The Girl in Her Cabin (Emma Griffin® FBI Mystery Book 27) by A.J. Rivers

Author:A.J. Rivers [Rivers, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.J. Rivers
Published: 2024-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

As I start to explore the ship, I feel like I’m pulled in different directions. I’m still trying to figure out what happened to Francine, whether she did end up going overboard or if she’s still somewhere being held. At the same time, I’m trying to figure out who Michael Gehring and the shooting victim were and why they were on board. I know the two men are connected. I just have to prove it. And doing that without even knowing the name of the man who was shot on the island is going to be challenging.

As soon as that thought goes through my mind, I remember the older gentleman across the hall from Michael Gehring’s room telling me he heard Michael and the man who went into the room with him talking about going to the casino. It’s entirely possible that it was just a conversation to cover up what they were actually talking about when they noticed they weren’t alone in the hallway, but I have to give it a chance and check it out.

The casino is much quieter late in the afternoon than it is at night, but that works out for me. I’m not interested in the people who are there to gamble. I want to speak with the crew members running the games and making drinks at the bar. On my way to the casino, I pulled up an article about Gehring’s death that features a picture of him. It looks like it’s from a couple of years ago, but he’s still readily recognizable.

I go up to the first crew member I see at an empty table.

“We’ll need a couple more to deal in,” the young woman says. Her name tag says “Brandy,” and I immediately think of the old song my father used to love to listen to when I was young.

“Thanks, but I’m actually not here to play. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions,” I say.

She gives me a quizzical look but doesn’t balk. “All right, I guess.”

“You heard a man drowned on the island yesterday,” I say.

“Yes,” she says with a frown. “It’s a horrible tragedy when things like that happen. Fortunately, it’s not very often.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Do you remember seeing him around here at all?” I ask.

“Honestly, I don’t even know who he was,” she says.

I show her the picture from the article. “Does he look familiar at all?”

“No, not really. I’m sorry. I see a lot of people come through here every night, and I’m usually focused on their hands, not their faces,” she says. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to get some information,” I say. “Just finding out about him. Thank you.”

The other tables have passengers at them, so I make my way over to the bar. The bartender is wiping down glasses and hanging them up, preparing for the busier hours ahead. She smiles at me when I sit on one of the stools in front of her.

“Get you a drink?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “Actually, yes.

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