Fresh Ice Read Free

I was there.”
    “And they had the wrong name on the back.”
    “Yes, Benny, I was there.”
    “And the bobble dude was black!”
    Quinn rubbed his temples. “This is what I get for not giving you a play by play of some sexcapades that never happened? You are a complete jerk.”
    Benny wiped a mirthful tear from his eye. “No, I’m an overweight radio producer who is very, very lonely. And, you’re on in twenty seconds.” Benny pointed to the clock as he closed the studio door and seated himself behind the soundboard.
    Accepting the inevitability of how long the next four hours were going to feel, given his brain-numbed mental state, Quinn put on his headphones, checked the clock, and pulled the microphone close to his mouth. “Hey there all. You’ve got Bruiser and Benny Sports Talk. I’m Quinn Murray, sitting in for Bruiser. And yes, we will continue the discussion about the debacle at the Superbowl a few weeks ago. But, today I want to lead off with hockey. I just got back from a trip up north to see how our AHL affiliate, the Milwaukee Admirals are doing, and I’d love to answer your questions about the Preds chances in the NHL playoffs. Benny, who’s our first caller?”
    ***
    After the show, Quinn headed upstairs and tapped lightly on Serena Shipley Chapman’s office door. He closed his eyes and silently prayed that she wouldn’t hear his knock, wouldn’t be in the office, or wouldn’t want to see him. Then he would go home where he would have a quiet day, alone to recoup from the weekend.
    He could never be that lucky.
    “Come in, Quinn.”
    Hand on the doorknob, Quinn paused to gather himself. Serena Shipley Chapman was a formidable woman. Everyone at the station feared her. Quinn Murray feared her as well, but for far different reasons than everyone else. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t fear losing his job to one of her renowned temper tantrums. She could do something so much worse. “Hello, Serena.”
    “Sit down, Quinn.” Serena didn’t look up from the spreadsheets on her desk.
    Quinn sat in the stiff chair on the opposight side of the desk. Every time he saw Serena, one thing struck him: the woman was beautiful. Tall, fit, well-coifed dark auburn hair all fit together to make an attractive package. No one could accuse Serena Shipley Chapman of being warm, or friendly, but she had an undeniable magnetism.
    Call it the magnetism of power, the aura of complete control.
    “Quinn, how are you?” Serena folded the spreadsheet and sat back in her chair. “How was your vacation?”
    He had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from frowning. You know very well it wasn’t a vacation. “Just fine.”
    “Successful, I assume?”
    Quinn clenched his teeth before answering . “Well, the Admirals stand a good chance of winning the Calder Cup this year. I pointed out a couple of guys who could be nice additions to the Predators next year.”
    “You know full well I could not care less about hockey.” Serena shot him an icy stare. “ What about your other business? Do you have something for me?”
    “No, I don’t.” Quinn hoped Serena didn’t press him for the money he’d been sent to get from Jason. That money he’d put into a hastily purchased sympathy card for Isabella Landry, along with every other form of cash he had in his wallet including, he realized later, a Tennessee Lottery ticket he’d bought the week before. “As you know, Jason is dead.”
    “Yes, I got your text.”
    “So it’s over now. There’s nothing else you can do to him. He’s dead.”
    “How can it be over? Do I have my dream back? Do I have a gold medal?” She pounded her perfectly manicured fist on her desk.
    Quinn took a step back and slouched a little. If I say one word, she might just go ahead and kill me.
    “You saw the casket, but did you see the body? Did you see his face?”
    “No I did not.” Quinn shook his head. “They cremated him.”
    “So you don’t know for sure that he’s