"What can you tell me about your brother?"

For nearly twenty minutes, Thaddeus and Detective Lauren Sullivan had exchanged tense pleasantries in his hotel room. She watched him with a hawk like gaze while Thaddeus had brewed coffee and picked up and folded the clothes that William left littered around his bed.

"My apologies for the mess."

She snorted. "If you think this is bad, you'd drop dead if you saw my daughter's room."

He'd picked through the assortment of complimentary pods offered by the hotel - espresso, salted caramel, hazelnut - before settling on the one simply labelled "Doughnut Shop Delights" in honor of her profession. As the machine whirred and the room filled with the smell of coffee beans, Thaddeus' mouth watered for the first time in a week. It had been over two days since he'd bothered even to nibble on anything. The hotel waffles that William had spent the last few days gorging himself on had looked as appetizing as freshly poured cement. He'd barely looked at the plate of food that Sid had handed to him at lunch yesterday. Even the brightly colored food stands at the carnival hadn't caught his eye, even as he'd paid for William and Annabelle's dinners.

Now, he wanted to take the styrofoam cup of coffee he was handing the detective and drink it one gulp.

Yes, wanted. For the past few days, his mind had been locked on business. On putting his father and brother in their places, on ripping apart their fragile worldviews and watching them shake like tall grass beneath a harsh wind.

And what a joy it had been! For once he could lay awake at night and not worry about unexpected phone calls or Christmas cards. The memories that had clung to him for years like spiderwebs could finally be brushed off. He could draw back the curtains of his life and stare into a clear, sunny future.

"Thank you," she said. He licked his lips as he watched her bring it to her mouth and take a long gulp.

When Detective Ken Wakefield finally arrived, Thaddeus' own cup was halfway finished brewing.

"Sorry, Sully, I didn't mean to run so damn late. It's nothing but traffic between here and the scene. I swear, this time of year it's like people think all the laws go out the window."

She raised an eyebrow. "Did you write any tickets?"

He gave a throaty laugh. "I ain't adding to my job duties until the commish finally agrees to that raise I've been asking for."

The other detective was a good ten to fifteen years Sullivan's senior, with greying brown hair and green eyes dwarfed beneath a pile of dark bags. He looked Thaddeus over, his expression unreadable. He started another round of pleasantries.

"And you're Mr. Sivana, right?"

"Doctor Sivana," Detective Sullivan corrected him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you practice?"

Thaddeus chuckled. "I'm not that kind of doctor."

"Then what are you?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Oh, I have a few PhD's in psychology, archaeology, physics..." He paused. "And magic."

Detective Sullivan chuckled. "Oh, don't we all?"

"But that's hardly what you came to discuss, is it?"

"Of course not, sir." He gestured absently around the room. "We aren't here to waste your time." He turned, locking eyes with Detective Sullivan. Their faces shifted but neither spoke for a few moments.

Detective Sullivan cleared her throat, standing from the plush seat by the balcony windows that she'd been sitting in for nearly thirty minutes. "We're just here to ask you about an incident." She pulled a small black box from her front pocket. "You don't mind if we record this, do you?"

"Have at it." He furrowed his brow. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

The real question should have been what hadn't. With his newfound calm had come a renewed anger. Had what he'd done been enough to repay his family for years of misery? Had his father and brother felt even a fraction of the pain that clung to him? There were just so many ways that things could have gone deliciously different. Could he really have expected what transpired the night before to be enough?

Not that it mattered, Thaddeus reminded himself. Bodog and Sidney Sivana were now nothing more than fading memories on this world.

"Well," Detective Wakefield said, "we can't go into the full details yet. I find it silly myself after what happened, but that's protocol for you."

"Let's cut to the chase," Detective Sullivan added. She folded her hands together. "What can you tell me about your brother?"

After a few moments of simply staring at her, she repeated her question.

"My brother isn't always easy to get along with." He took a sip of his coffee. It took a moment for his tongue to register the taste of caramel. "I was thinking of skipping Christmas with him and my father this year just to avoid the headache." He looked away from them. "Did something happen to them? Was he drinking?"

That caught their attention.

"Does your brother have issues with alcohol?" Detective Wakefield asked.

"Oh, I thought you all would have known already. I thought your type kept meticulous records." He shook his head. "I just can't imagine the incident twelve years back getting purged from his record."

"If you're referring to his last DUI, that was actually thirteen years ago." Detective Sullivan shook her head. "Did you read about it, Ken?"

"I called in Smith over the radio and had her read me the details." He locked eyes with Thaddeus. "Were you around when it happened?"

"Not at all! You see, my son and I live in California. If it weren't for the news eating it up, my father or brother might never have mentioned it to me." And what a delight it had been! He'd had all of the talking heads recorded just so he could watch them slam Sid again and again. For a while it had seemed as if karma or magic or whatever forces pulled the universe's strings had finally caught up to him. What had Sidney been thinking? Nothing, probably. Even when sober the man had a brain the size of a chestnut.

For months he'd followed the lawsuit, checking the news religiously. His brother had been shipped off to rehab and his father hired men to keep reporters away. Thaddeus himself had spent his evenings dreaming of lawsuits and criminal convictions.

Oh, but how cruel the universe was! His father had money and knew damn well how to use it. All of the serious charges had been dropped, the lawsuit forgotten once the victims' families had been handed a fat enough check. His father's lawyers had even convinced them to sign a contract agreeing not to discuss it or pursue legal action again further down the line.

The news media forgot the victims even quicker than it did the perpetrator. Sid sobered up and continued life as usual. Life moved on. Sivana Industries stocks initially plummeted, but had risen back to normal less than two years after all was said and done. His father had left retirement to take the CEO reins back from Sid. Some four years after and his brother was again a member of the board of directors. Even the tabloids stopped following him.

"So you were never part of the case?" Detective Sullivan asked.

"Oh, I got a call from my father requesting that I be a character witness. What a sad business that was... I assume you already know what I told him." He steeled his shoulders. "So was he drinking again?"

Thaddeus had to keep himself from laughing. Having the sins around had made everything so much easier. With them, people had a way of... It was hard to describe just what happened or how the sins did it, but people were so much more pliable for him now. Airline attendants ignored him, people looked away from the bandages around his eye, even the hotel staff had quickly changed the booking someone had on Annabelle's room and given it to him completely free.

And right then he didn't even need the sins! It was as if his decades of waiting had finally paid off. Things were looking up.

"No one has any idea. Frankly, we don't have enough details to tell you if alcohol is involved." Detective Wakefield absently rubbed at his arm.

They were silent for almost thirty seconds. Thaddeus finished his coffee, crumpled up the cup, and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

"Tell us about your father." Detective Wakefield broke the silence.

"He is..." Thaddeus sighed. "He's quite a man. I can only imagine how he reacted to Sidney's little incident. My father has his own history with car accidents."

"In general," Detective Sullivan clarified. "What was he like?"

"Oh, my father is hard to get along with. I blame it on his parents - Hungarian immigrants. My grandparents were never the touchy-feely type." He shrugged. "But while my father struggles to give affection, I greatly respect him. He fought for his fortune and respect in the world, even before his accident. We've had our own disagreements, but I'll always admire him." He bit his lip. "Has something happened to him?"

Again there was silence. Not even the vomit-inducing spiel that Thaddeus had just given them could pull their lips apart. What they clearly needed was a little push.

But before the sins could do anything, Detective Wakefield spoke again. "And how do your brother and father get along?"

"Oh, my brother respects my father as well as I do. Anyone who meets him would. But things have been hard lately. Dad is old and stubborn, and refuses to hire help in his old age. Sid does his best to look after him, but it's an uphill battle." He shook his head. "I don't want you to get any ideas. My father isn't the type that you can just throw into some home in Florida. But Sid would love if someone else were around to help him get into the shower and put his pants on."

Again there was silence. Thaddeus looked to the electronic clock on his dresser. Were they going to be here all night?

"The evidence is by no means conclusive, but we believe your brother may have killed your father and set his house on fire to try and hide it." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Detective Sullivan blinked.

"Have you recieved any contact at all from your brother within the last day? We've already got a team looking for him."

The detectives stared at each other. Wakefield had paled, while Sullivan was chewing on her lips.

Oh, what a help those sins were!

Thaddeus fell onto William's bed, the closest one there was to him. "Can you repeat that for me, officers?"

"We... We've already said too much."

"We don't fully know what happened yet. There's really no need to be worried."

"Worried? You just told me my father is dead!"

While both detectives bumbled over their words, Sullivan was able to pull some tissues from her pocket. Thaddeus wiped the tears that had quickly fallen from his eye.

"I can't believe it!"

"We'll call you when we know more." They quickly left the room. Thaddeus watched them and the third, young red-headed officer scurry down the hallway in silence.

Oh, he really could have laughed!

Instead, he went back into his room and began smoothing out the wrinkles in William's bed. Yes, it was turning into a merry little Christmas!


"It's been almost two hours." Billy hadn't been able to bring himself to open the door and peek down the hallway for almost sixty minutes. Whenever he did, the young officer standing outside the door would give him a death glare. "What's taking them?"

"I told you, Billy, I don't know. Don't they always take a million years in cop shows?"

"This is serious!" Billy collapsed against the door. "What if my dad goes to jail?"

Was this why he never discussed his work?

"We've already been over this." Annie stood from her bed, walking over and giving him a hug. "Unless your dad is secretly a drug kingpin, they have no reason to arrest him. It's not like his tacky fashion sense is actually a crime."

Billy didn't respond. What could he say to make her really listen to him? If his dad went to jail, his life was down the tubes. It would be back to foster care for him. But at least that would be more pleasant that being sent to live with his grandfather and uncle. If it came to that, he'd run away and squat in abandoned houses until he turned eighteen.

All of those "what-ifs" had been playing on repeat inside of his head ever since he'd come into Annie's room. He'd tried playing a game on his phone or watching the Peanuts Christmas special on TV, but nothing could stop his brain from running down the path it was on. What was going on? Was his dad okay?

The sudden knock on the door made him utter a very un-manly squeaking noise. He pulled away from Annie and hurriedly opened the door.

"Dad!" Billy wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him with every ounce of strength in his body.

"Uncle Thaddeus!" Annie quickly joined in.

Though his father returned the squeeze, he was the one who broke away from them. He ushered them further into the room, then pulled the door shut behind him.

Billy's throat tightened. His father's one visible eye was red and puffy.

"Dad, are you going to jail?"

He shook his head. "Of course not, William. I don't know where you'd get the idea." He sighed. Raising a hand, he massaged his forehead. "I don't know where to begin to explain this to you kids. I certainly don't want to..."