Page 72 of Head Over Skates

22

EMILY

Malcolm Chase, the owner of the Toronto Titans, steps into the conference room, dress loafers clicking authoritatively against the polished wood floor. The space is packed with reporters, all talking at once. He sits behind a long table, clears his throat and leans towards the microphone, reading from an iPad.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I have an important update regarding the recent robbery of the Hart Memorial Cup from the Blizzard Dome arena. Early this morning, our office administrator, Nancy Lambert, uncovered the missing trophy in an equipment closet belonging to Mark Walsh, the team's equipment manager."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. He raises his hand for silence before continuing.

"The trophy was found wrapped in towels and hidden underneath some spare goalie gear. Ms. Lambert discovered it when searching for social media props. She immediately notified security and myself. Mr. Walsh was called in for questioning."

A hand shoots up in the sea of reporters. "Was he arrested?" a female voice calls out.

He nods. "Mr. Walsh has been taken into police custody for further investigation. He has been suspended indefinitely from his position with the team, pending the results of the ongoing investigation."

More hands fly up, voices clamoring over each other.

He points to a lanky man in glasses near the front. "This question is for Coach Knight. Did you suspect Mark Walsh before today?"

All eyes turn to Coach Knight, who sits stiffly behind the table next to Nancy and a few other key executives. He’s giving silver fox vibes in his sharp gray suit. He leans forward to speak into the mic. "I was as shocked as anyone to learn of Mark's alleged involvement. He was a trusted member of our staff for many years. My focus now is supporting my team and ensuring this doesn't become a distraction during playoffs."

A female reporter in the front row stands up. “Ms. Lambert. What was going through your mind when you came upon the trophy in Mr. Walsh’s office?”

Nancy, her blond hair in a neat updo, wearing a stylish navy dress, leans into her microphone. “Only a sense of loyalty to our team and all the dedicated people working hard behind the scenes. This situation has rallied us together like never before, and has only proven what our esteemed owner, Malcolm Chase, has instilled in this treasured organization: each staff member is worth their weight in gold. Equality is the Titans’ way.”

She kinda went off subject there, but okay.

“Is there any other evidence that the equipment manager took the trophy?” another reporter asks.

Nancy nods. "Yes, we have reason to believe Mr. Walsh is the one responsible, but we are uncertain if the trophy was taken as part of a prank gone wrong."

"What was the purpose of this supposed prank?"

"Mr. Walsh has not provided a clear explanation," Nancy says smoothly. "However, we believe it was intended as a practical joke that got out of hand. Rest assured, he will be disciplined accordingly."

A prank? This is the first I’ve heard of this. I glance at Owen standing next to me with a questioning look.

"The suits must be trying to protect the club's image," he whispers in my ear. "Making it seem like an innocent prank is better publicity than admitting someone stole your trophy."

“Not a heck of a lot better,” I say.

Reporters start shouting more questions, but Nancy raises a hand. "Please, I know you are all eager for more details. Rest assured, we are cooperating fully with the police. But we do not wish to impede their work by sharing sensitive information at this early stage."

A few reporters shout questions about how this will impact the team's performance next season. Coach Knight shoots them an icy glare.

"We don't dwell on excuses or setbacks. The Titans are winners, through and through. This changes nothing. The Titans will come back stronger than ever. This incident, while regrettable, will only make us more united and determined heading into playoffs. Our eyes are fixed firmly on bringing home the Cup again this year."

The sound of camera shutters clicking echo inside the small press room. Reporters are all shouting their questions at once. One guy going on about aliens, another saying something about a conspiracy.

Malcolm Chase speaks up. "Any accusations of a wider conspiracy within the organization are patently false. This was the isolated action of one misguided individual. Let me be crystal clear: the Titans do NOT tolerate criminal acts fromanyone associated with our club. We hold ourselves to the highest ethical standards at all levels."

I still can’t believe it was Mark all along. He's a bit eccentric, but fundamentally kind underneath his quirks. My spidey senses are tingling. Something about this doesn't sit right. It all feels too tidy. Too staged. I glance over at Owen and can tell from his furrowed brow that he's just as skeptical as I am.

Owen and I linger in the hallway after the press conference ends. "This is such baloney," I whisper angrily. “There's no way Nancy just randomly found the trophy under some equipment. It wasn’t in there that night we snooped around.”

“Are you sure we didn’t overlook it?”

I pause, feeling my cheeks flush at the memory of our heated kiss. “Umm… ninety percent sure. You… were kind of distracting me.”

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