“This isn’t a joke or a show.”
“Really?” Phil arched a challenging eyebrow. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m the head of security for The Bounding Storm and I don’t care in the least about your stupid awards show,” Quinn shot back. “I do care that my girlfriend found a dead body in the gallery and you don’t seem to care at all that it belonged to your girlfriend.”
“Are you serious?” Phil finally registered a realistic expression. “Elvira is really dead?”
“She is,” Quinn confirmed, bobbing his head. “Someone slashed her throat. We’re looking at video feeds and questioning people who were close to the scene at the time in question. We will also need to question you.”
“Me?” Phil’s voice went squeaky. “You can’t possibly suspect me. I was too drunk to do anything.”
“I like how you’re using drunkenness as an alibi. Still, we need to question you.”
“I haven’t seen Elvira since dinner yesterday.”
“You just told me that you can’t remember what you did last night and there was a very real chance you groped my girlfriend.”
“Yes, but that was … I was kidding.”
“Well, I’m not.” Quinn scooped up a shirt from the floor. “You need to get dressed so we can sit down and have a conversation.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
“Then we’ll take you into custody and hold you until we hit the mainland and then the police will question you.”
“I see. And you can do that?”
“I can.”
“Well, great.” Phil scowled. “I think I’m going to need a drink if you expect me to survive this day.”
“Yeah, I think that you’re cut off.”
“Bummer.”
18
Eighteen
“What does it mean?”
Quinn did his best to remain calm despite Rowan’s obvious agitation as they met for a late lunch at the tiki bar. The moment she saw him she launched into a lengthy diatribe about Elvira not having the omen on her photographs from the previous day and how that meant they were essentially swimming upstream without a paddle. Quinn was having trouble wrapping his head around the situation.
“It means that whoever killed her made up his or her mind to do it at the last second,” Rowan said, pushing her fries around her plate instead of eating them. “It means it was a heat-of-the-moment thing.”
“A crime of passion?”
“How should I know if she was having sex with her killer?” Rowan exploded, earning a few curious stares from late lunchers at nearby tables.
“Okay, Ro, you need to calm down,” Quinn said, gripping her hand as he lowered his voice. “I’m trying to understand. I’m not your enemy here and I don’t think I deserve to be yelled at.”
Rowan realized she was acting like a crazy person and adjusted her attitude. “I’m sorry. I’m just … it’s been a long day.”
“You’re tired,” Quinn noted. “I can see that when I look at you. I understand you’re upset, but there’s no reason to make yourself crazy about this. You couldn’t have done anything to stop it so don’t take on a mountain of guilt that doesn’t belong to you.”
“I could’ve done something to save Callisto.”
“You don’t know that.” Quinn wanted to yell back, perhaps even shake her, but he had a feeling that wasn’t a good idea given the circumstances. Rowan was a robust woman who liked to take care of herself, but she seemed somehow fragile this afternoon. That fragility made Quinn want to wrap himself around her as a form of protection, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. “We don’t know what happened to Callisto so blaming yourself seems counterproductive.”
Rowan balked. “Elvira is dead.”
“I noticed.”
“If she’s dead, it’s clear that Callisto is dead, too,” Rowan argued, doing her best to make sure her voice didn’t carry to neighboring tables. She didn’t want to incite a panic. “What are the odds that two separate people are involved?”
“I don’t know.” Quinn chose his words carefully. “Perhaps Callisto is hiding to secure the award and Elvira discovered her secret and Callisto killed her. Have you ever considered that? Perhaps Callisto is the culprit and the omen didn’t show up on photos because the women merely stumbled across each other’s paths. That seems at least mildly plausible to me.”
Rowan tugged on her lower lip as she considered the scenario. “I guess I didn’t think about something like that.”
“No, you didn’t,” Quinn agreed. He wanted to coddle her – although he was convinced that was some twisted male wanting to take care of his female thing and it would ultimately backfire on him – but he remained firm. “Have you considered the original fight was always between Elvira and Callisto?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe Elvira was the one plotting against Callisto,” Quinn offered. “Maybe she was the reason Callisto had the mark in the first place. Somehow Callisto managed to twist things around and save herself and she’s been hiding ever since. Maybe she got tired of hiding and went out and ran into Elvira and things got out of hand.”
“Huh.” Rowan’s expression was hard to read. “Do you really think that’s what happened?”
“No, but it’s possible.”
Rowan’s hopeful expression died. “If you don’t think it’s what happened, why did you say it?”
“Because you’re blaming yourself when we have absolutely nothing to go on,” Quinn replied, unruffled by her petulant tone. “We have no idea what is going on so I don’t want you blaming yourself until you have reason to do it.” He leaned closer so she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “By the way, you’re never going to find a reason to blame yourself because you’re not omnipotent and you don’t control the universe.”
Rowan had the grace to be abashed. “I … you must think I’m self-centered, huh?”
Quinn shook his head. “I’m self-centered,” he corrected. “You’re just spiraling because this is a lot to take in. The medical staff is going over Elvira’s body right now. We’ll have more information after lunch.”
“And then what?”
“And then we’ll decide what to do from there,” Quinn replied. “We don’t have a direction to look so that means we can stare at each other over lunch. Personally, I’m glad for that. Even when you’re being mental you’re still pretty.”
Rowan’s smile was sheepish. “I’m sorry for being mental.”
“Don’t be. I like it.” Quinn tapped the side of her plate. “Eat your lunch. You need fuel. We’ll take this one step at a time.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Talking me down.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“I’M SURPRISED TO find you out here.”
Brimstone followed Rowan as she snapped photographs on the deck an hour later, his eyes veiled as he focused on her.
“Why?” Rowan asked, glancing over her shoulder. She didn’t know the man well, but he looked weary, as if the only thing he truly wanted to do with his day was climb into bed and take a nap. Instead he fixated on her as she snapped photographs and moved across the deck.
“I thought you would be with your boyfriend. My understanding is that a dead body was found in the gallery this morning.”
“That’s true.” Rowan forced a thin-lipped smile. “I’m the one who found the body.”
Brimstone was taken aback. “You? How?”
“I went inside the gallery for a bit of alone time and found Elvira in a weird tableau thing,” Rowan explained, snapping several more photos before moving on. She was determined to get a snapshot of everyone in case someone else was doomed to die. She didn’t want to be caught unaware a second time. “At first I thought it was a new display because I couldn’t see her face, but then I realized the blood on the floor was real. The medical team is going over her body for evidence right now.”
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry you had to see that.” Brimstone sounded legitimately contrite. “That must’ve been hard for you.”
Rowan didn’t feel like herself, her emotions akin to a raw nerve being exposed to outside elements, but she was hardly a damsel in distress. “Don’t worry about it. I used to be a newspaper photographer. I’ve seen bodies before.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not jarring.”
“I guess not.” Rowan turned her back to Brimstone and focused on a group of women playing strip shuffleboard at the far end of the deck. “On a normal day they would get in trouble for that, but since security is focused on Elvira, I guess they’ll probably get away with it.” Rowan made sure to snap her photographs before anyone got naked. “It’s their lucky day.”
“You don’t look as if you believe it’s your lucky day,” Brimstone pointed out. “How come you’re not with your boyfriend? I would think he wants you with him at a time like this.”
Something occurred to Rowan, and she removed her finger from the camera button as she focused her full attention on Brimstone. “How come you always refer to him as my boyfriend rather than by his name?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You never call him Quinn,” Rowan pressed. “You always refer to him as ‘your boyfriend’ when talking to me. That essentially strips away his personhood and makes him only one thing – in this case, my boyfriend. Why is that?”
“I think you’re looking a little too deep,” Brimstone replied. “I’m not trying to strip away his personhood as much as I don’t want to know him.”
“Why not?”
“Because … um … he knows you better than me and I’m jealous.” Brimstone delivered the words with only a minimal stutter, but Rowan didn’t believe him for a second.
“You’re not jealous. You don’t like me.”
“I happen to like you a great deal,” Brimstone argued. “You’re the only one on this ship who even seems remotely normal.”
“You’ve talked to everyone?”
“Maybe I only want to talk to you. Have you ever considered that?”
Rowan opened her mouth to say something, an admonishment on her lips, but she changed course quickly. “You’re very good at distracting people,” she said after a beat. “I don’t think most people notice what you’re doing because they’re not trained observers.”
Brimstone’s lips curved. “And you think I need observing?”
“I think you deflect with charm and flirty banter whenever someone asks something of you that you’re not comfortable giving,” Rowan corrected. “You ask questions of others and when they return the favor, you have a multitude of distractions ready to make sure you don’t have to answer the questions. It’s … interesting.”
“I think you’re assigning motivations to me that my small brain isn’t possibly capable of conjuring up,” Brimstone said. “I like pretty women. I can’t help myself. There’s nothing nefarious about it.”
Rowan extended a finger. “You just did it again.”
“I did not!” For the first time since she’d met him, Rowan caught a hint of frustration on Brimstone’s face. He didn’t like the conversational turn. “I’m flirting with you. I might not be doing a good job of it, but I’m used to the women in this industry and they’re easy and slow on the uptake.”
Brimstone’s voice carried, and one of the women from Callisto’s posse snapped her head in his direction, a dark look on her face.
“What?” Brimstone challenged her. “Are you actually going to deny it? I saw you in the dining room with your shorts around your ankles last night and you couldn’t figure out why you were having trouble walking. You’re only proving my case.”
The woman’s eyes flashed, but she remained silent, crossing her arms over her chest as she focused on the naked shuffleboard tournament. Rowan had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the exchange.
“Why are you smiling?” Brimstone huffed out. “This isn’t funny.”
“You’re hiding something,” Rowan answered without hesitation. “I don’t know what it is, but you are. You’re upset that I called you on it. You thought you could continue to fool me and you’re annoyed because it didn’t work.”
“That shows what you know,” Brimstone barked. “I don’t want to talk to you for one second longer.” He turned on his heel and let loose with a low growl as he stalked in the direction of the tiki bar.
Rowan watched him go, genuinely amused. “Yeah. You’re definitely up to something.” She stared in his wake for a few moments before turning back to her camera. She didn’t have time to worry about Brimstone. She had other things to focus on … like finding a killer. Of course, Brimstone could be a killer. Rowan wasn’t entirely comfortable with him and he seemed agitated that she would dare call his motivations into question.
Still, despite everything, Rowan didn’t think that was the secret Brimstone hid. Something else was going on with him.
She was almost sure of it.
“YOU NEED TO lock down your girlfriend.”
Whatever words of greeting Quinn expected to hear from Brimstone’s mouth when the man approached him in his office, that wasn’t it. Quinn wasn’t sure how to respond given Brimstone’s sweaty face and tousled hair, so he merely leaned back in his desk chair and arched an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“Your girlfriend,” Brimstone repeated. “You need to lock her down. She’s … freaking manic or something.”
Quinn considered himself a good card player, but his poker face slipped as he leaned forward. “What’s wrong with Rowan?”
“She’s on the deck snapping photographs like a madwoman,” Brimstone replied, not missing a beat. He threw himself in one of the chairs across from Quinn and fanned himself with his hand. “It’s freaking hot out there and she’s all sweaty and wet. Normally I would find that appealing, but she’s acting odd.”
“Uh-huh.” Quinn relaxed, but only marginally. “Why are you worried about what Rowan is doing? By the way, taking photographs is part of her job. I don’t see how you can describe that as ‘odd.’”
“I understand that.” Brimstone grabbed a tissue from the box on Quinn’s desk and pressed it to his face. “She’s got more than enough photographs for the afternoon, though. She’s up there taking a photo of every single person. I’m not kidding. She’s going out of her way to get a photo of every single person on the ship.”
Quinn didn’t doubt that. Despite their conversation earlier, he was convinced Rowan would work herself into heat exhaustion to make sure all of their bases were covered and they didn’t miss anything. She couldn’t take the thought of anyone else dying on her watch. “I’ll talk to her.”
Brimstone kept his eyes on Quinn, as if waiting for him to get to his feet right away and track down Rowan. “Soon?”
“I’m not her father,” Quinn pointed out. “She’s doing her job. I’ll check on her in a little bit to make sure she’s staying hydrated but … she’s an adult. She knows how to take care of herself.”
“And here I thought you wanted to take care of her.” Brimstone shook his head, making a tsking sound in the back of his throat. “I guess I read you wrong.”
“You didn’t read me wrong. I said I would take care of her. My question is: Why do you care?”
Brimstone balked. “I happen to like her. She makes me laugh.”
“I happen to like her, too,” Quinn supplied. “I’m pretty sure I like her more.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“That’s because I’ve already won,” Quinn gritted out. “What’s your deal? I would think you would be with your boss right now. He just lost his girlfriend in a particularly vicious fashion. Isn’t it your job to take care of him? Isn’t he your friend?”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Brimstone replied. “I’m his employee. We’re not friends. The movie industry isn’t like what you’ve got here.”
Quinn was intrigued despite himself. “What
is that supposed to mean?”
“These people make up stories and pretend to be other characters for money,” Brimstone explained. “They’re not real. What you have here may be weird and kooky at times – and I’ve seen some of the workers you have hanging around so I know that’s true – but it’s real.
“I saw you with your girlfriend last night,” he continued. “You were perfectly happy walking around the deck doing nothing but holding her hand. In our world, the woman would be trying to decide how to make the man do something to further her career … or even hurt someone else … and the man would be counting down the seconds until he could meet up with his side piece to get some action. You have it good here.”
Quinn was baffled by Brimstone’s diatribe. “I know I’m lucky. I feel that every single day I’m here. If you’re so unhappy, why are you in the industry you’re in? Pick another job.”
“Yeah, that’s not really an option,” Brimstone muttered under his breath, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead as he regrouped. “Listen, I’m not your boss and you don’t have to do what I say, but I would suggest keeping your girlfriend close. Things are going wonky and weird right now and I would hate to see her caught in the crossfire.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that with Callisto missing and Elvira dead, there’s a sudden vacuum in the movie world and you can practically hear the schemers and dreamers putting their heads together to take advantage of the situation,” Brimstone answered. “Dude, seriously, there is more going on here than you can possibly fathom.”
“So why don’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not my place.” Brimstone gripped the arms of his chair, inhaling deeply as he leaned forward. “I like you … kind of. Okay, I honestly don’t care about you. I do like your girlfriend, though, and I think you’re good at your job. You need to keep your eyes open. Things are about to happen.”
Quinn hated vague warnings more than anything. “What is about to happen?”
“Movie magic,” Brimstone replied. “We’re gearing up for the big finish.”
“That’s an odd thing to say.”
Stormy Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 3) Page 17
