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“I think—” I scan the crowd—“Becky Lee mentioned her sister was in nursing school.” I rush over to the murder merch table in hopes of finding Becky Lee herself, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Instead, I run my fingers along the rows and rows of merchandise with clever sayings all lined up likedarlingducks in a row—right up until my fingers land on something hard and sharp.
I look down and a breath gets caught in my throat.
Not only does Becky Lee Darling sell tote bags and mugs—she sells brooches, too.
CHAPTER35
While Trixie’s Away, the Ship Will Play—The Elodie Edition
Attention, amorous adventurers! While our detective duo conducts their own version of port of call inspection—and honestly, who knew ship security could involve so many private demonstrations?—let’s dive into today’s steamy inquiry.
Dear Elodie,
The cruise director mentioned something about a couples paint and sip class in the ship’s art gallery after hours. My husband thinks it sounds tame, but I’ve noticed they advertiselive models. Should we sign up?
Artistically Aroused
My creative cutie,
Tameis the last word I’d use for that particular evening activity. The art gallery after dark is like a private studio for exploring the humanform. And trust me, thoselive modelsare very dedicated to their craft.
The easel placement offers surprisingly intimate angles, and that chaise lounge has inspired more artistic expression than the Louvre. Though I do recommend bringing an extra shirt. Body painting wasn’t officially on the curriculum until I suggested it, and that paint can be—well, enthusiastically applied.
Painting passionately,
XOXO Elodie
Trixie
The thingabout murder investigations is that half the time the killer might as well be wearing a name tag and waving a flag. But we get so caught up looking for complicated answers that we miss the simple truth strutting right past us in high heels. Once again, thewewould beme.
Tonight, however, all those pieces are finally clicking into place.
I spot Becky Lee Darling slipping into a shadowed corner of the lounge, far away from the festivities here at the Midnight Murder Mingle being held in honor of those who showed up for theWhispers of the Wickedpodcast cruise.
She’s all alone, staring off toward the empty seats deeper in the formal dining room, just standing there like a lady in waiting. A lady unwittingly waiting for me.
Perfect timing.
My fingers still tingle from touching that rhinestone brooch at her murder merch table. And although there wasn’t one that was an exact match for the one found next to Brad’s body, they looked very similar, albeit in the shape of guns, deer stalker hats, and skulls and crossbones.
Sassy swoops in, her countenance glowing brighter than the chandeliers that are hardly giving off light. I get that they’re going for a moody mysterious theme, but there are some of us who can’t drive at night, let alone walk a straight line in the dark. And I fall squarely in that category.
Getting old is fun.
“Becky Lee?” Sassy shakes her head and a spray of baby pink stars light up the vicinity like sparklers. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“Hang onto your victory roll,” I tell her as we speed toward the woman. “Because I’m hoping to make things as clear as crystal.”
Becky Lee turns my way and does a double take. “Oh, Trixie?” She squints out at me. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, actually, I was just commenting on how clear the crystal is. The housekeeping staff goes above and beyond in every capacity.”
“That they do.” She gives a little laugh. Her bun gleams in this dim light, more silver than it is brunette tonight, and she’s tossed that purple knit cardigan over her teal-colored gown. “And I’ve appreciated every single animal they’ve fashioned out of a towel for me,” Becky Lee goes on. “In fact, I’ve saved them all and lined them up on the sofa in our cabin. My husband thinks it’s silly.” She sighs hard as she says it and suddenly my defenses go down.
Sassy leans my way. “I think her husband is silly.”