Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles

by Frost, E J

  “You’re careful not to use anything they might have a reaction to?”

  “Absolutely. There’s no way anyone got sick from a spa treatment, if that’s what you’re saying.”

  Such a defensive bastard.

  “I’m trying to identify things they were all exposed to. Where do you get your oils?”

  “The company’s called Serenity, but I don’t order anything myself. It’s all done through our head office. They place the orders in bulk and the pursers stock each boat. It’s a cost savings. My suggestion.”

  This guy really is all about the money. I feel like I’m the middle of Jerry Maguire.

  “Is there anything you order yourself?”

  He shifts on the couch. It’s a small movement, but it’s there. “Some herbs.” He leans forward and clasps his hands between his knees, trying to look earnest. “I use them in a class I teach on relieving sub-drop.”

  “Yeah? I’ve had issues with that.” I might even be having an issue with it right now. “What do you use?”

  “St. John’s Wort, ginseng, cod liver oil. Basically, herbs that boost mood. Athletes use them after intensive training or a big game to help them even out. Same theory.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I make notes, this time meaningful ones. “Where do you order from?”

  “It’s called Hidden Emerald Ranch. High quality but very competitive prices.”

  I bet this guy dreams in dollar bills. I note the supplier’s name before I say, “You said Kam-Magruder attended a class you gave. Was it the one on sub-drop?”

  He shakes his head. No hesitation. “Cocksucking Class. Same as your sub. Only he took instruction and learned something.”

  I ignore the dig. “Any of these others take the sub-drop class?”

  I point at the pictures of the other three victims.

  “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 off un
til after you’d interviewed the staff?”

  When did I say that?

  “No. I took a look at his social media accounts. He’s definitely the man who went into Black’s cabin on Saturday. I’m pretty sure you’re right about him being a pro top. He knows about the brick.”

  “What? He admitted it?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask him directly. But I need to. I also need to ask him if he knows any of our other victims. I held off because you told me to handle him with kid gloves, but he knows, and we need to pin him down.”

  I hear Ed tapping his pen against something in agitation. “Logan, I respect your methods. You’ve made amazing progress. But I’m not authorizing further contact with Rod McCall. He’s a frequent guest. He recommends other guests to us. He has a visible presence in the lifestyle. We don’t have him locked down with an NDA. He could crucify us in public, and other than your gut feeling that he knows, we’ve got nothing linking him—”

  “Merullo lied about knowing McCall. I don’t know if they’re in it together or if McCall’s just sending submissives to Merullo, but there’s some connection and we need to find out what it is.”

  “No,” Ed says firmly. “Pursue the thing through the spa. I’m fine with that. If you find the brick, that’s all we need to satisfy the insurers. You’ve done your job.”

  I rub my forehead while I try to get a handle on my frustration.

  “Look, if McCall is distributing the brick, or has some other way to get it, then stopping Merullo doesn’t guarantee your guests’ safety.”

  “It’s enough,” Ed insists. “I don’t want you contacting Rod McCall again without my specific authorization.”

  Damn him. “What about Sarah McCall? I’ve got her number at work. I want to pin her down before she has time to talk to her husband and coordinate stories.”

  “No. Stay away from the McCalls for now.”

  I grind my teeth in frustration. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

  Ed’s silent for a minute. I’ve gone too far, but I don’t take it back. He is making a mistake. He hired me for my expertise and now he’s hamstringing my investigation. He’s not the first client to do so, but it still winds me up.

  “Stick with the spa for now. I’ll get our lawyers on it and see if we can get the McCalls to sign an NDA. Then you can question them to your heart’s content.”

  “Right.” It’s not right, but he’s my client and the client is always right. Even when the client is making a stupid mistake. “McCall also mentioned that his scene on Sunday was monitored by a staff member named Rebecca. Do you have more than one Rebecca aboard who would act as a scene monitor?”

  “Just a moment.” I hear him tapping. “Rebecca Harvey. Pro-Domme and fitness instructor. She’s the only Rebecca who would have acted as a scene monitor. Do you want me to set up an interview with her?”

  “No, I’m meeting her for lunch tomorrow, as luck would have it. I’ll ask her if she remembers the scene with Black.”

  I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t. It was weeks ago, and I’m sure she’s monitored dozens of scenes since then, but I’ll ask.

  “Okay. Any other interviews you want me to set up?”

  “Not for now. I’ve got more CCTV footage to watch and bills to go through.” Although I’m probably not going to bother with the room service bills now. I’ll focus on the spa bills.

  “Okay, keep me posted.” Ed blows out a breath. “Logan, I know you don’t agree with me about the approach to the McCalls. Give me a little time and let me see if I can get them tied up with an NDA. Publicity is important. I have the company’s reputation to think about. That goes beyond just this one cruise.”

  “I understand.” And I do, even if I don’t agree with him. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning by ten-thirty with an update and to see where you’re up to with the NDA.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks for working with me, Logan.”

  That’s my job, but I don’t remind him. “No problem. I’ll check email again this afternoon and I’ve got my phone with me at all times.”

  “Thanks.”

  After we say our good byes, I sit and look out the windows at the white-caps. Ashton’s right. There’s a hard squall coming and the staff will be handing out anti-sea-sickness pills before long. Six years, much of it on small, bouncy, gun boats, rid me of any motion sickness I had, but I know from our tender ride back from Cabo that Emily gets sea sick. I’ll have to make sure she wears her sea-bands and if she feels sick, plan something other than edging her for the rest of the day. If she got that angry at me this morning, edging on a rocky tummy will really make her mental.

  I check my phone for the time. Still ten minutes before I need to knock on Emily’s door. But I want to see her now. Being with her will relieve the lingering annoyance of Ed Isaak ring-fencing my investigation. And I want to make sure that she hasn’t gone into a downward spiral after her doubts of this morning. But mostly I just crave her company. Crazy, since I’ve been perfectly fine being alone in the past. Now that I know how spending time with Emily makes me feel, I can’t get enough.

  I pack up my notebook and laptop, put them in the safe, change quickly into a tee and sweats, and knock on the adjoining door.

  14

  Daddy’s early. But I don’t mind. Even after this morning, I’m so excited to see him that I’m up from my desk and racing for the adjoining door before he has it all the way open. He catches me when I jump and wrap my legs around him. He kisses me all over my face and neck, tickling me with his lips, rubbing me with his bristly chin, and nipping me with his teeth. I squeal and giggle and fall even harder for this wonderful man.

  He carries me over to the bed and sits down with me on the edge, continuing to kiss and tickle me. Finally, when he lets me up for a breath, he says, “Looks like I’m back in good books.”

  I really am the worst submissive in the world. How could I have been angry with him? He was just playing with me. And it was only for a half-hour. And he’s promised me mind-blowing orgasms at the end of the day.

  I suck.

  “I’m sorry I got angry. I’ll be much better for the rest of the day. Promise.”

  He nips the end of my nose. “Don’t try to hide what you’re feeling, baby doll. If this afternoon’s scene makes you angry, I want to know. But give it a chance, huh?”

  I nod eagerly. “I will. Promise-promise.”

  “Good girl. How’s the writing going?”

  “Good, Daddy. Maybe another week to finish the book I’m working on now. I’m ahead of deadline on that one, so I’ll be able to do my own editing before I send it to my editor. I like to send her something polished. And I’m really excited about this new story. I’ve fleshed out the outline and written two scenes and it feels really good. Sometimes, when I’m writing, it totally clicks. Right now, that one’s clicking.”

  “Excellent.” He grins at me, a grin that fills his dark eyes with warmth. “Am I still your muse?”

  “Totally my muse. I kinda maybe used the evil edging in what I wrote today. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Kinda maybe, huh?” At my sheepish grin, he kisses the tip of my nose. “I don’t mind at all. Glad I can inspire you, little love.”

  He does inspire me. Even when he makes me angry. He fills me with all the feels and I’m so grateful to him. I throw my arms around his neck.

  He chuckles and kisses me behind my ear, tickling me until I have to wriggle away. “You’re a delight, my girl. Should we get you changed so we’re not late to meet Niall?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” I hop off his lap and run over to my dresser. I pull out my Grendel T-shirt and show it to him. “Can I wear this?”

  “Black?” He squints at the shirt. “Not a fan of my little girl in black.”

  The shirt is black, with just the white eye-streaks and nose dot of Grendel’s mask for relief, but it’s so cool. How can he not like it?

  “Just for the gym? Please-please? You always look all bad, uh, bo
ttomed and you’re wearing black. Can’t we match this once?”

  Logan cracks up. He holds his hand out. I pass him the shirt and wait for him to stop laughing, happy that I’ve made him laugh so hard, even though I’m not sure what tickled him.

  He clears his throat as his laughter subsides and wipes his eyes.

  “Bad-bottomed, huh? That’s not a phrase I’ve had applied to me before.” He snorts through another bout of laughter. “But I like it very much, little girl. And, yes, you can wear it this once. I don’t think I ever read Grendel. This image is familiar, though. I must have seen the covers or something.”

  I take the shirt back from him and slip it over my head. “It’s really good, Daddy. I only have the omnibus now, so it’s not quite like reading the original comics, but it’s still really good. It’s a little dark, though. Can I still keep it?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, little girl, as long as you only read it when I’m with you. Have you restored much of your comic collection?”

  I shake my head. What Maman destroyed is gone. Replacing my comics and books felt like an absurd expense, particularly when I was trying to get back on my feet that first year and Ash was being an ass about the money in our joint accounts. Fortunately, my royalties always went into a separate account, so I had something to live on. Still, I didn’t have extra for things like comics. By the time I did, the sting of their loss had faded.

  “I bought some graphic novels and omnibuses, so I could read my favorite storylines again, but I haven’t tried to replace the individual comics.”

  Logan nods, and as with our discussion about the disastrous orgasm denial, I have the sense that he hears everything I’m not saying.

  “She had her reasons for doing things the way she did, I guess,” I say hesitantly, not even sure why I’m defending Maman. “She changed after Papa left. When I was really young, she was different. I remember her dancing around the house to old jazz songs. She had these Mardi Gras beads and she’d drape them around my neck and dance with me. After Papa left, she stopped dancing. All her light went out. She didn’t want that for me. She said if I’d give Ash another chance, if I really tried to make it work, I’d see we could be happy again. My light didn’t have to go out.” I shrug and twist my hands together in the soft, black fabric of my shirt. “Thing is, I don’t think I could have come back from it, no matter how hard I tried. If Ash had stayed late at work, or gone out for a night with the boys, I’d have wondered. It would have eaten at me. I know that sounds really bad. Like I can’t forgive. I’ve known couples who have come back from cheating, but that’s just not me.”