Page 28

CHAPTER 28

While Trixie’s Away, the Ship Will Play—The Elodie Edition

S alutations, ship sweethearts! While our lovebirds are busy reviewing surveillance footage (and really, who knew the security office could be so accommodating?), let’s untangle today’s relationship riddle.

Dear Elodie,

Help! I booked this cruise to rekindle things with my husband, but he’s spent more time at the poker table than with me. Last night he missed our dinner reservation because he was on a winning streak. I’m ready to throw him overboard. Advice?

Ready to Jump Ship

My neglected nautical goddess,

First of all, resist the urge to test his swimming abilities—the paperwork is absolutely brutal. Instead, let’s get creative with our attention-getting tactics.

Book yourself a window seat at the lido bar (the one with the spectacular view of the pool). Order something fancy with an umbrella. Then accidentally drop said umbrella. Repeatedly. You will be amazed how quickly a man’s poker face crumbles when his wife is being helped up by the very attentive pool boy.

Or perhaps try room service? Nothing says you’re missing out quite like having that gorgeous Italian waiter deliver breakfast in bed. Although I do recommend wearing something more substantial than the complimentary robe. Those breakfast trays can be surprisingly slippery.

Sailing seductively,

XOXO Elodie

P.S. And if he still doesn’t get the message, remember, the ship’s crew is very understanding about cabin reassignments. Just saying.

Trixie

The Sapphire Lounge beckons ahead, but my mind is still stuck on the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours.

After that yummy encounter with Ransom in the crew lounge, the evening continued in a rather pleasant pattern—such as a lovely lingering dinner with Ransom, Bess, and Nettie complete with that heavenly lava cake that makes me forget my own name and even my newly accrued surname.

We caught a musical at the theater, then made an appearance at the casino (where I managed not to lose my shirt, although later in our cabin was another story entirely—and more to the point, I lost my entire cocktail dress). And don’t think for a minute that Ransom and I didn’t enjoy the captain’s generous midnight buffet that was sent up to our honeymoon suite. It was a spread fit for a king and a queen—or ten or twenty. More lava cake was had—in ways that would have made Elodie blush.

And lastly, Ransom and I landed in that private hot tub on our balcony. The hours we spent soaking in the sweet heat proved particularly memorable, leading to some creative canoodling that would have made Sassy blush—if ghosts could blush. Speaking of our spectral chaperone, she made another appearance just as things were getting interesting, and this time she had the decency to disappear after minimal note-taking.

“Earth to Trixie.” Bess nudges me as we approach the Sapphire Lounge. It’s the very next afternoon and we’re heading straight for a sign that reads Welcome to the Whispers of the Wicked podcast at sea! A killer convention. “You’ve got that newlywed glow again,” Bess insists.

“More like that I finally got some alone time with minimal supernatural supervision glow,” I shoot back.

“Please,” Nettie snorts. “With a smile like that, I’d say you had plenty of supervision—of the Handsome Ransom variety.”

“You’re not wrong,” I sing.

The Sapphire Lounge has transformed from its usual cocktail hour elegance into something more deliberately dramatic. Crystal chandeliers glow above in the dimly lit room where the curtains have been drawn over the windows.

I’m guessing light and bright doesn’t exactly set the mood for a good conversation about a very horrible murder.

Both Bess and Nettie have dressed appropriately for the occasion—dark slacks and a light sweater for Bess and a lime green kaftan with pineapples printed all over it for Nettie.

Okay, so Nettie’s attire might turn an eye or two. Which happens to be what my current attire has me doing as well, no thanks to the navy sequin gown with a giant pink glittery bow that sits right over my keester. Elodie really does have a sense of humor. Have I mentioned the plunging neckline?

But I digress. Bodies swarm the room amidst the rows and rows of chairs lined up, all facing a makeshift stage up front. The sound of classical music bleeds through the speakers and the scent of sugar-sweet donuts and coffee hijacks our senses.

In fact, to the left there’s an entire buffet of every donut imaginable, from bear claws to eclairs, powdered donuts, to chocolate glazed and everything in between. Admittedly, the platter of powdered jelly donuts looks especially fitting for this morbid gathering, but delicious nonetheless. And don’t get me started on the scent of the fresh brewed coffee.

That’s the nice thing about this ship. You don’t have to go to one of the many fancy coffee shops or cafés on board to track down a decent cup of joe. And am I ever addicted to a decent cup of joe.

The effect of all things combined is more upscale book club than crime convention. However, the enthusiastic chatter about favorite cases suggests otherwise.

“Well, this is cozy,” Nettie says, eyeing both the donut-laden display table and the gathering crowd with equal interest. “But wow, I didn’t expect everyone to be dressed like they’re attending a funeral.”

“ Nettie .” Bess shoots her bestie a look. “Given recent events?—”

“I see the three musketeers have arrived,” Bess is cut off by a familiar curt voice coming from behind—one we’re all too familiar with.

We turn to find Tinsley wearing another naval-inspired pantsuit, but this one somehow manages to look even more militant than yesterday’s. And floating alongside of her is a rather stunning redheaded ghost in a dress that matches her glowing locks. Come to think of it, her entire countenance is giving off a red-hot lava effect.

“Four musketeers,” I correct without thinking. Sassy floats beside me, preening like the queen she is in a polka-dot dress that would make any pin-up girl jealous.

“Four?” Tinsley’s eyebrow arches so high it might need oxygen. “Are you actually counting me in that number?”

“Nope.” Nettie laughs at the thought. “She’s counting your ego. It’s large enough to be its own person.”

Tinsley snarls my way—and I didn’t even make the snide comment. But let’s face it, Nettie isn’t wrong.

“Speaking of big egos,” Tinsley sniffs. “I gather you’re all here to investigate rather than socialize.”

“Multi-tasking is a thing,” I remind her.

“Yeah,” Nettie says. “Some of us can nibble on a donut and solve a murder at the same time,” she adds, already eyeing the refreshment table.

More like inhale a donut or two or a dozen. But who could blame us? The pastry chefs on this ship don’t mess around, and we’re always eager to applaud their efforts by way of gobbling down their wares. It’s the highest compliment we can give them.

“Speaking of the investigation”—Nettie says, craning her neck past Tinsley—“this lounge is chock-full of suspicious characters and suspicious behavior.”

Tinsley rolls her eyes. “The only suspicious behavior I’ve spotted so far is your newfound obsession with deep-fried desserts.”

Before Nettie can defend her dedication to deep-fried everything, Elvie glides over in a flowing black dress that makes her look more like a grieving goddess than your standard widow. Her short hair sits in neat coils and her ruby-red lipstick looks a bit harsh for her creamy complexion. And judging by those bags under her eyes, she hasn’t been getting much sleep.

Although I’m guessing fresh grief does that to a person.

Her warm smile seems genuine enough as she closes in on us. Her perfume reaches us before she does and it holds the scent of a strong floral tea.

“Hello, ladies,” she says in a cheerful tone. “I’m so glad you could all make it.” She gives my arm a light tap as she says it. “I was so hoping you’d come. Reed and I have some interesting topics planned for today’s discussion. And that way you’ll get to see firsthand what Brad dedicated his life to.”

“We can’t wait,” I tell her.

“Great,” she says as she clasps her hands together and an entire sleeve of gold bangles race to her wrist. “We’re covering some of Brad’s favorite cases today. The ones that really got under his skin.”

Sassy snorts at the thought. “Oh honey, if she only knew what really got under his skin. Technically, that would be her, seeing that he was having an affair.”

I can’t help but frown. That man was a cad through and through. But despite the fact, I’ve got a case to solve and a sassy ghost to shove back into the Nethersphere so I can get on with my honeymoon.

The lights blink on and off a few times as Reed Williams calls the room to order and both he and Elvie head for the raised platform in the front of the room that acts as a makeshift stage. His thick, dark locks are neatly combed back and he’s wearing a black leather blazer with matching leather pants. He looks sophisticated in a crime-solving junkie slash wannabe biker sort of way, and it’s a look that works on him.

“There’s my man.” Sassy sighs as everyone, including us, rushes to our seats. “Isn’t he just delicious?”

I make a face at the drooling vixen. “Those donuts look delicious to me,” I say just as a familiar face turns around.

“I thought that was you.” Becky Lee gives a little laugh before nodding past the dessert table. “My husband is over there setting up the merchandise we’ve brought along for Brad and Elvie.” She winces a little as she says Brad’s name. She’s traded her usual cardigan for a sleeveless blouse that shows off her nicely toned arms. “You’ll get a chance to see my work, up close and personal.”

“We can’t wait,” Bess tells her.

Nettie nods in agreement. “I’m going to load up until my arms beg to fall off. It’s going to be murder.” She winks over at Becky Lee and we all share a light laugh.

Reed takes the small stage area with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how good you look in black leather.

Elvie joins him and her grace masks any nerves, grief, or apprehension she might be feeling.

It’s showtime.