The following evening, Tristan and Silver took their investigation to Brimley’s Rollertime, the skating arena Kiyoshi patronized on the night of the attack. The Brimley’s were extremely wealthy. They owned much of Lakeshire, including the tenements were Kiyoshi lived, as well as the abandoned, wooden millhouse, and the new, stone millhouse built on the opposite side of the lake for which Lakeshire was named.

The rink, an enormous, hard maple wood floor, was surrounded on two sides by a lavish, gaudy, red and gold, carpeted parlor. At the front and center of the rink was a bandstand, upon which a brass band played lively tunes.

Before setting about any serious inquiry, the detectives hoped to blend in and observe, thinking it possible that the Lakeshire Strangler picked up his other victims here as well, and perchance they could deduce which of the skaters or employees it could possibly be. The other angle, being perhaps it was a hate crime, and the gang of misfits terrorizing fags could be spotted here or on the grounds thereabouts. Finally, they hoped to interview those of Kiyoshi’s age, who might remember him from that night, and perhaps remember anyone who was giving him special attention.

The rental-station attendant, who was cleaning and repairing a pair of skates, stopped to scrutinize Tristan and Silver as they approached the counter. He looked to be about the same age as Tristan, in his late twenties to early thirties. He was strikingly handsome, with unkempt bronze hair and dark, intense, wolf-like eyes. He had a tattoo of a red dragon on his left bicep. He was sleek and muscular, and much taller than Tristan. Tristan couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when Silver licked her lips before speaking to him. She told him her shoe size, and he quickly selected a plain brown pair from the rack without giving Silver a second glance.

The attendant simpered when Tristan gave him his shoe size. He turned around and took his time as he scanned the rental selection to pick out a pair of skates. There were skates of all styles and colors for him to choose from, from simple metal plates on wheels, which one strapped to one’s own shoes, to those that were essentially shoes on wheels. Tristan was handed a brand new pair of skates, which were ankle-high boots made of maroon leather embossed with a vine pattern, fastened by brass buckles, and trimmed in black fur, more befitting a cinaedus than Tristan would have chosen for himself.

When Tristan pulled out his coin purse to pay for the rentals, the attendant smiled coyly and said, “It’s on the house.”

Tristan said, “You’ll get in trouble. I couldn’t possibly accept.”

The attendant said, “I’m Ed Brimley, as in Brimley’s Rollertime. My father owns this place. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, thank you, Ed, but I really can’t accept.”

The attendant seemed hurt by the rejection of his generosity, and a pout settled on his face as he took the copper coins from Tristan.

“Wow, looks like somebody’s got a crush on you,” Silver teased as the twosome made their way over to a velvet couch. They put on their skates and joined the multitude already on the rink.

The lighting was lowered to nearly dark, so Tristan didn’t need his goggles. Silver delighted in any opportunity to gaze into his strange, beautiful eyes. The rink was lit by assorted-size balls of glowing amber, which dangled on varying lengths of chain from the fragmented, mirrored ceiling, and reflected dancing lights onto the floor below.

Tristan took Silver’s hand, and they whizzed around the rink, enchanted by the romantic atmosphere. After their fun, and observing no one particularly peculiar, they set about questioning attendants and attendees, showing them a photo of Kiyoshi from his better days and learning all they could.

The attendant who was working the door remembered that Kiyoshi had left early that night, about two hours before closing, with Dorch. Ed Brimley remembered that two youths were picking on Dorch and Kiyoshi, so he required them to leave the premises.