The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

He leaves me in a little room down the corridor from the bridge. There’s nothing in it but a table and three chairs. He’s left me with my bag and phone. I hope he wouldn’t do that if I were an actual suspect. But since he has, I take the opportunity to text Emily and Ed Isaak.

Ed texts back first.

Damn. I was holding out hope that guests were bringing it aboard. Keep me apprised on next steps.

Emily’s text pings a moment later.

Everything’s okay, Daddy. I’m going to take a shower and write until you get back.

I text her a smiley face, a hand, and a peach emoji. Just to fuck with her head, I add a wolf emoji, so she knows to expect Wolfy-Daddy when I return.

She sends me back a heart-eyed smiley which makes me chuckle.

Reyes returns fifteen minutes later with the captain. When she enters, I stand and shake her hand.

“How did it go, Mr. Logan?” she asks.

“Dog spotted the brick in both solid and liquid form,” I tell her.

“Our security’s solid,” Reyes grunts, leaning against the door like he’s blocking my escape route. Asshole.

“That means guests aren’t bringing it aboard through your check points. So, drones aside, the brick’s been brought onto the ship and is being distributed to the passengers by your staff.”

Reyes goes white under his tan.

“And you need to have a talk with your guys. Ashton took my bag out of my sight for four minutes. That’s the end of any case you could make against a guest for bringing illegal substances on board.”

Blood rushes to Reyes’s face so fast it looks like he’s going to explode. He pushes off the door with a snarl. “My guys know what they’re doing.”

“Gentlemen.” Captain Lopez raises her hand.

Reyes stops in his tracks and moves back, leaning now against the wall, leaving the doorway clear. You’d think he wants me to leave or something.

“Thank you, Mr. Logan,” the captain says. “I’m pleased the drugs aren’t slipping through our front-line security but sorry to hear the alternative. Is there anything you need from me?”

“Would you mind putting both bottles somewhere safe? I don’t want them in my cabin, but we might need to use the samples again, so I don’t want to destroy them yet.”

“No problem. I’ll see that’s done.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need to step up the interviews now. There’s not much hope that my investigation will stay quiet, just so you’re prepared.”

Captain Lopez nods. “Your next interviewees?”

“Security staff.” Starting with Ashton. “Then kitchen staff. Mr. Reyes has suggested a distribution route through the kitchens, so that’s where I’ll concentrate initially.”

At least, that’s where I want Reyes to think I’m concentrating. I’ve been working on an alternative theory. Finding out that Rod McCall might be a professional top, one with a long relationship with the cruise staff, has moved that theory to the top of my list. The first place I’ll actually be concentrating is on staff who were on several cruises with McCall.

“Understood,” Captain Lopez says, and she’s so accommodating I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at being less than forthcoming with her. But her crew cannot keep their fucking mouths shut, and I trust the man standing behind her not nearly as far as I could throw him. “If there’s anything else I can do, please just let me know.”

I make sure Dan Reyes hands the pill and sports drink bottles over to her, before I shake their hands and gather my things to leave.

“One minute,” Reyes growls. “I want to sit in on your interviews with my guys.”

Does he have any idea how that paints him? It’s not as a caring supervisor, at least, not to me.

“Sure,” I say.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Sure?”

“Sure.” I shrug. “Unlike some, I’m not trying to hide anything.”

I leave him red-faced.

* * *

I make a pit stop in my cabin to check my email and shower before joining my little girl. Still no message from Reyes with the staff rotas, but the Pink Pearl IT guys have been busy. They’ve sent me a series of emails with CCTV footage from two other hall cameras, confirmation that the picture from the CCTV footage matches the guest ID photo of Sarah McCall, and all the receipts a forensic accountant’s cold little heart could desire, including Black’s room service and spa bills. I fire back requests for room service and spa bills for the other victims and a list of staff who were on cruises with all five victims plus at least one previous cruise with Rod McCall.

Buried in emails from the IT guys, there’s an email from Eileen Samuels, the helpful Manchester constable, responding to my message about Colin’s threat against Miranda’s baby. Samuels’s response is more detailed than I could have hoped for and she’s included her cell number. After checking the time to make sure I’m not calling her in the middle of the night, I dial it.

She answers on the second ring. “Eileen Samuels.”

“This is James Logan. Thank you for responding to my email.”

“No worries. Any questions?”

“I want to do whatever it takes to have the threat investigated. I understand the Crown Prosecution Service may refuse to bring charges, but I want to proceed as far as I can. You said I could make a statement by Skype?”

“Yes. I’ll forward the emails to my counterpart in Surrey and have them contact you for your statement. They’ll likely bring Mr. Ainsworth-Porter in for questioning. You understand that all they may be able to do is give him a caution?”

“I understand. And this family solicitor you recommended, she’s in Manchester but you think she’s as good as any London solicitor?”

“I do,” Samuels says firmly. “At half the price.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

“Any custody battle is likely to get expensive, but Rona will give it to you straight. If she doesn’t think you can win, she’ll tell you rather than running up a big bill.”

“I appreciate that, too.”

“In