Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles by Frost, J (reading eggs books TXT) 📗

with freaking Advil, evidently, so we’re only allowed to dispense four per cabin. No one’s going to give out too much. None of us wants to be responsible for a guest getting hurt.”

I nod. As I said to Ed Isaak, Pink Pearl’s staff seem genuinely caring.

“A guest has been hurt,” I tell him. “Not sure if you’ve been told about it. A guest by the name of Bill Black died of heart failure the night after he left the last cruise. I’m investigating his death.”

Ashton looks genuinely surprised. “No, I didn’t know. Something happened to him on board?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. If you heard about someone aboard, a staff member, distributing, what would you do?”

“Distributing what?”

“A drug. Kind of like Viagra. Maybe something you hadn’t heard of before.”

Ashton gives me the correct reporting procedure, which means he reports it orally to Reyes and also files a written report with Pink Pearl’s head office. I approve of the double-reporting system, if for no other reason than it gives Pink Pearl’s upper management a good chance of hearing about security problems, so long as everyone on the boat isn’t in on it.

I finish up the interview by getting Ashton to tell me some anecdotes about recent security incidents. Nothing stands out as a red flag and the guy seems genuine in his concern for the passengers and his enjoyment of his job.

After I thank him and show him out, I sit and make some notes. After chewing over the interview for a little longer, I open my laptop and fire off an email to Ed Isaak, asking him to set up interviews with the chief purser and the purser for C-deck on Black’s cruise.

* * *

My next interview is with the kitchen manager. Since bringing the brick in and distributing it through the kitchens seems less and less likely, I keep the interview brief. The manager reiterates what Reyes told me about the kitchen staff having minimal contact with guests. He also explains that the cooks don’t know which guest the food they’re preparing is for. Room service orders are numbered sequentially, rather than by room number. The waiter matches the order number to the room number during delivery. The waiter and cook would have to figure out some way around the system to sneak the brick out in room service orders.

While I’m considering the demise of that theory, the manager blathers on about the system causing confusion.

“But it won’t after next year,” he tells me.

“You’re switching systems?” I ask, just to keep him talking while I think.

“No, we’re piloting an automated delivery system. Little robots, just like Amazon.”

I’m not aware of Amazon’s robots, only their drones, which I don’t approve of, either. Automation takes jobs away from human beings. Not a good thing, in my view. And it seems out of keeping with the tone of the cruise. But it’s probably a cost savings.

Since it’s looking ever-less likely that Black got the brick through the kitchens, I wish the manager luck with the robots and wrap up the interview. Having moved through both the security guard and kitchen manager quickly, I’ve got some time before my next interview. I use the time to do a little digging online.

By the time I’ve surfed the social media accounts of Roderick and Sarah McCall of Fresno, California, I’ve got a number of a pictures of them and am pretty sure from the height, build, and hair that it was Rod McCall who went into Black’s cabin on Saturday afternoon. I’m also pretty sure that Ed Isaak’s right and Rod McCall is a professional top going by the name Master Rico. Being a loving and supportive wife, if not very security-conscious, Sarah McCall has liked and commented on several of Master Rico’s pictures on Facebook, including a couple of shibari portraits. Master Rico isn’t just good with the ropes, he’s got a nice eye. Some of the portraits are fine-art quality.

But what really catches my attention is that some of the shibari models are men. Master Rico’s online accounts are vague about his services, understandably, but he clearly tops submissive men. I’m not sure where his wife fits in, but she wasn’t the one topping Black. Rod McCall was.

After checking the time to make sure my next interview isn’t going to knock while I’m in the middle of the call, I dial McCall.

He answers on the first ring. “Rod here.”

Deep, authoritative. Definitely a top.

“Mr. McCall, my name’s James Logan. I’m an investigator for Pink Pearl.”

“The cruise company?” He sounds curious, but not guilty.

“Yes. I’m investigating the death of a guest named Bill Black. Do you have a few minutes to speak with me?”

“Bill’s dead? Goddamn. When did this happen?”

His surprise seems genuine, and there’s no question he knew Black.

“He died the Sunday night after leaving the cruise. Heart failure. Can you tell me how you knew Bill?”

Rod walks me through meeting Black and Olsen during the first formal dinner, hitting it off with Black, and doing a scene with both of them. He doesn’t omit anything I’ve already heard and echoes Olsen’s comments about Black being a willful bottom.

“He needed a firm hand,” Rod says.

“Did Chrisjean provide that firm hand?” I ask.

“Well, I don’t want to speak out of turn, but she let him get away with small impertinences that I’d never let my bottom get away with. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but those little things add up, don’t they?”

“Absolutely.” I agree mostly to keep him talking, but I’m probably old-fashioned in that way, too. “Did you give Bill a firmer hand once Chrisjean left the cruise?”

Rod clears his throat. “Know about that, do you?”

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate how. “How many scenes did you do with Bill after Chrisjean left?”

“Four. Two private scenes. Olympic Games on Saturday; that was public.”

I wait a second, and when he doesn’t say anything more, I prompt, “Two private, one public. That’s three?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t much of a scene but we met up in Bill’s