"What the hell's going on around here?" Adam Cole furiously hissed.
Chief of Police Dean Malenko glared at him. "Two prisoners died while in police custody," he icily replied in a low voice. "Anything else is speculation at this point until we get the results of the autopsy. I've ordered the Coroner to make them a priority."
Cole took a deep breath. "Anything on the security cameras?"
"Nothing that helps," Malenko grunted. "Nobody entered either Swagger or Colter's cells during the night. The last person to have contact with them is Officer Heath Slater who delivered their meals yesterday evening. I've sent officers to his house to bring him in."
Cole nodded and leaned against the wall. He waited until a couple of officers walked past them before continuing. "I'm bringing in two investigators to handle the investigation into what happened." He looked almost apologetic. "You know your department can't investigate this."
Malenko grimly nodded. "You'll have our full cooperation."
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"Find anything?" Roman quietly asked.
Mox grunted. "I can tell you where Seth Rollins has lived since graduating college. All apartments or rented houses. Nice middle-class neighborhoods. Does some traveling, mostly touristy stuff. Drove a four-year old car while living in Chicago but sold it about two months ago after it was sideswiped by a drunk driver." He looked at Roman. "Boring."
Roman absently nodded. "I think I've figured out what his source of income is. Found an entry in Dad's journal where John Rollins alternately bragged about what Seth was doing then complaining that he was wasting his education."
"What was he doing?" Mox asked after a few seconds of silence.
Roman grinned. "I'll show you." He led the way out of his office and down the hall to the library. He paused, then went to one bookshelf. "Ah, here they are." He pulled out a book and handed it to Mox who glanced at the title.
"Murder in the Big Easy?" Mox looked up at Roman. "Seth Rollins is Colby Lopez? He's a writer?"
Roman nodded. "Mystery novel. He wrote another one." He handed the second book to Mox.
"Death Comes Easy." Mox shrugged. "Does this stuff make any real money?"
Roman chuckled. "According to what Dad wrote, both books debuted pretty high on the New York Times Best Sellers list. I bet if you checked, you'd find out they've been printed in a lot of languages and gone through several printings." He gave the third book to Mox who carefully balanced it on top of the other two. "This one was made into a television mini-series. I'm sure that brought in a nice chunk of money."
"Deception By Design." He frowned. "Different author name."
Roman nodded. "That book is a spy thriller. Written by Tyler Black. AKA Colby Lopez. AKA Seth Rollins."
"Why the different names?" Mox mused.
Roman shrugged. "Maybe he wanted each type of book to stand on its own." He suddenly grinned. "Wonder what he's writing now?" He clapped Mox on the shoulder and walked out of the library. He refrained from grinning when Mox followed, carrying all three of the books.
"Found out what the connection was between Old Man Rollins & your Dad?" Mox asked as he set the books on one of the side tables.
Roman nodded. "Apparently, Old Man McMahon's organization was starting to get some of the kids in that neighborhood to do small jobs for them. Some of the kids who'd been studying in that bookstore weren't showing up. Rollins went looking for them and got most of them back to studying."
Mox grinned, showing dimples. "Yeah, I don't think too many of us kids ever said 'no' to that man. Vinnie Mac get steamed?"
Roman nodded. "From what Dad wrote, he showed up at the bookstore just as McMahon did. The two of them had words, but McMahon left." He leaned back in his chair. "Because the two of us were in and out of that bookstore, he and Rollins came to an 'agreement' as Dad called it. The Bloodline protected that neighborhood from McMahon and didn't do any business there."
"What did your Dad get in return?"
Roman slid the journal across the desk so Mox could read the entry.
'In return for protection and safety, Roman and Jon have a safe place to study. For whatever reason, their study habits are more productive there than at home. Probably because Rollins rules with an iron fist. In his opinion, I'm not strict enough with them.'
"Rollins thought your Dad wasn't strict enough with us?" Mox exclaimed.
Roman nodded. "Imagine how he dealt with Seth."
Mox snorted. "No wonder he walked around like a ghost. Probably afraid to say much of anything." He flopped down in his chair. "Doesn't explain why Miz wanted that bookstore so badly."
"Hopefully Zelina and Ricochet can find that out," Roman nodded as he closed his father's journal.
Mox slid Roman's laptop across the desk. "Here, you can have this thing back."
Roman chuckled under his breath as Mox's phone rang.
"Moxley. Oh, hi, Alexa." Mox stood and walked out of the office.
Roman's lips twitched as he exited the programs Mox had been running. He couldn't make out what his brother was saying, but the tone of his voice was…interesting.
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"Good news!" Alexa happily said. "We've reached an agreement with the realtor and the building is yours. We can sign the papers here tomorrow."
"That's kinda quick, isn't it?" Mox asked.
"Mr. Moxley, you're paying the full asking price. And you're buying it outright. No financing." Alexa chuckled. "Trust me, the realtor isn't going to want to delay the purchase. That building's been on the market for some time."
"Okay, then," Mox nodded. "I just figured it would take longer. What about a business license and all that stuff?"
"Already expedited," Alexa efficiently answered. "I went ahead and processed the paperwork after your meeting with Mr. Regal. Since you gave me the business name, all that's needed now is for you to sign the paperwork and provide a check for the license fee. Have you set up a business account at your bank yet?"
"Uh…no."
"No problem," Alexa assured him. "We'll do everything in your name now then transfer the assets to your business. Are you available tomorrow morning at 11?"
Mox rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache starting. "Sure. See you then."
"I'll confirm with the realtor," Alexa promised. "See you tomorrow morning."
Hearing Alexa end the call, Mox shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he slowly walked back into Roman's office. "Uh…Roman?"
"Hmmm?" Roman managed to keep a straight face as he studied the laptop monitor.
"I think I need some help." When Roman looked up, Mox rubbed the back of his neck. "I bought a building and gonna start a business."
"Oh?" Roman waved Mox back to the chair he'd been sitting in. "Dare I hope it's what I think it is?"
Mox scowled as he sat down. "I bought the building where Dawson had his business."
Roman widely grinned. "Gonna make more great furniture?" he teased.
"That's the idea. I thought about going to the trade schools and seeing if some of their students would like to work on projects. You know, get some actual hands-on experience." When Roman nodded, he continued, "Alexa…Bliss, you know from Regal's firm…well, the building was empty and for sale. She contacted the realtor, and we close the deal tomorrow in her office at 11. She's already got the business license stuff started and mentioned me having a business bank account so I was wondering if you'd go with me to the bank today and work that out."
"Sure." Roman put a hand on Mox's arm. "And I'm going to say this with brotherly love. Mox…you're going to have to learn to use a computer."
"Why?" Mox eyed Roman's laptop with a wariness more suited to confronting a wild animal than staring at an inanimate object.
"Because, as a business owner, you're going to have to pay taxes," Roman explained. "And, I'm assuming you're going to pay those students unless they're going to be unpaid interns."
Mox scowled. "Of course, I'm going to pay them! They're not going to work for nothing!"
Roman nodded in approval. "Well, then, you're going to have withholding taxes to report…"
"You know, you're doing a damn good job of making a case to stop this whole thing," Mox interrupted. "How much 'brotherly love' are you planning on giving me?"
Roman laughed. "Don't worry. Zelina and Ricochet are great with computers. We'll get them to help set you up." He stood. "C'mon. Let's give them a break from their research and head out. Bank first then get you set up with a laptop and business software." He ignored Mox's grumbling. "Oh, by the way, I had a voice mail from Seth. He's definitely interested in high quality furniture for the study hall." He ignored Mox's groan as well.
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"Yeah."
Cena's eyebrows rose at the growling voice who answered his phone call. "I'd like to speak with Kevin Owens. This is Detective John Cena of the Davenport PD."
There was silence for a few seconds. "I'm Owens. What do you want?"
"Mr. Owens, I'd like a few minutes of your time this afternoon," Cena requested. "Two people people involved in a murder investigation have said they met someone in your club who has provided them with an alibi for their whereabouts at the time of the murder."
"We get a lot of people in Nexus," Owens growled.
"I'm sure," Cena agreed. "I have their pictures, and it will only take a few minutes."
"Be here at 2 this afternoon," Owens said. "Call this number when you get here, and you'll be let in." Then he disconnected the call.
Cena replaced the phone receiver in its cradle and shook his head. "He's obviously not a morning person."
Styles snorted. "Probably didn't leave the club until a couple of hours after closing. When's the meet?"
"Two this afternoon."
Styles leaned back in his chair. "You mind doing it on your own? I'm just starting to make sense of all this. If I stop, I'll never find where I stopped." He opened a drawer in his desk.
"Yeah, no problem," Cena assured him.
"Dammit!" Styles hissed. He slammed the drawer shut and rubbed his forehead.
Cena masked a smile and opened one of his desk drawers. He silently reached into the drawer then set a small bottle of Tylenol on Styles' desk. "I'll get you some water."
"Coffee," Styles grumbled, reaching for the bottle.
"Water's better if you've got a headache."
Styles grunted as Cena walked towards the break room. He made a mental note to stop on the way home and get another bottle of Tylenol. He knew he was going to need it after listening to the forensic accountant in tomorrow morning's meeting.
"Shyster," he grumbled under his breath. "Hell of a name for an accountant."