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

“I don’t remember.” This bastard has an amazingly selective memory. “Maybe. Look, everything I use is all natural. They couldn’t have gotten sick from any of it.”

There are plenty of toxins in nature, but I don’t enlighten him. “Like I said, I’m just trying to identify what they all might have been exposed to. Have you ever known a guest to have an allergic reaction to anything you use in the sub-drop class?”

The idea that our five victims, and who knows how many others, might have taken brick believing they were taking an herbal supplement is horrifying. The only saving grace is that it doesn’t tally with Black saying he was going to relax with a “little pink friend.”

“No, absolutely not,” Merullo says. “Other than the occasional request to use coconut oil rather than almond, I’ve never had a problem. I’m trained. I know what’s safe to use, even on people with allergies.”

“Uh-huh. Do you keep your herbal stuff with the medical supplies or with the spa supplies?”

“The spa supplies. You don’t need a prescription for cod liver oil.”

True, that. “Do you dispense anything else to guests?”

He shrugs. “I’ll be handing out sea-sickness pills when the storm hits today, like everyone else.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Lube. Condoms. I think that’s about it.”

“Anything else you can remember about Black or the other four now that you’ve had some time to look at their pictures?”

“Nope.” He stretches back into the couch again, face relaxing. He thinks I’m wrapping up and he’s gotten away with it.

“Just one more thing.” I turn the laptop, tap up Rod and Sarah McCall’s social media pictures, and turn it back around so he can see the images. “Do you know these guests?”

His jaw knots, but he shakes his head. “They don’t look familiar.”

“Never given either of them a massage? Never had them in class? Never done a scene with them?”

“Not that I remember. Who are they?”

“Rod and Sarah McCall. Ring any bells?”

There’s a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Don’t think so. Why?”

“They did a number of scenes with Bill Black, including one the morning of his death. Can’t place them at all?”

“No, sorry.”

He lifts his hands innocently, but there’s nothing innocent in his eyes.

“Okay.” I rise and hold out my hand. “Thanks for your time.”

He rises and shakes a little warily, but when I gesture towards the door, his shoulders relax. He definitely thinks he’s gotten away with it.

“You’re not going to give me the usual line about calling you if I remember anything else?” Merullo asks, on the way to the door.

No, because I’m sure I’m going to be speaking to him again soon, but it makes me wonder if he’s been investigated before. Or just watched too many CSI programs. “Nope, but if you do, please call the cabin.”

Fuck if I’m giving my number or email to this bastard.

“Okay.” At the door, he stops and offers his hand. “Look, maybe I was a little hard on your sub yesterday. I have to keep control or the class just devolves into high school sex ed, you know? Send her to the spa and I’ll give her half off any treatment.”

No chance am I letting Emily anywhere near this guy. But I’ll keep up appearances for now. I shake and say, “Sure, thanks for the offer.”

He claps me on the shoulder before he leaves, like we’re mates. Bastard.

The next call I make isn’t to Sarah McCall; it’s to Ed Isaak.

“How well do you know the spa manager, Jason Merullo?” I ask, after we exchange quick greetings.

“Not very well. I didn’t hire him. I think I’ve only met him in person at one or two of the company functions. I’ll give the guy points for cost-effectiveness, though. He’s trimmed down the spa services and made the spa profitable, finally.”

But has he made it profitable by focusing the spa’s services or by offering submissive men suffering from sexual dysfunction a solution for a fat price?

“He’s lying through his teeth about his interactions with Black,” I say. “Merullo gave Black seven, ninety-minute massages three weeks ago, but claims he doesn’t remember Black at all. He barely remembers Kam-Magruder, who had four massages and did a scene with him. I haven’t gone through the spa bills for the other three yet, but he’s the common denominator so far, and he’s hiding something.”

“You think he’s hiding the brick?”

“I do. Can you have your people look into his orders from a place called Hidden Emerald Ranch? He evidently orders herbs from them directly for a class he does on sub-drop. What, exactly, is he ordering and how much is he paying for it? Payment would go through your accounts department, right?”

“Probably. Some of the senior officers have company credit cards and can pay for things directly, but I don’t think he’s one of them. I’ll have the accounts department check. What should we look for?”

“Where is Hidden Emerald Ranch for a start? Is it outside the US? Michael told me that you can get Viagra shipped from Canada just by ordering it online. No prescription necessary. What’s Merullo ordering, exactly? How much? How often? Get the weight of the shipments, if you can. That might tell us if the brick is being hidden in the other stuff he’s ordering.”

I hear Isaak scribbling as he makes notes. “While I don’t want to believe one of our own people would do this, Logan, this is excellent work.”

“It’s a start. I need to find the brick.”

“Okay. What do you need?”

“Access to the spa’s storage spaces. I’m assuming they’ll be locked.”

“Yes, they will. I hate to say it, but we’ve had problems with guests helping themselves. All the storage is locked. I’ve arranged an interview with Kofi Palmer, our chief purser, at three. I’ll have him bring you a master key card. It’ll open all the electronic locks on the ship except for guest rooms and the bridge.”

“Thanks. I also spoke to Rod McCall this morning.”

Ed clears his throat. “I thought you were going to hold