was being questioned.  Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Do you want to grab a drink after the game?”

Again, no flattery, no arrogant retort.
  In fact, Alec looked almost offended at the suggestion.