Ghostly Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Yes, Dad.” Rowan winked at him, amused. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I can’t help it. You’re my daughter. I’m always going to worry about you.”

  “That’s why we have to figure this out,” Rowan said. “We have so much else going on. We don’t have time for this, too.”

  “Well, focus on that before this.” Paul was firm. “One can wait. The other ... obviously not. The most important thing is your safety.”

  “We just have to figure out what’s going to happen. I’m not sure how to do it, though. There are too many variables.”

  “So, break them down one at a time.”

  “I don’t see how we have another choice.”

  15

  Fifteen

  Jared and Quinn split up the background searches, both sitting at computers in Quinn’s office. They didn’t speak — there was no need really — and the silence was comfortable as they worked, the only sound coming from clicking keyboards.

  “I have something,” Jared said about an hour in.

  Quinn lifted his eyes and waited.

  “That Destiny Stone person Harper and Rowan ran across, her real name is Debbie Simpkins.”

  “Well, we all knew that Destiny wasn’t her real name,” Quinn drawled.

  “Actually, I’ve heard about real people being named Destiny,” Jared countered. “I think it was probably a little too coincidental for a paranormal shop owner to legitimately boast that name, but it’s not unheard of.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Practical.”

  Jared smirked. He enjoyed Quinn’s sarcasm even if he was still getting to know the man. “Debbie Simpkins filed a police report against Mark Brady in 2009.”

  Quinn did the math in his head. “That’s about a decade ago.”

  “After they were out of high school,” Jared agreed. “They would’ve been in their early twenties.”

  “Okay. What was the report for?”

  “Assault.”

  Quinn’s eyes went wide with surprise at the information. “What kind of assault? Is she saying he raped her?”

  “No, it was more of a physical altercation,” Jared replied. “They were both at an outdoor festival in Des Moines. Destiny was selling crystals and other stuff while Mark was giving readings.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure how that leads to assault.”

  “There was some kerfuffle at the festival.” Jared furrowed his brow as he read the report. “Apparently some woman was going to buy some crystals from Destiny and Mark told her the crystals would bring her bad luck if she did, so she changed her mind.

  “Destiny was irritated because that cost her money and she and Brady started sniping at each other across the grounds,” he continued. “It sounds like things escalated, with both sides saying hateful things to each other. Then Brady called her a ‘talentless hack’ and she threw the biggest crystal she had at his head. He caught it and tried to smash it into her head.”

  “That sounds more like an exchange than an assault.”

  “Yeah, well, Brady is a good six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Destiny. The cops probably figured they needed to send a message.”

  “I can see that.” Quinn considered the story. “The girls didn’t mention that. I’m betting Destiny conveniently left that part out of her conversation with them.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know that fighting over a lost sale ten years ago is reason to murder someone today, though.”

  “We don’t know he’s dead,” Quinn reminded him. “In fact, according to the omen on his photo, he’s merely in danger.”

  “You put a lot of stock in these omens. What if the omen is wrong?”

  “It’s not. And I don’t put a lot of stock in the omens. I happen to have faith in Rowan.”

  Jared inhaled through his nose. “I get that,” he said finally. “I have faith in Harper, too. It’s just ... I can’t quite wrap my head around these omens. How do you deal with it?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Believe it or not, you get used to them.”

  “Are you used to them?”

  “Mostly.”

  “And you don’t wish they would go away?”

  Quinn opened his mouth to answer in the negative. It was an automatic response. Then he thought better of it. “I don’t know,” he hedged after some quiet contemplation. “I love her. I wouldn’t change anything about her. I don’t want her to be something she’s not.

  “The thing is, she could be in danger thanks to this situation before it’s all said and done,” he continued. “She could lose her life if I’m not strong enough, or fast enough. Someone could try to take her from me, which I will not allow.

  “So ... I don’t know how I feel about that,” he said. “I want her with me forever. I want her safe. That means we would be better off if she was ‘normal.’” He used the appropriate air quotes. “I wouldn’t change her for anything, though.”

  “I get it.” Jared was sincere. “I feel the same way about Harper. I worry her ability will get her into trouble because she can’t say no to ghosts when they need help, but I don’t want her to change who she is. It’s a slippery slope.”

  “It is,” Quinn agreed.

  They lapsed into silence before turning back to their work. They’d basically said all they could say on the subject. Things were quiet again, the only noise emanating from clacking keys, and they were focused on their work. This time, Quinn was the one who broke the silence.

  “I can’t find any ties between Tasha and Brady, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” he said. “They could’ve crossed paths at various events and there’s simply no record of it.”

  “If we find Brady, we’ll have to ask him,” Jared said dryly.

  “I’m thinking we’re going to find Brady.” Quinn was talking to himself more than Jared. “He’s somewhere on this ship. I’m sure of it.”

  “That means he has to be in a guest room, right?” Jared queried.

  “Yeah. It’s possible for him to be hidden. Guests aren’t required to let housekeeping into their rooms. If they put up the ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs, the maids bypass them. He could be in one of those rooms.”

  “Do they keep a list of people who turn away maid service?”

  Quinn nodded, thoughtful. “They do. That still doesn’t give us the right to enter.”

  “No, but maybe we can run the names and come up with something there.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I found another guest who has clear ties to Brady, by the way. No ties to Tasha, but there’s a Ginger Bozeman who works the circuit as a psychic. From what I can tell, up until seven years ago she was the top psychic and got all the cushy jobs. She lost her prime positioning when a story about her having sex with an underage male surfaced.”

  “Wait ... what?” Jared wrinkled his nose. “She’s a child molester?”

  “The boy in question was seventeen,” Quinn replied. “The incident reportedly happened in California. The age of consent in Iowa is sixteen. The age of consent in California is eighteen. Ginger was twenty-three at the time.”

  “Oh, well ... .” Jared trailed off, unsure how he felt about the situation. “She was six years older than him, which honestly isn’t that much in the grand scheme of things. He wasn’t an adult, though. Was there any coercion in the situation?”

  “It doesn’t look like it,” Quinn replied, his gaze fixed on his screen. “The boy’s name isn’t mentioned because he was a minor. When news came out, Ginger tried to weather the storm, but Brady kept making a big deal about it, said she wasn’t fit to be around families. That put her status as a psychic in jeopardy because she worked a lot of parties.”

  “That’s convenient,” Jared mused. “Do you think he set up the situation?”

  Quinn held his hands out and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. If the kid was underage, Ginger should’ve been held accountable for what she did. There seems to be some confusion in the police files, though.”

  “
And what confusion is that?”

  “She swears up and down she thought he was twenty. The kid said he told her he was underage, but she says that’s not true. I don’t know what to think about it.”

  Jared tugged on his bottom lip. “Do you think it’s possible Brady set her up to fall?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, she would definitely go on the enemies list.”

  “And she’s here on the ship. Apparently she’s trying to make a comeback.”

  “I can see her being pushed to the edge if she realized Brady was here,” Jared said. “I guess that means we need to talk to her.”

  “Or at least watch her room,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah.” Jared turned back to his computer screen and continued reading. He was busy for 10 minutes before he spoke again. “I’ve got another one,” he said. “Potter Granger. He fancies himself a warlock who casts curses for money. He and Brady used to live together in Chicago when Brady made the big move from Des Moines.”

  “Potter Granger?” Quinn was understandably dubious. “As in ... Harry Potter?”

  “I’m guessing so.” Jared was amused despite himself. “I don’t think these people care how stupid their names sound. That’s not really important. It says here that Brady convinced Granger to cover his rent for six months, swearing he had a contract coming in and would pay him back, and then he disappeared in the middle of the night and left Granger on the hook for the rent himself.

  “Granger tried taking Brady to small claims court, won a judgment, and then Brady never made good on paying that judgment,” he continued. “The outstanding total is less than ten grand but ... if Granger was mad enough, there’s always the chance he decided to get his vengeance.”

  “It seems Brady has ties to people all over the place,” Quinn commented. “This world is smaller than I envisioned.”

  “And getting smaller,” Jared said. “I’m almost afraid to see how many more of these people we find.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  QUINN AND JARED IDENTIFIED another two potential suspects by the time they met Rowan, Harper, and Zander outside the dining room. Zander, his skin practically glowing, was regaling the two women with tales of his dashing spa mission when they arrived.

  “And then I told her I would love to hear the story about how Brady slept with the mayor’s daughter in Aspen and then claimed he was up late reading the Bible with her,” he said.

  Quinn and Jared exchanged amused looks.

  “Did she mention the part where she filed assault charges against Brady?” Quinn asked, sidling up to Rowan long enough to press a kiss to her mouth. “Hey, Ro. How is my favorite girl?”

  Amused, Rowan hiked an eyebrow. “If you’re talking about me, I’m fine.”

  “Who else would I be talking about?”

  “I don’t know. You seem ... weird ... though.”

  “We’ve been delving through the sundry history of Mark Brady,” Jared volunteered. “I think we both feel a little dirty after the fact. The guy is ... not good.”

  “How not good?” Harper asked, accepting a hug from Jared.

  “The guy is a complete and total scammer,” Quinn replied. “He’s screwed people over left and right, including Destiny.” He relayed the story they’d uncovered, keeping it brief. When he was done, only Zander looked surprised.

  “Yeah, she failed to mention that to me,” Zander said. “I’m guessing that was on purpose. Apparently I’m not nearly the master spy I thought I was.”

  “That’s okay.” Harper patted his arm. “You don’t need to be a spy. You’re an outstanding accountant ... and sidekick.”

  He scowled. “You know I don’t like it when you call me a sidekick,” Zander complained. “You’re my sidekick. That’s the only way this relationship works. You’re the Velma to my Fred.”

  “I think they were both technically sidekicks,” Jared argued. “Shaggy and Scooby were the leads.”

  Zander snorted. “That’s what they wanted you to think. Fred was the lead.”

  “I always liked Daphne,” Quinn offered helpfully. “She was totally hot.”

  “She was a cartoon character,” Rowan argued.

  “Who looked a lot like you.” Quinn turned thoughtful as he looked her up and down. “I totally think you should dress up like Daphne for Halloween. In fact ... yeah.” He bobbed his head. “You would be smoking hot as Daphne.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to be Fred?”

  “Fred was gay,” Zander interjected. “He can’t be Fred. I’m Fred.”

  “You won’t be here for the annual Halloween cruise,” Quinn pointed out. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to be Fred yet. I just know I want Rowan to be Daphne. It would be like a childhood dream come true.”

  He was so earnest Rowan could do nothing but bark out a laugh. “I’ll consider it. Are you going to tell us what you found?”

  “Yeah, but I figured we should grab our plates first. “We have no less than five suspects on board, and those are only the stories we could track down.”

  “Suspects in Tasha’s death?” Harper asked curiously.

  “Actually, no,” Quinn hedged. “Suspects in Brady’s disappearance. I’m kind of at a standstill on the murder investigation. I don’t even know where to start looking.”

  “Well, that’s not good.”

  They ceased talking about murder and kidnapping as they shuffled through the buffet line, not speaking again until they were settled at an isolated table. There was enough food in front of the hungry quintet to feed a small army.

  “I’m starving,” Zander announced, grabbing a crab leg. “That cucumber water was fortifying — and healed the scurvy — but now I need protein to bolster me.”

  Quinn stilled, his fork clutched in his hand. “What scurvy?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Jared cautioned. “He thinks he had scurvy instead of motion sickness. I can’t have this conversation a second time.”

  Quinn chuckled. “How many similar conversations do you have a week?”

  “At least one a day.”

  “And he’s thankful for them,” Zander said pointedly, practically daring the detective to argue with him. “Every single one of them is a treasured memory that he will hold dear until he finally dies from old age. Of course, I will hold on a full decade after him because I’m just that awesome, so it will be Harper and me treasuring the memories after he passes.”

  Jared made a face. “So, I’m dying before you and Harper? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “You stole my best friend,” Zander reminded him. “I deserve those extra ten years.”

  “Ugh. I can’t have this conversation again either.”

  “Tell us about the suspects you found,” Rowan prodded. “Who are they?”

  Quinn started talking — mostly because it seemed safer than watching Jared and Zander murder each other with sharp glares — and he avoided contact as he laid everything out with a studied efficiency.

  “The final two we found were Dan Johnston and Corwin Palmer,” he started.

  “Corwin can’t be a real name,” Rowan said.

  “I’m guessing not, but I haven’t dug deep enough to dig out a real name,” Quinn said. “They had a falling out with Brady over a show in Nashville. They were supposed to be the opening act but, at the last second, Brady moved another woman into their spot and didn’t tell them until they were supposed to go on stage.”

  “Another woman?” Harper was intrigued. “Is that perhaps a girlfriend or partner?”

  “You know, Jared said you thought like an investigator, and that’s a very good question,” Quinn said to Harper, causing her to beam. “I checked that out myself. The replacement psychic was named Monica Larkspur.”

  “Oh, that’s definitely not a real last name,” Zander intoned. “That’s the fakest of the fake last names.”

  “I think I’ve actually heard that last name before,” Harper countered.

  “Why do you al
ways have to take everyone else’s side?” he complained.

  Harper merely held her hands up and shrugged. “Obviously it’s to torture you.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  Quinn was becoming adept at ignoring Harper’s and Zander’s verbal calisthenics. “Anyway ... Monica was a cute little thing right off the bus from Louisiana when she met Brady. She had the gift — that’s the story he tells anyway — and he decided to act as her mentor.”

  A sick feeling filled the pit in Harper’s stomach. “Please tell me she was legal.”

  “She claimed to be eighteen at the time, but I think that’s unlikely,” Quinn replied. “I’m guessing she was closer to sixteen, but I don’t have confirmation on that. I have a friend of mine on the mainland who works as a private investigator tracking down that information.”

  “So, Brady picked up a naïve teenager and took her under his wing,” Rowan mused. “I’m guessing that there was some hanky-panky going on.”

  “I believe there was both hanky and panky going on,” Quinn agreed. “They toured together for almost a full year. She opened for him. He taught her the tricks of the trade. They were quite the formidable duo.”

  “You’re talking about them in the past tense,” Harper pointed out. “That can’t be good.”

  “Very smart, Harper.” He smirked at the way she tilted her head. “They broke up at a certain point when a job Brady was supposed to get went to her. Suddenly she was the headliner.”

  “And his ego couldn’t take it,” Rowan surmised. “He wanted her subservient to him.”

  “Very good, baby.” Quinn squeezed her knee under the table. “I believe the breakup was ugly. Brady said nasty things about her.”

  “Is she on the ship?” Harper asked.

  Quinn nodded. “She is. She’s also the psychic filling in for Brady this evening because he’s suddenly gone missing.”

  Rowan’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. That’s quite the coincidence.”

  “Isn’t it, though?”

  16

  Sixteen