Page 39 of Fatal Fall Foliage Cruise (Cruising Through Midlife: Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries #10)

CHAPTER 39

T he moonless night on the promenade deck is filled with raucous laughter, loud music, and the clinking of champagne glasses.

The luminescent waves skim alongside the ship, painting the edges of the deck in a soft, dreamy light. As formal nights go, this one is a knockout—especially since Wes and Elodie have pulled out all the stops for Ransom and me.

But all of that fades into the background because right now I’m focused entirely on Merritt Garrett’s ghost floating at my side, glowing a brilliant shade of blue as if she were a haunted nightlight.

“All right, fine.” Merritt hovers close. “Yes, I slept with Visalia’s father.” She growls as she says it as if it were somehow all my fault. And I wouldn’t be shocked to learn she believed it was. “And it’s all your fault!”

“ Knew it ,” I mutter.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and for some reason, it feels as if her confession has serious gravity to it. I knew she was trouble—heck, I had a front-row seat to the Merritt Garrett Disaster Show for years—but this is a whole new level of low.

“You did it because you were angry at Visalia, didn’t you?” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You only knew one form of revenge—seduce and destroy. ”

Merritt looks away, and for a brief moment, I think I see a flicker of guilt. Must be the bad lighting.

I take a deep breath. “Merritt, you broke up their marriage, didn’t you? Visalia said her parents were together for a very long time, that they had a strong marriage.”

Merritt huffs, “Apparently, not strong enough.”

I bite down on my lip as that conversation I just had with Josie flits through my mind.

“Josie mentioned something about her father being a well-known womanizer,” I continue with pressured speech. “You took advantage of that fact. But why? What did Visalia do to you that made you so cruel?”

“Maybe it was you who made me so cruel. Did you ever think of that? Maybe you made this monster, Trixie Troublefield!” She pokes a ghostly finger right through my chest and a jolt runs through me as she does it.

Merritt’s eyes close—a bit longer than they should. Her ghostly form seems to shimmer, like a candle flickering in the wind.

“I needed someone, and he was there,” she whispers. “That’s what I do, Trixie. I use men. They’re nothing but a means to an end.”

“That’s a well-established fact. But Visalia’s father? She did something to you, didn’t she? This was a control issue. This was personal.”

Merritt’s entire form turns a bright shade of red, her eyes blazing bright as a fire. Clearly, I’ve hit a nerve.

She opens her mouth to say something, but her attention is quickly hijacked. Merritt lifts her ghostly hand and points past me. I turn to follow her glowing finger, and sure enough, there’s Visalia slipping into the Blue Water Café.

I don’t even hesitate.

Both Merritt and I are there in no time.

The café is sparsely populated with just a few tables occupied by couples enjoying a late-night snack. The smell of fresh pastries and hot coffee fills the air, mingling with the soft hum of jazz in the background. Food stations line the walls—donuts, cupcakes, sandwiches. The lighting is warm and low, creating the perfect setting for the horror movie that’s about to erupt around us—one that, if I’m right, Visalia is starring in herself.

“She’s over there.” Merritt nods toward the back where Visalia stands by a tower of delectable-looking donuts. And I have been craving that Boston cream pie donut ever since we left Massachusetts. Here’s hoping Wes made good on his word.

Without missing a beat, I make a beeline in her direction.

“Visalia,” I call out, breathless, as I approach and do my best to smile, but it feels more like a ghoulish grimace. “We need to talk.”