“I’m an odd guy.”
“I’ve figured that out myself.” Quinn rubbed the back of his neck, considering. “Do you know who killed Elvira?”
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to Callisto?”
“No.”
“Do you think she’s still alive and possibly hiding?”
“I honestly have no idea.” Brimstone held his hands palms up and shrugged. “I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. All I can tell you to do is to keep your eyes open. That’s all I can say.”
“That’s all you’re willing to say,” Quinn corrected.
“It’s the same thing.”
No, Quinn internally thought. It’s not even remotely the same thing.
19
Nineteen
Quinn tried to return to the medical team’s report once Brimstone left and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something important. Elvira Storm died from a single slash to her neck, bleeding out in less than two minutes. She would’ve lost consciousness in less than a minute. The only other mark on her body appeared on her left arm, right above the elbow. The doctor couldn’t be sure, but he believed someone had grabbed her there, perhaps to hold her steady or shove her away. There wasn’t enough evidence to support a firm supposition.
Quinn’s eyes blurred as he stared at the report. It wouldn’t change. He knew that. Elvira was dead and they didn’t have a suspect. The video footage showed Elvira walking into the gallery with a group of people, all of them laughing and having a good time. The feeds inside were degraded. Quinn had a computer guy looking at the footage to see if he could brighten it enough to get a good image, but he wasn’t hopeful. Twenty minutes after entering the gallery – which was full of people – Elvira’s cohorts left. They giggled and cavorted, often screeching with delight, and didn’t look upset. Quinn sent men out to question them and confirm his theory, but he was fairly certain Elvira voluntarily remained behind.
Quinn exhaled heavily as he leaned back in his desk chair, something niggling at the back of his brain but escaping serious consideration because he couldn’t quite grasp it. Something was off. Something more than the obvious, that is.
On a whim, Quinn picked up his desk phone and dialed a number. It took several rings for someone to pick up on the other end.
“Fred Delmore.”
“Hey, Fred. It’s Quinn Davenport.”
“Quinn, it’s good to hear your voice.” Fred’s voice boomed as he brightened. “I’m glad it’s you and not a new client. I have enough on my plate right now.”
“Yeah? Well, I need you to run a search for me all the same.”
Fred and Quinn served in the military together, both leaving right around the same time. Fred became a private investigator while Quinn went into security. They remained close and had dinner together on the mainland when their schedules permitted. Because of his business, Fred had access to search programs that Quinn didn’t. That didn’t stop Quinn from asking for a favor every now and then. He had several friends he tapped when situations like this arose, and Fred was up in the rotation.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Fred’s tone shifted from jovial to grouchy. “You know I have my own work to deal with, right?”
“I do, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”
“Fine.” Fred blew out a sigh. “I need to boot up my computer. Give me a second.”
“Sure.”
Quinn could hear Fred shuffling around his office as he switched on his computer and got comfortable. To fill the silence, Fred started asking questions.
“How is your girlfriend?”
“Good,” Quinn replied, smiling when an image of Rowan’s face floated to the forefront of his brain. “She’s good.”
“I still want to meet her,” Fred noted. “We should set up a dinner so I can sweep her off her feet and steal her from you.”
“That sounds fun. Not the sweeping her off her feet part, but the rest. You’ll like her.”
“I’m sure I will.” Fred made a clicking sound with his tongue. “If she managed to snag your attention for more than a few minutes she must be downright magical.”
“She is.”
Fred tapped on his keyboard a few times and then cleared his throat. “I’m ready.”
“I need you to run Alex Masters through your search engine,” Quinn supplied.
“I’m going to need more than that,” Fred noted. “We’re going to get more than one hit on that name.”
“He goes by the alias of Brimstone.”
“Really?”
Quinn could practically see Fred making a face on the other end of the call and smiled. “We have a horror movie awards group on the ship. They all go by aliases for the most part. We also have a dead body and Brimstone just came into my office to warn me to keep an eye on Rowan.”
“I bet you didn’t like that,” Fred muttered. “Did you let him leave with all of his teeth?”
“I considered beating the crap out of him, but there’s something off about the guy,” Quinn explained. “I can’t put my finger on it. He seemed sincere when telling me to watch Rowan, though. I have to think he was really worried about her.”
“And I have to wonder why he would even care about someone else’s girlfriend,” Fred volunteered. “Has he been hitting on her?”
“Flirting but no groping or anything.”
“That’s good … I guess. Okay, here we go. Alex Masters is thirty-one years old and he lives in Los Angeles. He has black hair and brown eyes.”
“That’s him.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
Now that Fred asked the obvious question, Quinn honestly wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Just start reading stuff off. I’m not sure what’s important. Maybe something will stick out.”
“Okay. Let’s see. Alex Masters is single and never been married. He’s an only child, growing up in Washington state. His parents are still alive, although they’ve moved to Arizona. The only thing on his record is a possession charge from about five years ago. He has a few moving violations, too.”
“That’s it?”
“Honestly, the guy doesn’t have much of a footprint – digital or otherwise,” Fred offered. “He seems to be on the up and up.”
“That’s funny, because I was thinking exactly the opposite,” Quinn mused.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that background sounds made up.”
“You think someone planted it? But how?”
“They’re movie people.”
“Yeah, but he would’ve needed a bit more help,” Fred argued.
“I think I know where he got it from, too. Thanks a lot for your help, Fred. I’ll be in touch.”
“Wait … what about dinner?”
“I’ll call you.” Quinn disconnected, his stomach heaving. He needed to make sure the other part of their trio would be around to enjoy dinner before he did anything else.
He had to find Rowan. He didn’t know why he believed she was a target, but he did. No matter what, he had to see her. That was his first – and for now, only – priority.
THE AFTERNOON STORM sprung out of nowhere. One minute the sky was bright and sunny and the next the clouds were already overhead and the thunder was rolling. It wasn’t until huge slashes of lightning split the sky that the guests began squealing and fleeing for cover.
Rowan wasn’t in the mood to go inside. She wasn’t in the mood to stay outside and ruin her equipment either, though. Instead she took refuge under the tiki bar’s roof and worked on her laptop.
Given the heavy rain, the deck was pretty much deserted. The only one around was Demarcus, and he was too busy humming to himself to pay Rowan much mind. At least … that’s what she thought.
“What are you looking at?” Demarcus popped up behind Rowan, causing her to jolt as she scrolled through the photographs she was looking to upload to the purchase portal.
&nbs
p; “You scared the crap out of me,” Rowan complained, pressing her hand to her chest as she fought to regain her breath. “Make a noise next time.”
“I’ve never had anyone complain about me not being loud enough,” Demarcus said, taking the seat next to Rowan so he could watch her work. “You’ve been busy this afternoon, huh?”
Rowan nodded, pressing her lips together as she turned back to her work.
“Are you okay?” Demarcus asked. If he had to guess, Rowan remained on deck because she wanted to be by herself. She was pale enough that he wasn’t comfortable leaving her to her own devices.
“I’m fine,” Rowan replied automatically. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard you found a body this morning.”
“Oh.” Rowan stilled. “Yeah.”
“I also heard it was bad.” Demarcus’ tone was gentle. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“I’m not sure what there is to tell,” Rowan admitted. “She’s dead. It was awful. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” Demarcus held up his hands in a placating manner. “The last thing I want is to upset you.”
“You haven’t upset me.” Rowan forced a smile for her friend’s benefit. “I’m just … edgy. It’s not you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. That’s a lot for anyone to go through.”
“I’m still sorry.” Rowan wearily rubbed her forehead. “I’m kind of sick of this cruise. I know you’ve been here long enough to be sick of all of them, but I was kind of looking forward to this one. Now I just want it to be over.”
“It doesn’t help that it keeps storming every afternoon and evening and forcing the crazy people indoors,” Demarcus noted. “Still … tonight is the awards ceremony. We go to port tomorrow.”
“And we have one woman missing and another dead,” Rowan noted. “I don’t think that’s going to reflect well in our Yelp reviews.”
Demarcus snickered, amused. “There you are. I thought maybe you were losing your sense of humor or something.”
“No, sorry. I’m just … tired. I honestly wish I could spend the day in bed.”
“Alone or with a certain security chief we both know and adore?”
Rowan made an exasperated face. “You and Sally need to knock it off. You’re both putting unnecessary pressure on us. I don’t care what she says, I’m not picking a day to have sex just so you guys can win the pot.”
“I knew she was trying to manipulate things,” Demarcus muttered, wrinkling his nose. “She’s a pain in the butt.”
“I think she’d probably say the same thing about you.”
“And yet I’m the good one.” Demarcus licked his lips as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on the door that led inside. “I don’t suppose you could do me a favor, could you?”
“If it means having sex on your schedule, the answer is no.”
“Not that.” Demarcus playfully flicked her ear. “I was hoping you could watch the bar for a few minutes so I can run inside. I need to grab change from the accounting department and there’s a lull right now. I don’t expect anyone to come out here while the storm is raging.”
“What happens if they do?”
“Then try to help them.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Tell them I’ll be right back.”
Rowan thought about declining but, in truth, a few minutes of solitude sounded nice. “Okay, but I’m not mixing drinks. If someone shows up I’ll tell them you’ll be right back.”
“That will be fine.” Demarcus patted her shoulder as he stood. “I won’t be gone more than a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Rowan watched him go, amusement flitting through her belly. “Tell Sally I said ‘hi’ when you track her down and give her a hard time for trying to get me to help her win the pool.”
“How did you … ?” Demarcus stilled. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I won’t be gone long.”
“I’ll be here.”
Rowan returned to her work, the pounding rain lulling her as she stared at the photos. She’d gone through more than half of them and – so far – the omen hadn’t made an appearance. Elvira’s death was proof that didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it did make Rowan feel better.
Rowan was so focused on her task she didn’t pay much heed to a lone woman ducking under the tiki roof a few minutes later. The woman glanced around, as if searching for something, and then focused on the empty bar.
“Demarcus – he’s the bartender – just ran to the accounting department to get some change,” Rowan supplied, never moving her eyes from her computer screen. “If you take a seat, he’ll wait on you as soon as he gets back.”
“I guess that will be all right.” The woman scraped a chair against the deck as she sat. “According to what they’re saying inside, it’s supposed to storm all afternoon. That’s a bummer considering this is our last full day on the ship.”
“What? Oh.” Rowan reluctantly tore her gaze from the computer, her eyes widening to comical proportions when she got a full gander at the woman sitting at the adjacent table.
The hair was different, jet black instead of blond. The eyes were off, brown instead blue. The body wasn’t the same, a fuller midriff and hips hidden under a muumuu type dress. Rowan had spent so much time staring at the woman’s photos over the last few days, though, she would recognize her anywhere.
“Callisto.”
Instead of panicking and racing into the storm, the woman merely arched an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re the only one who has recognized me. Do you know that? I know I went through the trouble to change my appearance, but it’s not that different. I’m kind of insulted about how easy it’s been.”
“I guess so, huh?” Rowan did her best to keep her breathing even. “You’ve been here the entire time?”
“I booked two rooms when I signed up for the cruise,” Callisto explained. “I had this planned from the beginning. All I had to do to make it happen was disappear from one room and move to another. It was easy.”
“I guess we never considered that. We did consider the fact that you faked your own disappearance in an effort to make sure you got enough votes to win the best actress award.”
“Oh, don’t look at me that way.” Callisto made an exasperated face. “I need that award. It’s going to give me at least another two years as a leading lady. At my age, I don’t have a lot of options.”
“So you faked your own disappearance?”
“I didn’t do anything illegal,” Callisto stressed. “I did what I had to do. I heard people talking about Rebecca Madden and there was a good shot that she could’ve beaten me, which is totally unfair.”
“Why? Rebecca is a good actress, too.”
“She’s really not.” Callisto shook her head as she shifted on the chair. “She did porn. Did you know that? She did porn and then thought she should win an award. It’s sickening.”
“No, what’s sickening is the fact that you blackmailed her over it,” Rowan corrected. “She was a young woman trying to survive after the death of her father. She had no money. She only had one shot at making it. There was no reason to do what you did.”
“I only had one shot, too!” Callisto snapped. “My shot is almost over. She can wait her turn.”
“Like Elvira Storm? She’s dead, by the way. Do you know that?”
“I heard something about it.” Callisto studied her fingernails, blasé. “That’s why I decided to come out of hiding a bit early. I was going to make a grand entrance at the awards ceremony later tonight – you know, enjoy the gasps and applause due to my miraculous return – but I saw you out here by yourself and figured I should take a shot to get some information. People are saying she was murdered.”
“She was … and in a terrible fashion.”
“I bet she faked it just like me,” Callisto lamented. “That would be just like her. I disappear and claimed a lot of the votes for sentimental reasons. She had to one-up me s
o she faked her death. If she steals my award I’m going to totally bop her in the face.” Callisto brandished a fist to let Rowan know she was telling the truth.
“She’s really dead,” Rowan argued. “The medical team confirmed it. I saw her. Someone slashed her throat.”
“Really?” Callisto’s eyes flashed. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it? I wonder who did it.”
“I was just about to ask if you were the guilty party.”
Callisto’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. “Me? Why me?”
“Because it’s been suggested that Elvira either had something on you or wanted to hurt you,” Rowan replied. “We thought maybe you fought her off in self-defense or something.”
“Elvira was barely on my radar,” Callisto explained. “She wasn’t even a has-been. She was a never-was. I didn’t care enough about her to even try and blackmail her.”
Something clicked in Rowan’s head despite the indifferent nature in which Callisto spoke. It was only then that things began to make sense. “But you did blackmail other people, didn’t you? I mean … more than Rebecca, right?”
Callisto snorted. “Of course. How do you think I stayed on top in this business so long? I made it a point to know everyone’s secrets.”
Rowan’s mind flashed to Callisto’s photos in her memory, fixating on the omen. “You were blackmailing someone else and they intended to kill you on the ship. You bought yourself time by going into hiding.” Rowan shakily grabbed her camera from the table and clicked a photo of Callisto before she could argue, holding it in front of her so she could see the image in the small window on the back of the camera. The omen was there.
“Crap,” Rowan muttered, pressing her eyes shut. “You’re still in danger.”
“In danger?” Callisto let loose with a haughty laugh. “The only thing I’m in danger of is stealing the show tonight. Don’t get all dramatic or anything.”
Rowan realized it was too late to run – or call for help, for that matter – when a shadow appeared in the doorway. She sensed trouble before she actually saw it. She felt it before the man joining the party spoke.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re in a lot more danger than you can possibly realize.”
Stormy Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 3) Page 18