"Ese hombre que fue asesinado. El que compró y vendió propiedades. Dos hombres tenían palabras de ira con él antes de que fuera asesinado. En la librería Rollins. La noche que el casino abrió. Habla con el que se llama Samoa Joe. Hable con el que se llama a sí mismo Moxley. Tenían razones para querer a ese hombre muerto. "

Sasha Banks spoke softly but clearly in her mother's native tongue. Then disconnected the call. She handed the burner cell phone to the man sitting next to her on the couch and smiled.

"Perfect." Hunter Helmsley proudly smiled. He took the burner phone and placed it on an end table. It would be dismantled, and its parts deposited in various public trash cans across the city. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. "This should adequately reimburse you for your time away from the studio." Val Venus had chosen Sasha over Rosa Mendes because Sasha had a well-deserved reputation of keeping her mouth shut.

Sasha didn't insult Hunter by opening the envelope. She merely slid it into the small purse at her side and continued to smile.

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"Mr. Moxley! Thanks for coming in!" Alexa Bliss beamed happily at him.

"Someone's going to hand me a bunch of money, I'll show up," Mox teased.

Alexa's head bobbed up and down in agreement then led him down the hallway towards Regal's office.

Mox frowned, noticing how the smaller woman limped. "Pastries already gone?"

Alexa frowned over her shoulder. "No more pastries," she mournfully answered. "But we have some nice healthy bagels."

Mox chuckled under his breath. Alexa made the words 'nice healthy bagels' sound like punishment. "Uh…no thanks."

Alexa nodded in complete agreement. "Yeah, me either," she muttered. She knocked on Regal's door then opened it. "Mr. Moxley is here."

"Come in, come in." Regal stood and shook Mox's hand. "Good of you to come in. We'll get this business settled promptly." He waved a hand towards a chair.

Mox sat in one chair, and Alexa sat in the one next to him.

"The city has transferred the balance of the eight million dollars into the firm's holding account." Regal's fingers moved swiftly across his computer's keyboard. That's $7,920,000."

Mox's head swam at hearing the amount. He suddenly remembered the small boy who'd resorted to stealing food from a convenience store to keep from starving. Now he had more money than he'd ever thought about having. Then he blinked when Regal spoke to him.

"I'll need your banking account number for the transaction."

Mox reached into his jacket pocket and handed Regal a piece of paper. When he'd deposited the original check in the bank, he'd put half of it into a savings account. That was where the rest of the money would go.

"I've set up accounts in all the local banks to facilitate these types of transfers," Regal explained. "Since I had your funds transferred to our account at your bank, the transfer should be nearly instantaneous."

They waited quietly for a few seconds, then Regal beamed. "Done and done." He then glanced over his shoulder in exasperation. "My printer died earlier this morning so I've printed out a copy of the transaction to our main printer. I'll go get it and make a copy of these papers for you to sign." He started to rise but Alexa slowly got to her feet.

"I'll get them," she offered.

Both men watched her limp out of the office.

"That woman can be a little too independent, if you get my meaning," Regal muttered.

"What happened?" Mox asked.

Regal sighed. "Miss Bliss is bound and determined to pay off all her school loans as quickly as possible. I can't fault her for that. However, although she lives in a respectable part of the city in a secured building, every piece of furniture she has is something she cheaply bought at a second-hand store. Which, of course, means the furniture is probably a third or fourth-hand piece of junk. Last night, the chair she was sitting in while eating dinner totally collapsed." Regal shook his head. "She's been flitting around the office all morning because she says it keeps the bruising from hurting as much." He glanced at the closed office door. "As soon as we're done here, I'm sending her home no matter what she says."

"Tell her to stop at the pharmacy and get some bruise cream," Mox suggested.

"Bruise cream? Never heard of that."

Mox shrugged. "Roman's mother probably bought it by the gross when we were kids. Helps a lot."

"I'll tell her to do that," Regal nodded. "Thank you for the suggestion."

Mox shrugged then he also glanced at the closed office door and made a decision. "There's something else I need your help with."

"Of course," Regal smiled. "How can I help you?"

"I want to buy a building," Mox explained. "It's empty and for sale." He met Regal's eyes. "I want to open a business there."

Regal nodded and turned to his computer. After a moment, he asked, "Can you return here at 2pm?" When Mox silently nodded, Regal entered the appointment on his calendar then phoned the receptionist to alert her that his appointment calendar had been updated.

Moxley glanced at the window as he waited. 'But you've got a ton of cash sitting in the bank. With more to come. You can do whatever you want.'

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"Helmsley."

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Helmsley, but I just had a visit from Mr. Morrison." John Bradshaw Layfield leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Morrison came to discuss matters about buying more property for the new hotel but also asked that I pass along some information to you."

"Which is?" Hunter held up one finger to his wife who ruefully shook her head.

"Mr. Morrison did some checking," Layfield reported. "Apparently all the proper permits for the Rollins' businesses were approved, and they violate no zoning ordinances. He also said that Mrs. Mizanin is agreeable to his purchase of her late husband's share of the business. She intends to return to Montreal after the funeral."

"Thank you, Mr. Layfield. Please convey my appreciation to Mr. Morrison." Hunter hung up the suite's phone with a sigh. "Well, good news and bad news. The good news is Miz' wife is going along with everything."

Stephanie shrugged. "She's a pregnant widow with a small child. Of course, she is."

"And she plans on returning to Montreal after the funeral on Friday."

"We have people in Montreal, don't we?" Stephanie asked.

"Of course," Hunter grinned. "I'm sure Trish Stratus would be more than happy to keep a discrete eye on the widow."

Stephanie grimaced at hearing Trish's name but said nothing.

"The bad news is that all the permits are appropriately approved for Rollins' new businesses, and there are no zoning infractions." Hunter shrugged on his suit jacket. "But then, John Rollins was no fool. I didn't expect to find anything there."

Stephanie studied her husband for a moment, then slowly smiled. "It would be a shame if those businesses didn't work out, wouldn't it? After all, so many small businesses just…fail."

Hunter grinned in return. "There's always a Plan B," he admitted.

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Chief of Police Dean Malenko put a paper onto John Cena's desk. "Got a tip on the hotline about the Mizanin murder. Caller spoke in Spanish."

"The man who was killed. The one who bought and sold property. Two men had words of anger with him before he was killed. In the Rollins bookstore. The night the casino opened. Talk to the one named Samoa Joe. Talk with who calls himself Moxley. They had reason to want that man dead." Cena looked at his partner who frowned.

"You got it on tape?" A. J. Styles looked at his boss who nodded. "What did the translator think?"

Malenko smiled. Styles had a knack for asking questions out of the box. "According to the translator, the phrasing is that of someone with Spanish as a first language. However, the translator says the accent is that of someone who was perhaps raised where Spanish was spoken but with English spoken as the first language."

"Anonymous caller?" Cena guessed. "Guess he was really trying to hide his identity."

"She," Malenko corrected. "The caller was a woman."

"How would she know about this?" Cena wondered.

"Maybe she was with Mizanin before he died," Styles suggested.

"The killer was a woman?" Malenko probed.

Styles shrugged. "Mizanin's partner said our victim was devoted to his wife and daughter. Maybe he didn't know as much as he thought he did about our victim." He reached for the paper in Cena's hand and studied it. "Guess we'll be talking with these two guys."

"Let's talk with Rollins first," Cena decided.

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Zelina Vega nudged Naomi Uso. When her friend glanced across the table at her, she nodded out the front window of the coffee shop.

Naomi glanced through the window and saw two cops she recognized as Cena and Styles. The ones investigating the murders of Renee Young and Mike Mizanin.

"Why are they going in there?" Zelina quietly asked as they stood.

"Let's find out." Naomi led the way out of the coffee shop.

"Thank God," Zelina muttered. "If I had to drink one more cup of coffee…"

Naomi grinned. "At least we've done some shopping in the process," she pointed out. Roman had ordered them to keep an eye on Rollins' bookstore just in case the cops got a tip about Samoa Joe and Moxley confronting Miz at the bookstore. They'd browsed and shopped at the boutique stores across the street from the bookstore and spent a lot of time in the coffee shop.

As the two cops entered the bookstore, they saw two men standing at the magazine stall. One held a clipboard and looked over his shoulder when the door closed behind them. "Good morning," he called out. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Cena's eyebrow raised at the Irish lilt in the man's voice. "I'm Detective John Cena, and this is my partner, A. J. Styles. We'd like to speak with Seth Rollins."

"I'm Seth Rollins. This is Finn Balor." Seth stepped forward and examined the badges the two detectives held out for him to view. "What can I do for you?"

"Is there somewhere we could talk in private?" Cena asked.

"Sure." Seth turned to Finn. "Can you get a start on that inventory? I'll help as soon as I can."

"No problem," Finn nodded with a smile.

"My office is back here." Seth led the two detectives down the hall to a room on the right. "Please sit down."

"Do you want the door closed?" Styles asked when Seth sat behind the desk.

"No, it's just Finn and myself here this morning," Seth explained. "I need to hear him in case he needs help with customers. We tend to get a rush around this time of day." All three men could hear Finn greeting someone else in the front of the bookstore.

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"Ladies, how can I help you?" Finn smiled at the two beautiful women who'd just walked into the bookstore.

"I'm looking for something about the Spanish Conquistadors," Zelina smiled. "And about the Dutch East Indies Trading company. Both non-fiction if possible."

"We have a very good selection of books in our historical section," Finn proudly bragged. "I can help you with both."

"Um…do you have a restroom I can use?" Naomi quickly asked.

"Of course," Finn nodded. "Down the hall on the left."

Naomi shoved her shopping bags at Zelina and quickly walked towards the back of the bookstore.

"Is she okay?" Finn asked with concern.

Zelina shrugged. "She said breakfast wasn't sitting well." She impishly grinned and lowered her voice. "She says she's not, but I wonder if it's not morning sickness."

"Oh." Finn blinked twice.

"She has her cell phone and will call me if she needs help," Zelina assured him.

"Of course," Finn nodded. "Now about your books…"

Naomi heard voices coming from the office and leaned against the wall next to the women's restroom. None of the people in the office would be able to see her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Rollins, we received some information regarding the murder of Michael Mizanin that claims he had a confrontation with two men here in your bookstore on Saturday night. Could you tell us anything about that?" Cena watched Seth closely.

"Confrontation? Here?" Seth's dark eyes widened. "Not that I know of. And not that any of my employees mentioned. What kind of a confrontation?"

"That's one thing we're trying to find out," Styles answered. "Did you know Mr. Mizanin?"

"Not really," Seth admitted. "He approached me at my Uncle John's funeral and gave me his business card. I still have it somewhere. He reminded me that we'd gone to school together, but I wouldn't have remembered it if he hadn't brought it up. Anyway, he said that he and my uncle had reached an agreement about selling the bookstore. I told him everything was in probate. He said he understood and asked that I get in touch with him when everything was probated."

"Do you know either Joan Seanoa or Jon Moxley?" Cena asked.

Seth looked thoughtful but slowly shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I don't."

Cena reached into his pocket and pulled out two photos. Laying them on the desk, he asked, "Do you recognize either of these men?"

Seth leaned forward and stared at the photos. Both photos looked like ones taken for a driver's license. He shook his head. "No. Neither of them."

Cena retrieved the photos as Styles leaned back in his chair. "We did some checking. You and Moxley went to high school as well."

Seth chuckled and leaned back. "That's entirely possible. But it was a large high school, Detective. My graduating class had over 300 students." He nodded towards the open door. "My great uncle allowed students to come and study here. Use the books in the reference section. He valued education very highly and saw it as a way to provide a way out of poverty and give kids an opportunity other than crime. I worked in the bookstore from the time I was in middle school and did some tutoring as well when I got into high school. It's possible I met this Moxley guy then. There were a lot of kids in here."

"Where were you Saturday night?" Cena calmly asked.

"Here," Seth answered. "I moved back to the apartment upstairs. No sense in staying in a hotel while everything moved through probate. Saturday night I was here in the office. I had a meeting in a few days with the contractors about the deli and study hall on either side of the bookstore. I needed to familiarize myself with the status of those projects. I was here until about…maybe eleven? I wasn't really paying attention to the time. Then I went upstairs to bed."

"Do you have any idea why someone would phone in a tip like this? Bring you into this investigation?" Styles asked.

"None," Seth firmly answered. "I left Davenport after graduating high school. I'd gotten a scholarship to a college in Missouri. To be honest, I didn't return to Davenport until my Uncle John died."

Styles subtly nodded at Cena who got to his feet.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Rollins." Cena handed him his card. "If you think of anything that could explain this tip, please give us a call."

"Of course." Seth took the card as he also stood.

None of the three men heard the door to the women's restroom gently close.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Naomi slowly counted to thirty before opening the restroom door and walking back down the hallway. She saw Zelina at the counter paying for three books that the young Irishman was putting into a bag.

"Do you mind if we call it a day?" she asked her friend. "I think I need to go home."

"Sure." Zelina smiled at Finn. "Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure," Finn answered. He looked at Naomi. "I hope you feel better."

"Thank you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth sat behind the desk and took several deep breaths. He wondered if his story had been believable. So many times, scenes for his book were written with ease because his subconscious had been working on them without his knowledge. He guessed his subconscious had been working on this as well.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You believe Rollins?" Cena asked as they got into the car.

Styles settled into the passenger seat and scratched his jaw. "Yes and no." When Cena stared at him, he continued, "I believe him about Mizanin. I don't know I believe him about Moxley and Samoa Joe."

Cena slowly nodded in agreement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Zelina and Naomi quickly walked back to the parking garage, Naomi pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

"Roman? You called it. The cops showed up at the bookstore. I overheard the conversation, and Rollins covered for Samoa Joe & Moxley. Denied knowing them. Denied anything happened with Miz on Saturday night. The cops said someone had phoned in a tip about a confrontation between them and Miz on Saturday night at the bookstore." She paused, listening closely. "Okay. We're headed home."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Roman stood up from his desk and went to find both Joe and Mox. They needed to know the cops would looking for them and needed to know why and that Seth Rollins had covered for them. Roman made a mental note to find out why Seth had done that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A half-hour later, Jericho stuck his head into Roman's office. "Two detectives are here. Wanting to talk with Joe and Mox."

Roman nodded and closed a file folder before standing.

"Detectives Cena and Styles." Jericho's voice was neutral in the introduction.

"Gentlemen, I'm Roman Reigns." The three men shook hands carefully sizing each other up.

"We need to speak with Joe Seanoa and Jon Moxley." Styles' voice was a little aggressive, put out that they'd been brought to Reigns rather than to the two men they were looking for.

Roman ignored Styles' tone of voice and glanced at Jericho who shrugged. "Last I saw Joe, he was in the gym. Mox is probably tinkering with his cycle."

Roman nodded. "Please find them and tell them two detectives want to speak with them."

"We'd rather go to them ourselves," Styles interrupted.

"Do you have a warrant?" Roman asked.

"No, we don't," Cena admitted.

"Then you go no further in my home than here," Roman firmly answered. He nodded to Jericho who quietly left the office. "Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"Nothing, thank you," Cena calmly answered as he sat down. After a second's hesitation, Styles also sat.

They remained sitting in silence until both Samoa Joe and Mox entered the office.

"This is Detective Cena and Detective Styles," Roman quietly spoke. "They have no warrant but would like to speak with you about something."

Styles had the uncomfortable suspicion that Reigns was amused by them.

"About what?" Joe calmly asked.

"We can discuss that at the precinct." Cena stood. "If you'd join us."

"Chris!" Roman raised his voice.

Jericho appeared in the doorway.

"Have the Explorer brought around," Roman requested. He then looked at the detectives. "I'll drive them. They can contact their attorneys on the way."

Styles exchanged a look with Cena who could see his partner wasn't happy. He turned to Roman. "We'd be happy to see they're returned when we're done."

"We will be happy to do it this way," Roman countered. "Since you don't have a warrant."

Cena nodded. "As you wish. Second Precinct, Mr. Reigns." He paused, then continued. "We may have some questions for you as well."

Roman silently nodded. When Jericho escorted the detectives out, he looked at Joe and Mox. "Five minutes to change. I'll call Regal."

Both men silently nodded and left.

Roman picked up the phone and dialed a number. "William, sorry to bother you; but I need you to get to the Second Precinct as soon as possible. The cops want to talk with Joe and Mox." He suddenly grinned. "And maybe with me as well."