“Wait just a minute.” Harper led with her fury as she scorched Quinn with the darkest look in her arsenal. “You can’t threaten him. In fact ... .”
Zander held up a hand to quiet his best friend. “I have nothing to hide. I’ll answer your questions. I just need a shower first.”
Quinn bobbed his head. “Great. I’ll track you down as soon as I have an opening in my schedule. Thank you for being so cooperative.”
“Thank you for biting me,” Harper muttered under her breath.
ROWAN FOUND QUINN IN THE dining room shortly before breakfast was due to roll over into lunch. He sat at a table, a mug of coffee in front of him, and a dour look on his face.
“That bad, huh?” She slid into the chair across from him and dug into the heaping mound of food on her plate. “I’m starving. Did you eat?”
Instead of reacting with annoyance, Quinn snickered. “Are you taking care of me?”
“I wouldn’t want to take care of anyone else.”
“That’s sweet.” He grabbed a slice of bacon from her plate. “I had some eggs and toast. I’m not up for much else right now.”
Rowan paused, a sausage link halfway to her mouth. “Maybe you should leave the gruesome details for later,” she suggested.
“She was strangled. It wasn’t exactly gruesome.”
“Oh, well ... .” Not knowing what to say, Rowan shoved the sausage into her mouth and thoughtfully chewed. “Any suspects?”
“There was a guy passed out on a lounger not far away from her. He knew the victim. They drank together in the bar until late into the night.”
“Maybe he wanted to hook up with her,” Rowan suggested. “Maybe she didn’t want to give in to his demands and they fought or something. I can see that happening.”
“He’s gay.”
“Oh.” Rowan wrinkled her forehead. “Well, that changes things. Are you sure he’s really gay? He could be lying about that to throw you off the trail.”
Quinn hit a few buttons on the tablet he’d been working on and turned it so Rowan could see the screen. “His name is Zander Pritchett. He lives in a place called Whisper Cove, Michigan. He runs a business called Ghost Hunters, Inc. with Harper Harlow, who’s his best friend from childhood. She’s the one who claims she can see ghosts and he does the accounting.”
Rowan stared at the Facebook profile Quinn showed her for a long beat. “I’m assuming that’s his boyfriend,” she said finally, gesturing toward the fourth figure standing in the photograph.
Quinn nodded. “If he’s lying about being gay, he started putting this plan in action when he was a kid. He’s not in the closet and has never hidden his orientation, as far as I can tell. The blonde is his best friend. This man here, his name is Jared Monroe. He’s a police detective and Harper’s boyfriend.”
Rowan widened her eyes. “Ah, well, that sounds like a sticky situation. You said they were from Michigan?”
He nodded. “Whisper Cove. Do you know anything about it?”
“I know that it’s a really small town north of Detroit. I think it has like one stoplight. Although ... something about Ghost Hunters, Inc. rings a bell. I can’t really remember, though.”
“Well, their little operation has been in the news of late. Apparently Harper had a boyfriend named Quinn Jackson — Zander mentioned he didn’t like men named Quinn, by the way — and he was thought to have died five years ago. A few weeks ago he came back from the dead ... and promptly tried to kill his former girlfriend.”
“Really?” Rowan was officially intrigued. “Do you think this Zander guy had something to do with our victim’s death?”
“Tasha Vale,” Quinn volunteered. “That was her name. She was twenty-five and here with a group of paranormal shop owners. As far as I can tell, she never claimed to have psychic abilities. Everything with her was a marketing endeavor.”
“There’s nothing technically wrong with that.”
“No,” Quinn agreed. “I have to interview the group she was with, but before that, I need to track down Mark Brady.”
The name jarred something in Rowan’s memory. “I ... why is that name familiar?”
“He was the psychic last evening.”
“The one who claimed everybody was going to die?”
He nodded. “The one and only.”
“Huh.” Rowan wasn’t sure what to make of that. “What do you think he’s going to say?”
“I have no idea, but I intend to find out.” He placed his palms on the table before leaning forward to give her a kiss. “I’ll be in touch. Be careful when you’re out taking photographs. There’s no telling what these people are capable of.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’d better be.”
THE PSYCHIC TO THE STARS was nursing a rather large hangover when he opened his door to Quinn’s abrasive knock.
“Can I help you?” he asked irritably.
“I certainly hope so.” Quinn introduced himself, calm and collected, and then immediately launched into his reason for visiting. He was not inclined to sugarcoat things. “One of the women you informed was going to die last night was found on the deck this morning. She was deceased.”
Mark merely blinked. “I told her it was going to happen.”
“Yes, well ... .”
“I can tell you’re a nonbeliever,” Mark continued, barreling forward. “I have the gift, though. I can predict death.”
“Uh-huh.” Quinn wasn’t in the mood for theatrics. “I need you to account for your whereabouts last night between the hours of ten and four.”
Mark’s mouth dropped. “Excuse me?”
“Your whereabouts,” Quinn repeated. “I need you to account for them.”
“Surely I can’t be a suspect.” Even though he was clearly slow on the uptake this morning thanks to his hangover, Mark was enough of a showman to put everything he had behind the false insult he managed to project to perfection. “I’m the psychic to the stars.”
“I’ve heard that,” Quinn said. “That doesn’t change the fact that you told our victim she would die last night ... and now she’s dead. That seems a little coincidental.”
“But ... I don’t even know which woman you’re talking about.”
“Tasha Vale.”
“I ... .” Mark’s eyes flitted back and forth as he absorbed the name. His reaction was enough to prove to Quinn that there was something else going on.
“You don’t remember her, do you?” Quinn pressed.
“The stars are sluggish this morning.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the tequila you drank last night didn’t help with that,” Quinn drawled. “I’m guessing that you told quite a few people they were dying last night and managed to turn the tide for them by taking whatever curse they suffered under off for a nominal fee.”
Mark’s eyes filled with fire. “I don’t believe I like what you’re insinuating. I’m the real deal.”
“If you say so.” Quinn pursed his lips and waited. After a moment, when Mark didn’t say anything, he decided to press harder. “Mr. Brady, I need to know where you were between ten last night and four this morning.”
“And what if I don’t feel like answering?” There was obvious challenge in the way Mark tilted his head.
“Then I will be forced to take you to a holding cell, where you will remain until we dock back in Florida,” Quinn replied without hesitation. “At that time, you will be able to retain a lawyer and talk to the local authorities there.”
Mark was dumbfounded. “You can’t do that. I’m performing at least three other shows on the ship over the next few days.”
“There are plenty of people here willing to take your place,” Quinn countered. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem sliding someone in.”
“I’ll call your corporate office to complain. You’ll lose your job.”
“No, I won’t. It doesn’t matter, though. You will either answer my questions or you’ll go to holding. It’s up to you.”
“Is it normal for you to drink so much you black out?”
“I didn’t black out. I just ... don’t remember.”
Quinn heaved out a sigh. “You’re going to have to do better than that. You need to come up with answers. Otherwise, you’re going to be on top of my suspect list. You predicted her death last night and now she’s gone. I’m having trouble believing that’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t remember.”
“Then we definitely have a problem.”
Seven
It was only after Quinn departed to continue his investigation that Rowan realized she’d forgotten to tell him about her conversation with her father. He’d answered on the first ring after she texted to say she was calling, and his careworn face broke into a bright smile when he saw her.
The smile evaporated when she told him what was going on. Since he had no idea how to help, he promised to do some research and get back to her. It had been a long shot from the start, but she was mildly disappointed.
With nothing better to do, she returned to the deck — which was bustling with activity now that the body had been removed and guests seemed none the wiser as to what had transpired — and started snapping photographs. Her goal was to get as many people as possible isolated into their own snapshots so she could check the omen and go from there.
She went about it scientifically, breaking each section down into quadrants and snapping away. After taking almost three hundred photos, she moved to the tiki bar so she could huddle in the shade and search the photos. She didn’t like what she saw.
“What are you doing?” Sally Jenkins, Rowan’s best friend on the ship, took her by surprise when she swooped in and claimed the spot across from her.
“Wow. I’m totally getting you a bell to wear around your neck,” Rowan complained, pressing her hand to the spot above her heart. “You scared the life out of me.”
Instead of apologizing, Sally barked out a laugh. “Please. You’ve almost been killed at least four times in the last six months. I think you’ll survive.”
Rowan’s expression turned dark. “I didn’t almost die four times.”
“It felt that way to me.”
“Yeah, well ... .” Rowan trailed off and regrouped. “What are you up to?” Sally was one of her favorite people on the ship. The woman was gregarious, open, and never tried to make herself feel better at the expense of others. She also knew Rowan’s secret, and even though the news went over like a lead balloon at the start, she was open to conversation now.
“Just looking around,” Sally replied, her gaze thoughtful as it roamed Rowan’s face. “You look a little pink. Did you forget your sunscreen this morning?”
“Huh.” Rowan furrowed her brow and then cursed under her breath. “I guess I did. I was in a hurry. Quinn got the call about the body right away and I had something to do after. Crap. Is it bad?” Rowan tried to maneuver so she could see her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, but she was too far away to get a good look.
“It’s not terrible, but it has the potential to darken … and maybe peel,” Sally said. “I think you’ll be fine. Just tell people you’re perpetually embarrassed.”
“Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”
“Woohoo.” Sally made an exaggerated face as she fanned herself. “Someone is hot under the collar as well as in the face. What’s up with you?”
Rowan opened her mouth to answer and then found she didn’t have the words.
Sensing the shift in her friend’s demeanor, Sally’s smile slipped. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Rowan gestured toward her computer screen, prompting Sally to grab her chair and scooch closer. “What do you see here?”
Sally focused on the screen. “It’s the omen. You’ve shown it to me before. This is the death omen, right?”
Rowan nodded and scrolled to another photo. “And here?”
“It’s another omen.”
Rowan slowly shuffled through the photos, briefly pausing on each one so Sally could see the magnitude of what they were dealing with. “There are more than a hundred of them.”
“Holy ... what does that mean?” Sally looked as concerned as Rowan felt, which was a small comfort to the shaken photographer.
“I have no idea,” Rowan answered. “I’ve never seen it before … at least not so many times. I don’t know what it means.”
“Does Quinn know?”
“Of course. I couldn’t keep something like this from him.”
“Definitely not,” Sally agreed. “I’m no expert, but it seems to be pointing at a catastrophe to me. Is that how you read things?”
“I don’t want to say that because it might cause a panic.”
“Well, since only Quinn, you, and I know about it, I don’t think we have to worry about that.” Sally was thoughtful as she tapped her chin. “What kind of catastrophe do you think we’re facing?”
“If I knew that, we’d be taking steps to eliminate the threat right now.”
“Fair enough.” More tapping. “Hey, what about the dead woman? Have you checked your photos to see if she had the omen on her?”
Rowan felt like an idiot. “No, and that’s a really good idea. What was her name again?”
“I don’t know. How should I know that?”
“Quinn told me.” Rowan rolled her neck and concentrated. “Vale. Tasha Vale. I remember because I thought it would be cool if Batman and Star Trek crossed over.”
Sally pursed her lips. “And how would that happen?”
“Vicki Vale from Batman and Tasha Yar from Star Trek: The Next Generation.”
“Wow. You’re a geek.” Sally poked her side, genuinely amused. “I had no idea you were such a geek.”
“And I’m done talking to you,” Rowan muttered as she searched through the photographs she’d taken the previous day. “Here she is at check-in.” She studied the photo in question, zeroing in on the dead woman. “She was with a group of other store owners. I talked to them.”
Rowan racked her brain. “They said that they wanted to come because they thought it would be a good way to make connections in the business,” she continued. “They were having a good time. I asked them how they all knew each other and they said they met through an online group. I don’t know anything else about them.”
“What is Quinn saying?”
“He didn’t have time to tell me much. He mentioned there was a guy on the deck sleeping and he initially thought he might have something to do with what happened, but the guy on the deck was gay.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not a murderer.”
“No, but Quinn seemed to think it was a coincidence. He didn’t have a lot of time to talk. I’ll have to get more information out of him later.”
“Okay. That makes sense. What are you going to do about this, though? The omen obviously appears in the photograph.”
“It does. I don’t have a single photo of Tasha, though. The omen could be there for one of the other women ... or several of the other women. I didn’t notice the omen until I was going through photos yesterday. Today I’m isolating people.”
“What are you going to do about it, though?” Sally pressed. “How do you even approach something like this?”
“I have no idea. Although ... maybe we should make a list of the things that could happen on a ship to take out multiple people at once.”
“How do you know they’re all dying at once?”
“I don’t, but it makes the most sense. There’s no way a killer could individually stalk a hundred people and kill them. That means we’re dealing with a mass casualty situation. There can only be so many things that can happen on
a ship.”
“I think you would be surprised how many things can happen on a ship,” Sally countered. “Something could explode ... or the ship could hit an iceberg and sink.”
Rowan made an exasperated face. “We’re going to the Bahamas. There are no icebergs.”
“Fine. Maybe a Megalodon is out there and it’s going to ram into the ship.”
“Ugh. I knew taking you to that giant shark movie was a mistake.”
Sally’s mischievous smile was back. “Yes, well, that doesn’t change the fact that there are multiple things that could sink us,” she said. “It could be something as simple as someone slipping a dangerous substance into the food and poisoning people.”
“Well, I have to admit, I didn’t even consider that.” Rowan leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs in front of her. “You’re right. It could be any number of things. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Sally rarely opted for pragmatism, but she did today. “All you can do is be vigilant. You can’t watch all of them. This is a case where you have to figure out the end result before the pieces fit into the puzzle.”
“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound daunting at all.”
“Aren’t you glad you have me around to tell you things like that?”
“I’m always glad to have you around.”
HARPER AND JARED WAITED for Zander to shower and then ushered him out of his room despite his protests.
“The security dude wants to talk to me.”
“It’s a ship,” Jared pointed out. “It won’t take much for him to find you. We all need some food ... and to have a bit of a talk about last night.”
“Frankly, I don’t think Harper should eat,” Zander shot back. “If she does, she’ll just throw it up again. Seriously, that was the grossest thing that ever happened to me.”
“You should be thankful that I love you enough to puke on you,” Harper groused, folding her arms across her chest as Jared pointed them toward the elevator. “Not everyone has a best friend who would puke because she was so upset about their death.”
Wicked Ghostly Seas: A Rowan Gray, Harper Harlow and Ivy Morgan Mystery Omnibus Page 46
