Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(88)

“Ricky, I think you have plenty of access to lipstick,” Randy said.

“We think that message has something to do with the recent murders in the parish. And guess what?” Ethan said. “Your fingerprints popped up all over that bathroom.”

“What?” Ricky demanded, looking stunned.

“Fingerprints, buddy, they gave you away,” Randy told him.

“Well, of course they did! I’ve used that bathroom,” Ricky said.

“You sneak into your performers’ bathrooms for kicks or something?” Randy demanded.

“No!” Simpson protested. “Last cruise, Mandy Drake, the country singer, was in that room. She and I are old friends. I spent lots of time with her—and not the kind of time you’re probably thinking, either. We’re friends, old friends. I was one of the first people to hire her, years ago.”

Ethan addressed Randy. “Could the cleaning staff on the Journey be that bad?”

“They’d have to be pretty bad,” Randy said. “You can wipe down fingerprints with just about any kind of cloth. And on a mirror, with an ammonia cleaner...easy-peasey.”

“Maybe the damned mirror wasn’t dirty!” Ricky snapped. “Look, I’m the entertainment director, and—”

“I think he was the entertainment director,” Thor said.

“Was, yeah, I’m going to say, that’s the key word,” Ethan agreed.

“Lawyer! I want a lawyer,” Ricky said.

“I haven’t charged you with anything yet,” Randy told him.

“But—”

“Actually, no one but us knows we’re here, Ricky. So I don’t think you should get a lawyer. I think you should just fess up, tell us the truth,” Thor said.

“Depending on your story, we might not have to go to the cruise line and tell them what you did,” Ethan said.

“It’s your right to get a lawyer if you want one, and you don’t have to say anything until you do,” Randy said to Ricky, then looked at Ethan and Thor, and added, “We want this all legit and by the book if we go to court with this jerk. We don’t want any evidence tossed out because we haven’t followed due process.”

“Petty mischief would be one thing, and not worth the taxpayers’ money, as far as taking it to court,” Thor said.

“Losing your job is bad,” Ethan said. “Going to jail...”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Ricky protested.

Ethan shrugged and looked over at Thor and Randy. “I say he’s lying.”

“Sounds like a lie to me, too,” Randy said.

“I’m not lying,” Ricky protested.

“Randy, you want to write up the report?” Ethan asked. “We’re going to have to look deeper, involve the captain of the ship, the VP of entertainment for Celtic American...whatever it takes to get to the truth.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take you in, Mr. Simpson,” Randy said. “Stand up, please. I don’t want to hurt you putting on the cuffs. Of course, once we’re down at the station, you’ll be able to make a call, and get your attorney,” Randy said.

Ricky Simpson did exactly what they’d hoped for. He caved. “Wait, wait, wait. Okay, I did it. Frankly, I...well, I needed the money.”

“The money?” Ethan asked him.

“Yeah, I was wandering around yesterday, by the church. I listen to Jonathan Moreau whenever I can. What that man knows about history could fill the ocean. I always learn something new.”

“What about the money?” Ethan interrupted impatiently.

“Oh, well, there were a bunch of people coming and going, all in uniform—some Yankee, some Reb. I asked why, because I knew there was no reenactment yesterday. Somebody said they were all working on a movie. One of the guys came up to me—he’s in the movie, same movie Charlene Moreau is the star of, I guess. Anyway, he wanted to prank her. Gave me fifty bucks just to slip in and write the message on the mirror. I thought he was just teasing her, replaying a scene from the movie or something.”

“You went into someone else’s cabin and wrote a threat on her mirror as a prank?” Randy asked, disbelieving.

“Who was the man? The one who paid you?” Ethan asked.

“I don’t actually know his name, but he’s in the movie, so you should be able to track him down.”

“What did he look like?” Ethan asked.

“Like a Civil War soldier,” Ricky said.

Ethan prayed for patience. “North? South? Was he young or old?”

“Um... I think it was a Confederate uniform, but I’m not sure. I’m not from around here, so I don’t pay much attention to all that North-South stuff. The guy was... I don’t know. Twenties, thirties, maybe even early forties. He had so much beard, who the hell could tell?”

“If you saw pictures, could you recognize him?” Ethan asked.

“Sure. Maybe. Like I said, man, he had a lot of hair on his face.”

“Okay, where’s the money? You still have the money?” Ethan asked. He glanced over at Randy. It might be a long shot, trying to get prints off the money, but it was possible.

“The money?” Ricky said blankly.

“The fifty dollars, the money you were paid,” Ethan said, trying to contain his irritation.