Change of Heart (16 page)

“Some guys, huh?” I said.

“No wonder Billy attacked him,” Morgan said. “If I had heard him say that, I'd have smacked him one.” I heard a long sigh. “Where are you?” she said. “Can I come over?”

I told her where she could find me.

M

y dad wasn't home when I got upstairs. I tracked him down on his smartphone. He sounded surprised when he found out where I was.

“Did I mess up my schedule again?” he said.

“No. But Mom's working pretty much around the clock, so I thought—”

“It's okay, Robbie. You don't need an excuse to come over. Mi casa es su casa. But I won't be home until late.”

“No problem, Dad. Morgan is coming over. We'll probably rent some movies or something.”

Forty-five minutes later I buzzed in Morgan. She was breathless by the time she reached the third floor.

“You'll never guess who I just saw outside,” she said between gasps. “Nick.”

“I know,” I said. “He lives here.”

Morgan's eyes grew large. She peered around my father's enormous living space. “You mean here?” she said.

“I mean downstairs. My dad gave him back his old apartment.”

Morgan eyed me cautiously. “So does that mean—”

“It means he's living downstairs,” I said. “That's all.”

“So you two aren't—”

I shook my head.

Morgan sighed. She kicked off her shoes, shrugged out of her jacket, and flopped down on one of the two large black leather sofas in my father's living room.

“I called Billy's mom,” she said. “I told her that I want to go and see Billy. Robyn, she got all choked up when I said that. I think she was crying.”

“She knows how Billy feels about you,” I said. “He's miserable in there, Morgan. That's why he asked for that picture of the two of you that I took at New Year's.”

Her face flushed. “And I tore it up.”

“I had another copy at home. I gave him that one. But he knew right away that it wasn't his.”

A little smile played across Morgan's lips. “I sort of signed the back of his copy.”

“So I hear.”

“Do you really think he didn't do it, Robyn?”

“I know he didn't.”

“But the police—”

“The police think they have an open-and-shut case. They've got motive. They've got means. They've got his prints on the murder weapon. They've got him at the scene near the time Sean was killed.”

“I heard your mom is his lawyer. At least that's good.”

“Yeah. But it's not enough. Someone killed Sean, and it wasn't Billy. We have to find out who it was, Morgan. That's the only way Billy is going to be in the clear.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Well, you were pretty close to Sean in the last weeks of his life. What do you know about him?”

“That he was a jerk,” Morgan said bitterly. “Except I didn't find that out until today.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“Well, like Tamara said, he was competitive. His whole family is. You should see the house, Robyn. It's filled with trophies and framed press clippings going all the way back to when Sean and his brothers first started playing. Most of the stuff is Sean's, though. His mother has a scrapbook on him. It's this thick.” She held her thumb and forefinger as far apart as they would go.

“Tamara said that he and Jon were rivals,” I said. “Did Sean ever talk about him?”

“He said Jon was good at what he did.”

“He said he was a good hockey player?”

“He said he was good muscle. But I got the feeling that he didn't respect Jon. He didn't think he was nearly as good a hockey player. Most enforcers aren't seen as star material.” She sighed. “Sean really was good. If you read the clippings, Robyn, especially the recent ones, they all say the same thing—that he could be the next Great One. They say good things about Jon, too, but he doesn't get nearly as much mention as Sean.”

“Well, he's team captain now. Maybe that will help him get noticed.”

“Do you think Jon had anything to do with what happened?”

“I talked to him,” I said. “I asked him where he was that night.”

“And?”

“He said he was walking around downtown. Alone.”

“So, no alibi,” Morgan said. “He's on the team. He had access to the locker room and the equipment. He could have tampered with Sean's helmet.”

“Sean looked everywhere for that helmet before the game,” I said. “Isn't that what Kevin said?”

“He said Sean tore the locker room apart.”

“Do you know where that assistant coach found it?”

“It was jammed under one of the locker-room benches,” Morgan said slowly, as if she were realizing for the first time that something was wrong. “That's what Sean told me. He said he was surprised he didn't see it there himself.”

“Well,” I said, “if Jon was responsible for it going missing in the first place, he must have had an accomplice. If it had been in the locker room before the game, Sean would have found it. And Jon never left the ice once the game started. So that means that someone else must have put Sean's helmet back in the locker room during the game.”

“An accomplice?” Morgan said. “You mean two people are involved in Sean's murder?”

I thought back to the night of the hockey game. I thought about what had happened and what I had heard out in the parking lot when I'd gone back to get my scarf. I remembered something else, too.

“I don't think anyone was trying to kill Sean that night,” I said. “I think someone wanted him out of the game as badly as Jon did—but for a different reason.” I looked at Morgan. “You know what we need to do? We need to talk to someone who knows what goes on in that arena—someone who sees who comes and goes.”

“Wayne,” Morgan said.

“The head janitor?”

She glanced at her watch.

“The arena's still open.”

When we walked up to the front door of the arena, only a few lights were visible from the outside.

“It looks like it's closed. Are you sure Wayne is still here?” I said.

“That's his car,” Morgan said, pointing to a beat-up white Camaro in the parking lot. “If it's here, he's here. And if he's here, the arena is open.”

She led me around to the team entrance and pushed open the door.

“See?” She marched in as if she owned the place and called Wayne's name.

I looked around doubtfully. The place seemed deserted. There was no one on the ice. The stands were empty. The snack counter was dark.

“There's a light on in the players' locker room,” Morgan said. “Maybe he's in there.”

We were about to enter the locker room when someone burst out of it. We both jumped back, startled.

“Colin,” Morgan gasped. “You scared me.”

Colin Sloane looked as surprised as we were. He was carrying a plastic bag and a beat-up hockey stick.

“Morgan,” he said. “What are you doing here?” He looked past Morgan at me and scowled. He was probably even more curious about why I was with her, especially since the last time he'd seen me, Morgan had frozen me out.

“We're looking for Wayne,” Morgan said.

“He's in there.” He gestured to the locker room door. “He found a few things of Sean's lying around. I came over to pick them up.”

Morgan's expression softened. “That must have been tough,” she said. “Are you okay, Colin?”

“Yeah.” But he hadn't looked okay since the funeral. His jaw was set, like he was determined not to display any emotion, but his eyes gave him away. They were slightly unfocused, as if his mind were on what had been or might have been and not on the here and now. “If you want me to, Morgan, I'll wait for you. I'll drive you home.”

Morgan's smile was gentle. “Thanks, Colin. But I'm with Robyn.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. Then she pushed the locker room door open. I followed her inside, where we found Wayne mopping the floor. His weathered faced brightened when he saw Morgan.

“Hi, Wayne,” Morgan said. “You remember my friend Robyn?”

I nodded a hello. Wayne nodded back without taking his eyes off Morgan. Morgan got right to the point.

“Do you remember the day Sean's helmet came off?” she said.

“When someone tampered with it, you mean?” Wayne said.

Morgan nodded. “Did you see anyone go into or come out of the team locker room during the day or that evening before the team showed up?”

“With all the equipment in there, I keep the players' locker room locked before a game.”

“But you're not the only person with a key, are you?” Morgan said.

“Coaches have keys.”

“Does anyone else?” I asked.

Wayne shook his head.

“But I saw Sean unlock that door a couple of times,” Morgan said.

Wayne shuffled uncomfortably. “Sometimes he borrowed the key from the board in my office. But that was okay with me. Sean was a good kid.”

“What board?” I said.

“I have a board with hooks on it where I keep copies of all the keys for this place.” I remembered seeing a board like the one he described the night of the hockey game, when I'd gone back to look for my scarf. “The originals are all right here.” He jangled a ring that must have had fifty different keys attached to it.

“Did anyone besides Sean know about this board?” I said.

“Well, sure. Everyone who knows the arena knows my office and that board. But—”

“Do you always keep your office locked when you're not in it?”

Wayne shuffled uncomfortably again.

“So it's possible that someone could have taken the key from the board and gone into the players' locker room and tampered with Sean's helmet without you knowing it,” I said.

“Everyone who knows the arena knows my office is off-limits,” Wayne said.

I glanced at Morgan.

“Wayne, do you remember if anyone else was in the arena that day?” she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Anyone at all?”

“The place was real quiet,” he said. “Besides the game that night, there was just the little-girl figure skaters after school. I had to prep the ice after they finished. That's it.”

“Those were the only people in the arena before the game?” Morgan said. “Figure skaters?”

“Well, and some of the mothers. Some of them just drop the kids off. Some of them stay to watch.”

Morgan gave me a look. I knew what she was thinking—it was highly unlikely that some junior figure skater's mother would tamper with Sean's hockey helmet.

“That's it?” Morgan said. “Little girls and their mothers?”

“And one dad. And Johnny,” Wayne said.

“Johnny?” I said.

“Johnny Czerny,” Wayne said. “His kid sister is in the figure skating class. His mom works, so he drops his sister off and picks her up. Sometimes he stays and watches.”

“What about that day?”

Wayne's brow furrowed as he pondered the question.

“He stayed.”

So Jon had been at the arena the afternoon before the big game. Well, well.

“Did you see where he was? Was he in the stands watching the whole time?”

“The whole time?” Wayne said. “Well, I can't say. I saw him come in and I saw him and his sister leave together, but I didn't stay for the class. I have work to do around here. If you want to know what Johnny was doing that day, you'll have to ask him yourself.”

I glanced at my watch. It was late.

“He'll be here first thing in the morning for practice,” Wayne said.

“What time is first thing?” I asked.

“Six-thirty.”

I was sorry I'd asked.

“Thanks, Wayne,” Morgan said. She turned to go.

“Did you see anyone go into the locker room during the game that night?” I asked Wayne.