Page 28

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Hi, Trixie. It’s me, Ned. I’m still reeling from the news that my uncle never intended for me to have that inheritance. After a lot of thought, I’ve decided to give all the money back to my cousin. It feels like the right thing to do, given everything that’s unfolded. Any advice on what could make me feel better?

Broke again,

Ned

Dear Broke,

Turning the unexpected inheritance into a no-strings-attached return policy would bring anyone down. I suggest you pamper yourself a little while on the cruise and try to forget your troubles. And don’t forget you’re there with friends. Lean into those friendships in your time of need.

XOXO Trixie

What I see hereon the promenade deck, under a bed of stars, isn’t your typical sea wench or any kind of pirate for that matter either. It’s Connie Parker dressed in a hot pink gown that looks as if she pulled it straight out of the Regency period. The dress is full and billowing, starting with a tight corset, puffy sleeves, and a skirt that could double as a hot air balloon.

Her dress not only catches the light, but it catches the eye of everyone around. The fabric flows in soft, sumptuous waves, shimmering with every step she takes as if she’s wrapped herself in a hot pink Caribbean sunset.

To top it off, she’s adorned herself with enough bling and zing to fill up any treasure chest. Both wrists and her neck are wrapped up in enough glitter to outfit a jewelry store, and judging by the looks of those big chunky pieces, an entire flea market, too. Her crimson locks are swept into an updo and are accented with even more sparkling gems tucked around her forehead, making it appear as if she’s been crowned with stars.

“Well, well,” Hank growls. “If it isn’t the merry widow.”

“Technically, they weren’t married,” I point out. “And furthermore, she had evidence he was cheating. I say go big or go home in the celebration department once a girl rids herself of a cheater.”

“Even if it means going big with murder?”

“I guess I can’t root for that,” I say. “But then, we haven’t squeezed a confession out of her just yet.”

“By all means”—Hank holds out a ghostly arm and I hook mine to his—“let’s squeeze the living daylights out of her if we have to. I’ve got a ship in the sky to tend to.”

“Let’s squeeze away,” I say as we head in her direction.

Connie says hello to a few fellow passengers before finding a quiet spot a few paces away from the revelry, settling her arms on the railing and staring out at the water.

“It’s a beautiful night,” I say as I swoop in next to her and Hank ensconces her on the other side.

“Oh, Trixie.” She presses a hand to her chest. “You scared me. I don’t know why, but I felt as if I was about to see a ghost.”

Hank growls, “That can be arranged.”

I shoot him a look for even going there. Even if Connie does pan out to be the killer, it doesn’t mean I want to see her leaving the world behind.

“I’d ask how your cruise went”—I say just above a whisper—“but I think I know the answer.”

She closes her eyes a moment, only to reveal fresh tears once she opens them again.

Her skin glows blue as the moonlight washes the ship in the sullen hue.

“I miss him,” she sniffs. “Is that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?” She tips her head my way. “I know he was cheating on me, and essentially treated me like garbage, but for some reason, I’ve been sick with grief.” Tears roll down her cheeks and my heart breaks for the woman.

“Oh, Connie, I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing her back. “And I get it. You had feelings for the guy. I mean, that’s why you were in the relationship to begin with. And despite his smarmy actions, he was in this because he had feelings for you as well—at least in the beginning.” I shrug. “My ex-husband cheated on me, too. And yet, once upon a time, he was in love with me. Go figure. We spent twenty-five years together before I dumped him. Be thankful it didn’t take you that long to figure it out.”

A weak laugh bumps from her. “I’m guessing you handled things with more aplomb. I’ve always been a bit of a ticking time bomb, and I didn’t hesitate to explode once I solidified the facts. A friend just sent me the evidence once we stepped onto the ship. Then I sort of detonated from there.”

I offer a solemn nod her way. “I can relate. I exploded, too. Verbally at first, then later on I dropped a much bigger legal bomb on him via my divorce attorney.”

Another quick laugh rumbles in her chest. “Well, I chose to chew him out in front of all these nice people who accompanied us on our trip. It wasn’t my finest hour.” The smile melts from her lips as she scowls out at the sea. “Besides, I’m more of a revenge type of gal. Act first, ask questions later.” She sighs. “Only now, Roger isn’t around to answer any questions.”

“Connie”—my voice is low as I scoot in another notch—“I understand why you did it.”

“I know you do, Trixie. The only other person who can commiserate on how horrible it feels to be cheated on is another woman who’s been treated the same. We’re in a very ugly club.”

“I agree. Is that why you did it?”

She blinks my way. “Of course. He had it coming. I’m just sick that I started everyone’s cruise off on the wrong foot.”

“A corpse will do that,” I say and Hank offers me a thumbs-up for going there.

Connie squints my way. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I think we both know.” I take a moment to look into her eyes. “Connie, I found out that you have a degree in molecular biology. You know your way around a compound or two—and that includes liquor. You’re Mr. X, aren’t you? You somehow snuck a bottle of Blackbeard’s Brew on board—after you distilled it to the point of toxicity, and you slipped it in that blue cocktail you gave him.”

She inches back and examines me for a moment.

“Wow.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself. But I didn’t do it. And I’m not Mr. X. In fact, I hate liquor.”

“It’s true,” Hank muses.

“It is?” I say. “You do?” I revert my attention back to the suspect at hand—who is quickly losing her top spot on my list.

“That’s right,” she groans. “My father was a notorious alcoholic. He even ended up behind bars for a time because of it. You can look it up. It’s all public record. I can’t stand the smell of alcohol, let alone drink it.”

“But you dated Roger,” I say as if that was evidence enough.

“I was his accountant,” she counters. “We were, well, we were having an affair.” She rolls her eyes. “And please spare me of any lecture. I’ve been lecturing myself plenty. Anyway, I never so much as tasted his concoctions, let alone put them together. That’s the work of a talented mixologist. And whoever they are, Roger was very careful not to reveal their identity. But I will say, he spent an awful lot of time with them—lots and lots of late nights.” She shakes her head. “Sometimes I wondered if he preferred Mr. X to me. And at the end of the day, Mr. X was making him money. According to Roger, I was bleeding his bank account dry.” She pauses and hooks her gaze to mine once again. “So you really think someone poisoned Roger?”

“I’m pretty sure,” I say.

“Why would they do it on the first night of our trip?” She scoffs at the thought. “And while I was so riled up.” She shakes her head with a fury. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were trying to frame me.”

My mind swirls with the possibilities.

“Maybe they weren’t,” I say, even though I know full well they were. But I see no reason to incite a panic in Connie or send her off half-cocked. She is a self-proclaimed ticking time bomb, after all. “Why don’t you just forget about everything I just said and enjoy the rest of your evening? This is your last night on board the ship.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says, gazing out at the water once again. This time the tears stream a little faster. “And I might even disregard any anger I felt for Roger and remember the good times for a moment.”

“That sounds like a plan,” I say, giving her arm a pat as I practically pull Hank into a dark corner.

“Hank, you have to tell me everything you think might take this investigation to the finish line,” I pant out the words just as the duels get underway—with the supervision of the staff, that is.

The last thing we need is a mass slaughter on board.

Although, those shiny swords they’re using look as if they could double as Halloween props. I’m sure the blades are as dull as my suspect list at this point.

Hank growls my way, his eyes glowing a bright shade of green and those snakes attached to his face all hiss in tandem.

“I told ya all I know. Roger didn’t like the advice I gave him. I told him he never should have issued that Blackbeard’s concoction. And now look what good it did him. Sent him to an early grave.”

“And what sent you to an early grave?”

He glowers at me a moment too long. “The very same thing.”

“Hank, you were poisoned? Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know. I was at a party much like this one. There was a cast of thousands. I left early and crashed my car into a tree once the effect settled in. That was the end of my life on the planet.”

“I’m so sorry. Hank, did you have a disagreement with anyone at the party?”

“Not that night, but I had spent the entire week battling with Shepherd over the fact I didn’t want him even insinuating that Jolly Roger had a black market label.”

“With Shep?”

He nods. “He was adamant that we market it regardless of the way one would be able to procure it.”

“That’s interesting,” I say just as the man of the hour strides by and I don’t waste any time running to catch up with him. “Shep,” I say out of breath. “Do you remember the night you argued with Hank about Blackbeard’s Brew? You wanted to market it and he was dead set against it?”

Shep tips his nose to the sky. “Ah, yes. It was unfortunately the night he got in that accident.”

“Why were you so intent on marketing the stuff if Hank said not to do it?”

“It wasn’t me who was intent. Roger was the one spearheading it. But come to think of it, he wasn’t the one who suggested the marketing scheme either. I think Elsie was there. She’s the one who puts all these things together.” He motions to the party at hand. “She wanted it out on social media. I remember her saying that any marketing would help just to get it into the subconscious of our customers.”

I wince because those last few words sound as if I’ve heard them before.

“Anyway, I didn’t do it,” he continues. “But as it turns out, word of mouth worked just as well. That’s about the time Roger dreamed up Mr. X, and his lore sort of pulled Blackbeard’s Brew and the rest of the potions along. Elsie made sure that Roger talked about it extensively at each of these shindigs.”

“Word of mouth,” I say as the details begin to jump out at me. “Thank you,” I say. “I hope you have a good night.”

“You, too, Trixie,” he says, taking off into the crowd.

The pieces to the puzzle start falling into place, those blue drinks, that blue line of liquid on Roger’s lips, the blue perfume.

I rush back to Connie as she withers against the railing.

“I’m sorry, Connie, but I have to ask you one more question,” I say as I pant breathlessly. “The first night on the ship—did you ask someone to bring you a couple of cocktails, one for you and one for Roger?”

“Are you kidding?” she sniffs. “I would have paid someone not to.”

“I thought so,” I say. “One more question. What color is Blackbeard’s Brew?”

“Blue,” she grunts. “The same color of Roger Maxwell’s eyes.” She sighs out at the water.

Hank and I exchange a dark look.

I think we both know who the killer is.