Page 22 of Blood on the Rocks

Chapter 11

The Friday morningsun shined brightly through the windows of her office as Seraphina slid into her 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.

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 Stars, 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 his 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.

The problem was, 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 been 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 that he was 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.

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. 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...

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