A. J. Styles had barely walked into the squad room when two people told him that Chief Malenko was looking for him. Styles sighed. As he walked to the elevator that would take him to the fourth floor and the office of the Chief of Police, he silently questioned himself about what he could possibly have done to get called on the carpet in the Chief's office.

By the time he reached the Chief's office, he was positive he hadn't done anything…that bad. So, he smiled at Chief's assistant who silently waved him towards the inner office. Styles knocked once then opened the door. He was surprised to see his partner already sitting across the desk from the Chief of Police.

"Styles. Sit down." Chief Dean Malenko pointed at the empty chair next to John Cena.

As Styles sat down, he exchanged a quick look at Cena who slightly shrugged.

"You've got a new murder investigation," Malenko began. "I know you're working on the Renee Young case, but this is a hot one." He slid a file folder across his desk towards them.

Styles reached for it and opened it to see a photo of a dead body. "Jeez, somebody hated him," he muttered. The deceased had taken at least two shots to the face. There was just enough of an intact face to make him recognizable.

"Mike Mizanin," Malenko continued. "Hot shot real estate agent. When he didn't come home last night, his wife called Mizanin's partner. A John Morrison. He went to the office and found the body. Called it in about 6:30 this morning. Coroner estimates time of death between 9pm last night and 3am this morning. Of course, he admits that's a rough estimate based on a preliminary exam. He'll narrow it down after the autopsy. The victim still had money and credit cards in his wallet and wearing some expensive jewelry so robbery's ruled out."

"What makes this so hot?" Cena asked.

"Mizanin reputedly had business dealings with Hunter Helmsley," Malenko growled. "Alleged leader of The Authority."

"Great," Styles groaned. "We got one murder investigation with a suspect tied to The Bloodline and another murder investigation with the victim tied to The Authority."

"You think The Bloodline put a hit out on Mizanin?" Cena asked.

"What I think is irrelevant," Malenko replied. "It's what can be proven." He gave the two detectives a nod of dismissal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Roman was half-listening to the local morning news as he finished dressing. He was humming under his breath, wondering if he could find the time that day to join Moxley in taking apart the rest of his new motorcycle.

"We have breaking news about a murder that occurred either late last night or early this morning. Real estate agent, Michael Mizanin, was found dead in his office early this morning by his business partner, John Morrison."

Roman spun around and looked at the television mounted on the wall in astonishment.

"The police have provided no information other than Mr. Mizanin was a victim of foul play. We'll stay on this story and update you as we have new information."

Roman switched the television off and grabbed his cell phone to send out a group text. 'Everyone. Library. NOW.' He left his suit jacket on the bed and walked down the hall to find Moxley. He needed to be in on this meeting.

Fifteen minutes later, Roman watched as his cousins entered the library last. Jey closed the library doors and leaned against them. Roman then glanced around the room. Jey. Jimmy. Naomi. Aleister. Zelina. Jericho. Ricochet. Ali. Samoa Joe. Moxley.

"In case you haven't hear the news this morning, Mizanin was murdered last night. His business partner found his body early this morning," Roman explained.

'Good riddance.' Moxley kept his face neutral.

"Given Mizanin's business connections with Helmsley, the cops are going to be looking in our direction." Roman looked at Joe and then at Moxley. "You two had a run in with him just a few days ago. Anybody see that?"

"Seth Rollins saw me shove Miz out the back door of the bookstore," Mox calmly answered. "He never saw Joe." He stared Roman directly in the eyes.

While Roman hoped Seth wouldn't mention anything, he honestly didn't know enough about him to risk everything on it. He slowly nodded. "Anyone else?"

"I took Moxley over to Lin Sane's Sports Center for a hot dog," Joe answered.

Zelina and Naomi exchanged a quick smirk. The men might joke that it was hot dogs that caused Joe to visit the Sports Center so often. They knew better.

"Lin Sane told us Miz was trying to trick her into believing her husband into selling the business to him," Joe continued. "Moxley and I gave her Regal's card and told her to call him to make sure she had legal protection. And I told her to call me if he came back. She never called." He shrugged. "The two of us and Moxley were the only ones to hear that conversation."

"What about her granddaughter?" Jimmy asked.

Naomi silently promised to swat him on the back of his head once they were out of Roman's sight.

Joe shook his head. "I told her to tell Kairi about what Miz was trying to do. But Lin wouldn't have mentioned our conversation."

Roman nodded again. "Okay, be prepared for some additional scrutiny from the cops. Make sure you have Regal's phone number if you're picked up for questioning. You know the drill. Work your contacts to see what information you can get or what rumors are flying around. Otherwise, it's business as usual." As people began to leave, he raised his voice. "Naomi. Zelina. A moment, please."

"Sure, Roman. Be right back." Naomi followed her husband out of the room. A few seconds later, they heard Jimmy yelp, "What was that for?" Then she returned to the library.

Roman managed not to grin. "I need the two of you to do something for me."

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"M & M Realty?" Styles looked at the etching on the front window of the realty company and chuckled. "Sounds like candy."

Cena briefly smiled. "Mizanin & Morrison Realty. Probably thought M & M Realty was a good marketing strategy."

Styles rolled his eyes as they ducked under the yellow tape across the opening of the building. Inside, the CSI crew were busy working. One of them indicated the path through the front office that they'd already processed. "If you're looking for the owner, he's in one of the back offices with an officer."

Cena nodded in silent thanks and led the way towards the hallway. He immediately saw a patrol officer standing guard and motioned him forward. "Has Mr. Morrison said anything?" he quietly asked.

The young officer shook his head. "Nothing besides he got a call from his partner's wife early this morning and came to the office to look for the deceased. Found him and called it in. He's been in his office doing stuff with paperwork."

Cena and Styles exchanged a quick look then walked into the office.

"Mr. Morrison? I'm Detective Cena, and this is Detective Styles," Cena introduced them as both detectives produced their badges.

John Morrison was a handsome man with long dark hair and bright blue eyes that were somewhat reddened. He stood and held out a hand. "Please sit down. I was just…" His hands fluttered a bit. "I was just getting some information that Maryse is going to need." He saw their confused looks. "Mike's wife."

"Can you explain how you came to find Mr. Mizanin?" Cena asked. He saw Styles bring out his notebook.

"Maryse called me about 5:30 this morning." John sat down and leaned back in his chair. "She sounded awful. The first thing I thought was that something was wrong with the baby." He saw a questioning look on Cena's face. "Maryse is six months pregnant. Anyway, she said that Mike hadn't come home at all that night."

"Was that unusual?" Styles asked.

Morrison half-smiled. "Mike cultivated the persona of a player. But he's de…he was devoted to Maryse. Loved her so much. You know how most men are proud to have a beautiful woman on their arm?" When the two detectives nodded, he continued, "Mike was proud to be on her arm. Everything he put into this business…everything he took out of this business was for her. Then for her and their daughter." He caught his breath. "God, Mike'll never even know this new child. They don't even know if it's a boy or girl. They said they wanted to be surprised."

Morrison took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry. Uh…Maryse called. Asked me to go to the office. She thought maybe he'd fallen asleep here. But she couldn't get him on either his cell or office phone. I said of course and came over. I live outside Davenport, so it was maybe close to an hour before I got dressed and got here. The front door was locked although the alarm wasn't on. I called out to Mike and walked back to his office. I said something stupid like 'Maryse is really pissed with you'. Then I saw him…" Morrison looked through the open office door to the one across the hall where CSI investigators were working. Then he shook his head. "That's when I called the police."

"What happens to the business?" Cena asked.

"Mike and I had life insurance policies taken out on each other. Partners' insurance," Morrison explained. "Even though we're partners, Mike worked his clients and I worked mine. We made sure we didn't get into competition with each other. Mike worked commercial clients. I worked residential. We split the industrial accounts. Now…his half will go to Maryse. But, honestly, I'm going to make her an offer to buy her out. She's never been interested in the real estate business, and with a small child…two small children soon I doubt she'd even have the time to learn the business."

"How much was the insurance policy?" Cena asked.

"Each policy was for two million dollars." Morrison saw Styles' look of surprise. "Check it out, detectives. For this size of a business and our generated income, that's not out of line." He indicated a file folder. "I've got the policy here to give to Maryse along with the insurance agent's contact information. I'm going to sign it over to Maryse. She and Mike lived a good lifestyle, and I don't know their financial situation. I know Mike had a life insurance policy with Maryse as the beneficiary, but I don't know for how much. She might need this money, or she might not. But I can keep the business going. She'll also get the benefit of whatever deals Mike had in the works."

"That's awfully generous of you," Cena commented.

"Mike was a hustler, always looking for a deal to work. He could easily rub some people the wrong way," Morrison admitted. "But he always dealt with me fairly and honestly. And a few years ago, I went through some tough times. Six-year relationship went totally sour, and I…drank more than was good for me. Miz carried this business during those months and helped me get through all that. Making sure his wife and children are okay financially is the least I can do."

"We can get the life insurance information from Mrs. Mizanin," Styles advised.

"You might have to wait on that," Morrison grimaced. "When I called Maryse back, the housekeeper answered. She said that Maryse had worried herself so badly that she'd called their obstetrician. He'd just arrived. For all I know, Maryse is in the hospital."

"Do you have the doctor's name?"

"Yeah, I wrote it down when I talked with the housekeeper." Morrison shuffled some papers on his desk. "Uh…Dr. Drake Maverick. His number's here." He handed the paper to Cena.

"If he was working here last night, would he have opened the door to anyone?" Styles asked.

"Whenever Mike worked late, he would order dinner from Truthful Eats. A pickup/delivery place a few blocks away. I didn't look at what was in his office, but you'll probably find a delivery from them." Morrison chuckled. "If it was Monday, he would always order a chicken salad sandwich, side salad with Italian dressing, and a large lemonade."

Styles made a note to check with CSI about that. "So, he would've let them in?"

Morrison nodded. "Just into the front office to take the delivery. Then he would've locked the door and reset the alarm." He frowned. "That's what I don't understand. We both would set the alarm if we were working late. Mike would never have just walked back to his office without setting it."

Cena was running scenarios in his head as to how that could have happened. "Have you been able to determine if anything was taken?"

Morrison shook his head. "The officers who arrived first asked me that. The only thing of value, well besides office equipment, is about $200 in petty cash. Nothing was taken."

"What about other employees?" Styles asked.

"Mickie James, our receptionist. I called her and told her about Mike. Told her not to come in for a few days," Morrison answered. "Miz had two young men that he was mentoring. Teaching them the ins and outs of the business. Curtis Axel and Bo Dallas."

"We'll need their names and contact information. As well as a copy of the partner's insurance policy," Cena requested.

Morrison nodded. He stood and reached for the file folder. "I'll go copy that now and then get you their addresses." As he started to leave the office, one of the CSI agents looked into the office. "Detectives, there are two people here. Say they've got an appointment with the deceased."

Morrison looked startled. "I guess I'll explain." He followed the CSI agent towards the front office.

The two detectives stood to follow. "You'd think the yellow crime scene tape would've been a hint," Styles muttered.

"Good morning, I'm John Morrison. Mike's partner," Morrison introduced himself. "I'm afraid Mike…Mike was murdered last night."

"Jesus!" The tall man swore in a thick Texas accent. He looked around the front office with a mixture of revulsion and curiosity then back at Morrison. He slowly held out his hand. "I'm John Bradshaw Layfield." He indicated the tall muscular man next to him. "This is my associate, Ron Simmons."

Morrison shook hands with both men then turned to the detectives. "Detectives John Cena and A. J. Styles."

"Gentlemen," Layfield politely nodded. Simmons silently nodded as well.

"Mr. Layfield, you just opened the Davenport Star Hotel, correct?" Cena politely asked.

Layfield smiled. "Yes, we did. I was meeting with Mr. Mizanin to discuss some real estate ventures."

"I'm sorry," Morrison apologized. "I'm not familiar with Mike's clients. It'll take me a few days to get the office running again."

"Don't worry about that." Layfield gave Morrison a business card. "Just call me when you get things set to rights."

"How did you know Mr. Mizanin?" Styles asked.

"He was involved in the early purchase of properties where the Star is located," Layfield answered. "I was very pleased with his efforts and naturally thought of doing business with him again." When Styles silently nodded, he looked back at Morrison. "My condolences, Mr. Morrison. Please extend them to Mr. Mizanin's family."

"I will," Morrison nodded. He watched as the two men ducked under the yellow tape then turned to the detectives. "Let me make you a copy of this and get you those addresses."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Absolutely not. I will not have it." Dr. Drake Maverick's voice was more than firm. "Mrs. Mizanin is in absolutely no condition to be questioned. She'd worked herself into a fine state of nerves worrying about her husband and then with the terrible news of her husband's death…I couldn't sedate her because of the baby, but I did manage to calm her down a bit. I won't have you undoing all that."

The short doctor glared up at the two detectives. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have two women in labor. One with triplets!"

"When can we speak with Mrs. Mizanin?" Cena asked.

"Leave your card at the nurse's station," Drake snarked as he turned to walk down the hallway. "I'll call you after I've seen her tomorrow. Triplets, gentlemen! They wait for no one!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I can't believe it," Mickie James dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Mike was a good person. Oh, he could drive you to distraction some days, but all bosses do that."

"What about enemies?" Cena asked.

Mickie half-smiled. "Oh, I'm sure pretty much every realtor in Davenport hated his guts. But that's because Mike went out and looked for properties. He didn't wait for someone to waltz into the office and say they wanted to sell something or buy something. He'd look at what areas had a high turnover of property sales then figure out why. Or what new businesses were moving in. He worked hard at becoming successful."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Cena, Styles. You got a couple of guys waiting for you."

Styles looked across the room, then nudged Cena. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Cena's eyes narrowed, recognizing the men from the personnel files of M & M Realty. "Axel and Dallas."

The two detectives approached the two men who were sitting in chairs along one wall.

"Mr. Axel. Mr. Dallas. Thank you for coming in. We need to speak with both of you," Cena calmly spoke.

Axel stood and helped a sniffling Dallas also stand. "We heard about what happened. And I've got something you need to hear."

Cena nodded. "If you'll come with me. Mr. Dallas, please accompany Detective Styles."

Axel patted Bo on the shoulder. "It's okay."

Bo nodded and straightened his shoulders then followed Styles.

"He's really broken up about this," Axel quietly explained. "Especially after what we heard."

Cena led him to an interrogation room. "What did you hear?" he asked.

Axel pulled out his cell phone and accessed his voice mail.

"Curtis! Wherever you and Dallas are, get to the office now!"

"Mr. Mizanin?" Cena asked, reaching for the cell phone. He noted the time of the call as 10:20pm.

"Yeah," Axel nodded. "I didn't see it until this morning."

"Awfully late to be calling somebody to come to the office," Cena remarked. "And he sounds a little irritated."

"He sounds really mad," Axel corrected him. "I think…he may have found out that Bo and I were leaving."

"Leaving?"

Axel sighed. "Miz was supposed to be mentoring us about the real estate business. We were more…like his flunkies. But if we left Miz and stayed in Davenport, he would've blackballed us for sure. So, I…I snooped in his office when he was out and found contact names of other real estate firms in other cities." He looked down at the floor. "I know that's unethical, but I really didn't have any choice."

"So, you found other employment?" Cena asked. He privately wondered why Axel called the deceased 'Miz'.

Axel nodded. "I start next week in Connecticut. Bo's got a job in Tampa. We were going to tell Miz today. But, from how mad he sounded, I think maybe somebody either in Connecticut or Tampa jumped the gun to confirm our credentials."

"Wouldn't they have done that before you were hired?"

"We'd given them that information, but it always needs to be independently verified," Axel explained. "I guess they should've called the licensing board and maybe they did but wanted another source of confirmation."

"Where were you last night between 9pm and 3am?" Cena asked.

"Bo and I got invited to a party," Axel explained. "Some girls we've been seeing off and on invited us. At the home of their employer. Guy named Val Venus."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It was so loud at the party! Axel couldn't hear his phone, and he didn't see the message until this morning!" Bo tearfully looked at Cena. "Maybe if we'd heard it, we could've been there…stopped it…"

"Or maybe gotten killed yourselves," Styles pointed out. "So, you were going to tell Mr. Mizanin today you're leaving his employ?"

"I knew Miz would be mad," Bo nodded.

"Miz?"

Bo smiled fondly in remembrance. "He said we could call him that."

"Where were you between 9pm last night and 3am this morning?"

"Oh, at a party! A big party! At this guy's house. Some girls we know invited us."

"And the guy's name?" Styles prodded.

"Val Venus."

'Great. Just great', Styles silently groaned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a brief statement to make." Mayor Paul Heyman's expression was sorrowful yet determined. "Davenport has lost one of our most treasured and valued citizens. As you know and have reported, Michael Mizanin was brutally murdered last night in his office. A hard-working decent family man who was a true son of Davenport. Murdered while working to make a living for himself and his family."

Heyman took a deep breath. "We cannot and will not tolerate this within our fair Community! Our citizens must be safe to carry on their legitimate business without fear of violence! The Chief of Police and his men are at this moment diligently investigating this horrendous crime. I have every faith in them that they will bring the perpetrator to justice!"

He paused, allowing the media to snap pictures of his determined expression. 'Should be good for my re-election poster,' he inwardly chuckled.

"But our police force, in whom I have the utmost confidence, can't do this alone. I'm asking my fellow citizens to call the Crime Stoppers Hotline if they have any information or even think you might have some information to help solve this horrible murder. You can remain anonymous, of course. I'm asking the media to publicize the Crime Stoppers Hotline number as you report on this story."

Heyman allowed his face to show more sorrow. "And, please, do not forget the family of Mr. Mizanin. He leaves a grieving pregnant wife, a young daughter, and parents. Keep them in your thoughts and prayers, I beg you, for they have lost so much." He took a deep breath. "I have nothing more for you at this time. Thank you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Stephanie Helmsley glanced at her husband, sitting on the sofa next to her. "All that to get one point across?" she humorously asked.

Hunter's lips twitched in a smile. "But he got it across." He put an arm around his wife and pulled her closer. "He got it across."