Free Skating on Thin Ice by Jessica Fletcher

on his chest.
    Alexei let out a stream of Russian I was grateful I didn’t understand, and spat in Jeremy’s direction.
    Devlin abruptly detached himself from his admirers and rushed to intercede. He stepped between them, pushed Christine aside, and grabbed a handful of shirt on each man, hauling them to his side. “If I see another squabble between you two, one of you won’t take another step onto the rink, and I think you know, Hapgood, who that will be. As for you, Alexei, you’re one step closer to getting on an Aeroflot flight home. You’re both jeopardizing something I’ve worked a long time for, and I won’t let it happen. You understand me?” His gaze switched from one to the other.
    “Hey, you broke my necklace,” Alexei complained.
    Devlin relaxed his grip, and the skater’s gold chain slithered to the floor.
    “Fix it and bill me,” his coach said as the Russian knelt to retrieve his jewelry.
    “He better keep his hands to himself,” Jeremy ground out. “He thinks he’s above the law, and he isn’t.”
    “What happened this time?” Devlin asked.
    All four were silent.
    “You want it that way, all right,” Devlin said. He pushed Jeremy Hapgood away. “Find your way home.”
    “Why me? How am I supposed to get there? I drove here with you.”
    “You live in this town. Find someone to take you home. I don’t want to see you at the rink until tomorrow.”
    “I’m on duty this afternoon, and we’re supposed to rehearse tonight.”
    “Someone else will take your place. I’ll tell Mark you’ll rehearse tomorrow. Get out of here.”
    Jeremy shook himself and picked up his jacket. “Come on, Marisa. We’re outta here.”
    “She stays,” Devlin said, glaring at the younger man, daring him to contradict what he’d said. “You’re on thin ice, Hapgood, no pun intended.”
    “Go on, Jer,” Marisa said. “I’ll call you later.”
    As Jeremy punched one arm into his jacket and stomped out of the store, Alexei slipped his hand into his pocket and then put something on a nearby shelf.
    Devlin turned to Christine. “I want to know what happened, and I want to hear about it now.”
    She looked down at the floor and mumbled something.
    Marisa jumped in. “It wasn’t anything, Mr. Devlin,” she said. “Alexei just bumped into me accidentally, and Jeremy, he ... he thought it was on purpose. I tried to tell them that it was just a mistake, but they started to fight anyway. It’s all over now.”
    Christine looked at Marisa, who avoided her eyes. She looked up at Alexei. His face was impassive, but he tapped his foot nervously.
    “We’re leaving,” Devlin said. “Marisa, you sit up front with me. Go wait in the car. All of you.”
    Devlin turned. The chamber members were still gathered at the front of the store, silently watching. “My apologies,” he said, walking toward them, “but I think we’d better break this up. You’re welcome to come to the rink and talk with me anytime.”
    “What was that about?” Evelyn asked.
    “A combination of youthful exuberance and too much testosterone,” Devlin replied. “It’s been a while, so I tend to forget how touchy they can be at this age. It explodes and it’s over. They won’t even remember it tomorrow. Thanks again for coming.”
    He walked out.
    I went to the shelf to see what Alexei had placed there. It was a small piece of faux scrimshaw made of resin in the shape of a shark’s tooth. A drawing of Nudd’s Bait & Tackle had been etched on it. The label on the bottom said it was priced at twenty-five dollars. I gazed around. Similar scrimshaw carvings in Nudd’s were displayed in a case against the wall. I took the piece and returned it to its rightful place, wondering all the while what it had been doing in Alexei’s pocket.

Chapter Seven
    “A re you skating again, Mrs. Fletcher?”
    “I thought I would, Lyla. As you said, it’s important to get back on the ice. But I came a bit early to watch the practice. Are those