The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “Thanks. I’d really prefer to work with him.”

  “I’ll make sure that happens,” Ed says. “Sorry if there’s been any friction. Dan’s had a rough year.”

  Not an excuse for being an asshole professionally, but I let it go. “Any luck with the mysterious Rod and Sar?”

  I hear Ed shuffle papers. “Rodney and Sarah McCall of Fresno. This is their tenth cruise with us. Silver Star Club members. I won’t tell you to treat them with kid gloves, Logan, but for God’s sake, treat them with kid gloves. These are our core customers.”

  “Got it. Anything else on them?”

  Ed clears his throat again. “There’s, uh, a possibility that Rod’s a pro.”

  “Pro what?”

  “Professional top. We don’t think Sarah is. One of our IT guys was able to verify that she has a full-time job as a dental hygienist. But Rod might be. He’s never listed any profession on his guest questionnaires. And two years ago, we had a complaint from a guest who said Rod suggested that if the other guest wanted sex as part of a scene, he should pay for it. Logan, I can’t emphasize enough how delicate this is.”

  He’s not kidding. I may not agree with it, but sex work, unlike weed, is illegal in California. If Rod McCall offered sex for money on one of Pink Pearl’s boats, they are fucked with a capital F.

  “What came of the complaint?”

  “Nothing. Our head of guest services at the time spoke to Rod. Her report on the incident says he claimed he’d been joking. She comped the guest who complained. It never went any further.”

  “Okay. Kid gloves.”

  “Embryonic baby sheepskin gloves.”

  I should probably laugh at the joke, but I’m feeling too much pressure. “Can you send me pictures of the McCalls? I got a decent head shot of a woman who went into Black’s cabin on Saturday. It’d be great if I could verify that’s Sarah McCall before I ring her.”

  “Is that the one you emailed? I’ll have the IT guys take a look and ping you confirmation. I’m uneasy about sending you pictures of guests who aren’t directly involved. Consumer Privacy Act and all that.”

  I could argue with him. I’ve read a lot of the privacy laws, particularly the European one, because I was worried about how GDPR would impact jobs in England. The privacy laws are designed to stop the sale of personal information, which is not what’s happening here. But there’s no need to argue. Let the IT guys do the grunt work, and if they can’t, or don’t ID the woman, I’ll poke around online to see if Sarah McCall of Fresno has any social media accounts. You can often find more on someone’s Facebook wall than you’d find with a full background check.

  “That’s fine,” I tell him. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to grab the brick from Michael, do a little sightseeing, and head back to the boat. I want to board while your offices are still open in case there’s any trouble with security.”

  “Sounds good. Logan, as much as I hate the thought that this is one of our people, I agree with you. If I could report by the end of the cruise that we’ve identified the distributor and the route onto the ship and have shut it down, that would satisfy the insurers. Otherwise . . .” I can’t see it, but I can almost hear his shrug. “Things are going to get tough.”

  “Understood.”

  More pressure.

  After we say our goodbyes and Ed hangs up, Michael raises an eyebrow at me. “Maybe I need to polish up my resume.”

  “I hope not.” But I can’t really offer him any assurances beyond that.

  “You don’t always get your man?”

  “I’m not Poirot. The most logical assumption is that the distributor tossed my cabin. They didn’t find anything, but they at least suspect what I’m doing. Easiest thing is for them to simply close up shop until I go away.”

  “By which time the insurers may have closed down the cruise.”

  “I’m afraid so.” Pressure, pressure, pressure. I roll my shoulders. I can only do what I can do. “How about this brick?”

  Michael’s done a good job with both the pills, which are in a prescription bottle that has my name on the convincing-looking label, and the liquid brick, which is in a sports drink bottle.

  “Local pharmacy,” Michael says, tapping the pill-bottle label. “Prescription antihistamines. If you’re questioned, your doctor called the prescription down for you to pick up while you were ashore. That’s plausible. For the solution, don’t open the bottle whatever you do. The smell is worse than Saturday night in emergency.”

  I wrinkle my nose and make a mental note to keep the bottle separate from all my other stuff in case of leakage. “Thanks for the warning. Anything else I should know?”

  “Nothing I can think of. Teresa and I are flying back to L.A. tonight. You’ve got my cell. Don’t hesitate to call me if anything comes up.”

  I offer him my hand. “Thanks for everything, Michael.”

  “My pleasure. Shall we go find our ladies before they buy out the town? I know the boutique Teresa will have taken Emily to.”

  “Now that’s a plan.”

  * * *

  Out on the street, the heat wraps me in a humid embrace. Remembering Emily’s Aliens quip has me chuckling as we make our way through the crowded streets towards the Marina.

  “Always this busy?” I ask Michael, as I detour around a pair of sunburned tourists who are blocking the entire sidewalk as they point at beach tat in a shop window.

  He snorts. “This is off-peak. You should see it when the snowbirds are here. And the spring breakers. We’ve stopped running cruises during spring break. It’s too crazy. Impossible to get a spare square inch on the beaches, and it’s wall-to-wall here in town.”

  I don’t usually have an issue with crowds, but between the sun bouncing off the concrete and the sticky heat of other bodies, I’m not just ready for the air-conditioned store, but also to head back to the boat. Even the deep freeze of my cabin is preferable to this heat. It’s also been several hours since I fucked Emily, which my balls are informing me is just too long.

  A blast of cold air at the boutique’s entrance revives me, although not enough to want to actually shop. The sight of my little girl bouncing towards me lifts my spirits even more.

  She grins, eyes alight, as she approaches, and I can’t keep an answering, goofy grin off my face. We’ve been apart less than an hour and I’m ridiculously happy to see her. Everything feels lighter when I’m with my little girl. The worries are still there: finding the brick pusher before Pink Pearl’s insurers shut them down, figuring out what the Hell to do about Miranda and Colin and the baby. But they’re a featherweight instead of a megaton.

  When she reaches me, I run my knuckles down her soft, soft cheek and tap the small paper bag she has tucked under one arm. She immediately tries to shift it behind her, as though that’ll make it disappear.

  “Find something you liked?”

  “It’s a surprise. For you. When we get back to New York.”

  “Is it?” What could she have found for me in this store? It’s not a women’s clothes-type boutique. It’s more artsy, with handmade glass, metal and fabric bits filling the shelves. The only thing I see that I’d actually want are a couple of bottles of Blue Mango craft beer, but the package Emily’s holding is too small to contain beer bottles. Still, I’ll never say “no” to a gift from my baby girl. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  “It’s just a souvenir. I mean, it’s not as nice as this.” She touches the pearl on her collar. “But maybe it will remind you of our trip.”

  “I’m sure it will. I look forward to seeing it when we get home.”

  She goes up on her toes and when I lean in, nuzzles and then kisses me in the spot under my jaw she likes.

  “You ready to brave the heat again while we see the sights?” I ask, sliding my arm around her shoulders.

  She nods but the light in her eyes fades a little.

  “Everything okay, baby doll?”

  She shifts from foot to foot. Everything�
�s not okay, but she’s nervous about telling me.

  “Communication, Emmy. What’s up?”

  “I’m—would it be okay if I said I was kind of Cabo-ed out? Are there things you want to see?”

  Not really. The sightseeing was for her benefit, not mine.

  “Would you like to head back to the boat?”

  “If it would be okay with you,” she says, vibrating with anxiety. This is the flip side of her intense desire to please me. It brings every protective instinct I have roaring to the surface. “I just—I feel like I might have had too much sun.”

  “Never be afraid of telling me when you’ve had too much.” I draw her a little closer and kiss her forehead. “We’ve had a nice day. No reason to spoil it. Let’s say our goodbyes to Michael and Teresa and head back.”

  Her smile floods back up into her eyes.

  After we say a warm farewell to Michael and Teresa, we head over to the Sleepless Lobster to let the irrepressible Mikaela know we’re going back to the boat. She makes a token attempt to convince us to stay with the tour but even she looks a little wilted by the heat.

  It’s only a few blocks from the restaurant to the terminal but my brains feel broiled by the time we reach the terminal’s shade. Emily takes off her sunhat to fan her red face while we wait in the passport control queue.

  “I should have worn a hat,” I admit.

  With a giggle, she fans my face. “I brought another one if you want to borrow it. It has white flowers around the brim. You’d rock it.”

  After checking to make sure no one’s watching, I pinch her cheeky ass. “Try dressing me up, little girl. See what happens to you.”

  Wild giggles that she muffles with a hand over her mouth while still fanning me with her hat.

  Her laughter buoys me through the line and choppy ride back to the ship. The trip leaves Emily slightly green despite the Sea-Bands she’s wearing. I’ll have to keep an eye on that, since I don’t want her holiday spoiled by sea sickness. Once we’re off the tender and waiting in the line for pictures before the security check, I draw her to the side, sorry that I’m going to have to dampen her high spirits.

  “Emmy, I want you to go ahead of me through the line. If anything happens, go back to the cabin. Make sure the doors are locked. Stay there and keep your phone handy. If I can’t come within an hour, I’ll text you.”

  She gives me the big eyes, but they’re worried instead of excited. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl. Everything’ll be fine. Have you thought about a reward before dinner?”

  “I thought I lost my reward and was getting ten from Belphegor?”

  “I don’t take away rewards.” Although I won’t let her watch R-rated movies without permission going forward, I’m not seriously correcting her for watching them before she knew me. “And you’re definitely getting ten from Belphegor, but if you play your cards right, that could be a reward, too.”

  She bounces on her toes.

  I tip my chin and she sidles a few steps ahead of me in the short line through security.

  Emily’s bag goes onto the conveyor belt and into the mouth of the scanner. She walks through the arch and gives her passenger ID to the security guard. He smiles indulgently at her as he scans her card and hands it back to her.

  His smile fades as my bag goes through, and the German shepherd at his feet sits up and whines.

  “Uh, sorry, sir. I’m just going to need a closer look here.” I see him press a button under his little kiosk at the side of the scanner. Summoning reinforcements. I tip my wrist to time how long they take to arrive.

  My wrist is bare. Fuck, I keep forgetting I’ve taken off my damn watch. I take my phone out of my pocket and tap it on, pretending to be bored while I wait for the security guard to finish with my bag.

  The guard moves my bag out of eyeshot to a table closer to the dog. Bad move. Now I can claim the security guard planted whatever he finds in the bag. I’ll need to mention it to Ed Isaak. That’ll make me really popular with Dan Reyes.

  Before the guard even takes the pill bottle out of my bag, the dog’s whining. I’m still holding the sports drink bottle so there’s no question what the dog’s identified. I fiddle some more with my phone. As I glance up, I see Emily lingering near the elevators to the upper decks.

  If I call her on it, she’ll probably claim that she’s waiting for the elevator. But except the times she’s been plugged, I’ve never seen her use the elevators, so I know that’s bullshit; she’s waiting for me. While I appreciate her concern, that’s specifically not what I told her to do.

  I give her a frown before going back to my phone.

  When I glance up again, she’s gone. Good girl. Maybe an additional five from Belphegor will ensure that she obeys orders without a reminder from Daddy in future. That thought makes me smile as I wait.

  At my next glance, Dan Reyes and a uniformed guard are steaming down the corridor towards me. I check the time. Four minutes. That’s not too bad. I pop my phone back in my pocket.

  “Officer Ashton,” Reyes says as he nears. “Is there a problem?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir.” The security guard hands the pill bottle to Reyes. “Suspicious package.”

  “Looks like a prescription to me,” Reyes says.

  “Dog’s positive, sir.”

  “Okay. Mr. Logan, please come through and give your ID to Officer Ashton. Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

  I keep from rolling my eyes only by a monumental effort of will. There’s no reason for him to know my name, since I haven’t given my ID to Ashton yet. Reyes just tipped my hand to the two security guards.

  I walk through the security arch. Nothing beeps even though there’s a carbon push-knife built into my belt buckle that I use as a quick-release blade during bondage scenes. Carbon fiber should set off a metal detector; it did at passport control. So their scanner’s a piece of shit, too. I give my ID to Ashton, wait impassively while he scans it, and accept my bag back from him when he’s done.

  The dog whines and lifts a paw when I pass him. Since Reyes has blown my cover, I hold the sports drink bottle out towards the dog, just to be sure. That starts the poor dog barking. I guess liquid brick really does smell bad.

  I hand the drink bottle to Reyes and follow him up into the ship.

  He leaves me in a little room down the corridor from the bridge. There’s nothing in it but a table and three chairs. He’s left me with my bag and phone. I hope he wouldn’t do that if I were an actual suspect. But since he has, I take the opportunity to text Emily and Ed Isaak.

  Ed texts back first.

  Damn. I was holding out hope that guests were bringing it aboard. Keep me apprised on next steps.

  Emily’s text pings a moment later.

  Everything’s okay, Daddy. I’m going to take a shower and write until you get back.

  I text her a smiley face, a hand, and a peach emoji. Just to fuck with her head, I add a wolf emoji, so she knows to expect Wolfy-Daddy when I return.

  She sends me back a heart-eyed smiley which makes me chuckle.

  Reyes returns fifteen minutes later with the captain. When she enters, I stand and shake her hand.

  “How did it go, Mr. Logan?” she asks.

  “Dog spotted the brick in both solid and liquid form,” I tell her.

  “Our security’s solid,” Reyes grunts, leaning against the door like he’s blocking my escape route. Asshole.

  “That means guests aren’t bringing it aboard through your check points. So, drones aside, the brick’s been brought onto the ship and is being distributed to the passengers by your staff.”

  Reyes goes white under his tan.

  “And you need to have a talk with your guys. Ashton took my bag out of my sight for four minutes. That’s the end of any case you could make against a guest for bringing illegal substances on board.”

  Blood rushes to Reyes’s face so fast it looks like he’s going to explode. He pushes off
the door with a snarl. “My guys know what they’re doing.”

  “Gentlemen.” Captain Lopez raises her hand.

  Reyes stops in his tracks and moves back, leaning now against the wall, leaving the doorway clear. You’d think he wants me to leave or something.

  “Thank you, Mr. Logan,” the captain says. “I’m pleased the drugs aren’t slipping through our front-line security but sorry to hear the alternative. Is there anything you need from me?”

  “Would you mind putting both bottles somewhere safe? I don’t want them in my cabin, but we might need to use the samples again, so I don’t want to destroy them yet.”

  “No problem. I’ll see that’s done.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need to step up the interviews now. There’s not much hope that my investigation will stay quiet, just so you’re prepared.”

  Captain Lopez nods. “Your next interviewees?”

  “Security staff.” Starting with Ashton. “Then kitchen staff. Mr. Reyes has suggested a distribution route through the kitchens, so that’s where I’ll concentrate initially.”

  At least, that’s where I want Reyes to think I’m concentrating. I’ve been working on an alternative theory. Finding out that Rod McCall might be a professional top, one with a long relationship with the cruise staff, has moved that theory to the top of my list. The first place I’ll actually be concentrating is on staff who were on several cruises with McCall.

  “Understood,” Captain Lopez says, and she’s so accommodating I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at being less than forthcoming with her. But her crew cannot keep their fucking mouths shut, and I trust the man standing behind her not nearly as far as I could throw him. “If there’s anything else I can do, please just let me know.”

  I make sure Dan Reyes hands the pill and sports drink bottles over to her, before I shake their hands and gather my things to leave.

  “One minute,” Reyes growls. “I want to sit in on your interviews with my guys.”

  Does he have any idea how that paints him? It’s not as a caring supervisor, at least, not to me.

  “Sure,” I say.