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

and MacDonald, to be fabricated. I make several notes.

“On any night, did you have to clean up room service trays or food he’d brought back to his cabin?”

Millek nods. “Thursday. Friday.” He counts them off on his fingers. “Saturday morning.”

Those would be the nights he was aboard without Olsen, except the Saturday night farewell extravaganza, which I know from briefings with the cruise line was a pig roast held on the Lido deck. Since Black mentioned to MacDonald he was looking forward to that meal, it makes sense he would have gone to it, instead of having food delivered to his room.

“Room service or just food he’d brought back from the buffet?” I ask.

“Room service. Tray.” Millek cups his hands like a lid and I nod.

Black had several meals delivered. That’s a route out of the kitchens if there ever was one.

“Was Mr. Black sick at all during the trip? Did you see any vomit? Anything in the bathroom?”

Millek shakes his head. “Good water. No sick.”

I’m not sure if he means that Black stuck to bottled water or that the seas were calm, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ll have Michael double-check with the infirmary staff, but it sounds like Black only showed symptoms once he left the boat.

Millek watches me, anxiety creasing his long, thin face. “Nothing wrong in food,” he says.

“No, I don’t think anything was wrong with the food, either. Did you clean his bathroom? Did you see pill bottles?”

“Clean bathroom two time every day. Orange.” Millek holds his fingers about three inches apart and shakes them, like he’s shaking a bottle of pills.

Lots of prescriptions come in dark orange plastic containers.

“How many bottles?” I ask.

Millek holds up two fingers, then waggles his hand. “Maybe three.”

Not exactly a pharmacy.

“Did you see any pink pills?”

Millek shrugs. “Just bottle.”

In which Black could easily have put the pink pills. Particularly since the color could have distinguished them from the other pills in the bottle.

“Black was travelling with a woman, Chrisjean Olsen. Did you clean her room, too?”

Millek nods. “Left early. Final clean. Lock up.”

“No one went in her room after Ms. Olsen left?”

Millek shakes his head.

“Did you see anyone in Mr. Black’s room with him other than Ms. Olsen?”

Millek nods. He crunches his hands in front of him. I shake my head and he tries again, making bigger motions until I understand his pantomime.

“He had a massage? Was that in his room?”

Millek nods. “Come back later.”

“He told you to come back later because he was having a massage?”

Millek nods.

“Was it just the once?”

Millek shakes his head and holds up three fingers.

“Black had three massages?”

Millek nods and I make notes. I can verify the massages with the Pink Pearl Spa. Although I don’t see a connection between the kitchen staff and a masseuse, any contact between Black and the crew is worth looking into.

“Anyone else you can remember being in Mr. Black’s room?”

Millek shakes his head.

“Thank you, Jan,” I say warmly. “I really appreciate your time. You’ve been a huge help.”

He holds his hands out. “Sorry. Mr. Black nice man.”

I nod. I understand all of the staff feeling bad about Black’s death. “I’ll do my best to find out what killed Mr. Black and make sure it doesn’t hurt any other guest.”

“Hvala vam,” Millek says.

When I stand and hold my hand out to him, he pumps it.

I show Millek out, make a few more notes and then put my notebook and computer in the room safe with a sigh of relief. My interviews for the day are done. I’ve found out a lot, have a skeleton outline of the victim’s movements, and, Dan Reyes aside, I’m pleased with the progress I’m making. Now I can enjoy the rest of the day with my baby doll.

I change into gym clothes, put the things we’ll need for our scene into a duffle, and knock on the connecting door to Emily’s cabin.

She opens the door immediately and grins up at me. “Hi, Daddy.”

I tug on one of her ponytails. “Hey, sweetheart. Ready?”

She nods, bouncing a little in her white running shoes. I doubt she’s that excited about going to the gym, although maybe she’s a secret exercise nut. It’s the scene afterwards that’s got us both keyed up.

I hold her hand as we make our way up to the gym on Deck 9. We talk about the scene as we go. I’ve already given her a framework: a naughty cheerleader is punished for sneaking into the men’s locker room. Emily expands the story as we walk up the ship’s central staircase. Each of her suggestions sparks more in me, and we toss ideas back and forth as we walk. Watching her face light up as we develop the scene, it hits me that this is the key to Emily’s. She’s a writer, so of course she loves a narrative. That’s why she got so excited about my little black book of ideas when I showed it to her during our phone date.

I can act out endless kinky stories with her, if that’s what turns her crank. It sure as hell turns mine.

I stop her on a landing, pull her to the side so we’re not obstructing the stairs and squeeze her tightly.

“What?” she asks, a little breathlessly, looking up into my face.

“I just figured something out, baby doll.”

She grins. “A good thing?”

“A good thing. A naughty thing. A thing that will give you lots and lots of orgasms.”

She vibrates in my arms. “Share it with me, please, Sir?”

“Not a chance, little monkey.” I release her and give her a swat on the ass. “Get moving. Every minute behind schedule the naughty baby falls is a smack on the tits with the black paddle.”

She shrieks and bolts up the last staircase, a streak of black and white in her cute little bike shorts and oversized tee that says, “Come to The Dark Side, We Have Cookies.”

Grinning, I follow her up the stairs, down the corridor, and into the huge gym that overlooks the Lido deck.

Niall’s