Page 8

CHAPTER 8

R ansom and I sit out on the lido deck just outside the Blue Water Grill, the one and only twenty-four-hour buffet on the ship. The sun is shining, the sea is sparkling, and the scent of bacon and coffee warms our senses.

It’s the very next morning after the homicide and we’ve decided to forgo a formal breakfast and catch some fresh air along with the other passengers—mostly because I couldn’t stomach the fact Sassy was logging every moment of my private escapades with Ransom as if she were about to be quizzed on my husband’s smooth yet sexy moves.

Believe me, with all that proverbial copious note-taking, she would have aced it.

And despite passing up breakfast in the formal dining hall, that didn’t stop me from wearing a navy off-the-shoulder dress with a white furry faux mink stole. That’s because Elodie all but stole my street clothes.

I would have worn the same sweats I had on last night, but they ended up in a puddle of champagne in the middle of the night.

Don’t ask.

Just know there were bubbles involved and a good time was had by all—Sassy and my sweatsuit included. I’ve always been one to include everybody in the room when it comes to a good party, even if that everybody happens to be a ghost with voyeuristic tendencies. I’m far too nice that way.

The autumn breeze whips across the deck, sending passengers scurrying to wrap their robes tighter over their bathing suits. The Atlantic stretches out before us with steely waves crashing against the ship as the Emerald Queen makes her way toward England.

In just over a week’s time, we’ll be docking in a brand-new country, on a brand-new continent—and better yet, reuniting with my son Parker, who happens to be finishing up his master’s degree there.

And equally as great is the fact that Ransom’s daughter Emerson, who happens to be dating Parker, is planning to meet us there as well. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, because that timeframe will land us right at Christmas. The thought alone warms me more than my pumpkin spice latte.

Speaking of breakfast yum-yums, Ransom and I have loaded up two plates each worth of goodies from the buffet—Belgian waffles swimming in maple syrup, eggs Benedict dripping with hollandaise sauce, bacon so crispy that it shatters upon impact, fresh fruit glistening with morning dew—or more to the point, sugary syrup—and pastries that could make a French chef cry. And yes, two pumpkin spice lattes brimming with whipped cream because we may be investigating a murder, but we’re not savages.

“What have you found?” Ransom asks between bites of his waffle as both of our laptops compete for space with the culinary feast we’ve laid out.

“Nothing yet,” I tell him, scrolling through another dead end. “How about you?”

“Just a few basic things about his business. Apparently, Brad ran and operated a few haunted houses with Reed Williams. His wife has her own business, a successful cosmetics company—Luscious and Delicious—and Brad was the star of his own macabre podcast. But you knew all of that.”

I did because I was the first to clue him in on it last night. I also told him who that rhinestone brooch belonged to that he discovered next to the body. Let’s just say it’s not looking so good for Elvie so far. Everyone knows the spouse is the first to be a suspect—and most likely the killer, too.

I’m about to say something regarding the woman in question when a shadow darkens our table and Wes suddenly plops down in the seat across from us, his navy uniform looks crisp and pristine despite the fact he had a rather frazzled night.

“Captain,” Ransom scowls. “How nice of you to join us uninvited. On our honeymoon no less.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Wes ticks his head to the side. “Trixie, I want you to help me keep your new husband in line. I’ve officially dismissed him from Brad Whipple’s homicide case. I’m taking over.”

Both Ransom and I stare at him as if he’s just announced he’s trading his captain’s hat for a rainbow wig and a shiny red ball that sits on the tip of his nose. He’d have better luck with that. Wes really does have a way of making people laugh. Like now. Only there’s nothing funny about it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, stealing a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie from Ransom’s plate. “I’m already on top of things. I’ve spoken with the security staff and we have video from the Neptune Lounge.”

“You do?” I ask, both excited and relieved.

“He doesn’t,” Ransom is quick to correct. “All of the cameras are set up in the front of the lounge and they face the back, the opposite direction of where the crime was committed. I reviewed the footage before I called it a night. There’s no damning evidence there.”

Wes shakes his head. “That will be up to me and the rest of the security team to determine. Ransom, what part of I-don’t-need-you-to-fill-this-role don’t you understand? You have a beautiful, gorgeous, one-of-a-kind new wife that you should be spending some serious alone time with.”

Ransom growls at Wes, and I’m guessing he’s not amused by all of the kind adjectives. It’s safe to say that Wes was crushing hard for a while. And some feelings may still linger.

Wes sighs. “The last thing you need to be doing is interrogating suspects.” He nods my way. “Trixie, just for the record, had you married me, I would have happily found another captain to take my place for the duration of our honeymoon.”

“ Aww ,” I coo and Ransom’s eyes widen in my direction before he scowls twice as hard at Wes.

“Okay, we get it.” Ransom shakes his head at Wes. “You’re willing to play the part of hero all the way around. But what you’re forgetting is that Quinn is hurt. She was the only other qualified officer to handle this case. That leaves me. And I took a position where I promised to keep the passengers on this ship safe—that includes my wife.”

A spike of heat bisects my stomach when he calls me his wife. I can’t help it, the title is still new, and—oh, who am I kidding? That will never get old.

“Ransom,” Wes growls.

“Wes,” Ransom growls back. “I’m the trained professional here. Need I remind you I was in the FBI and I’m a licensed private detective. The rest of my men are prolific in nothing more than nabbing a shoplifter. There is a killer on this ship, in the event you’ve forgotten. They are dangerous. They’ve already ended one life. What’s to say they won’t end another? What’s to say it won’t be your life on the line once you start sniffing around?”

Wes tips his head back and closes his eyes. “Let me work with you, then. At least that way there’s a chance of catching them twice as fast. Quinn was medevacked off the ship this morning. I’m all you got.”

I clear my throat. “I may have apprehended the last almost dozen killers we’ve had on the Emerald Queen . With a little help from you, of course.” I nod in Ransom’s direction.

“Hear that?” Wes chuckles. “It was a little help. Very little, if I recall correctly.”

“Not even true by a longshot,” Ransom counters as he looks my way. “You apprehended them all on your own, Trixie. I would never try to take credit for that. I was simply there to land them in cuffs.” He sighs hard. “You’re good at what you do. Wes and I both know that. But Wes and I both want you safe as well.”

I sniff at the thought. “Believe me, I’d like to remain safe as can be.” I run my finger over the rim of my coffee mug. “And since my safety and that of the passengers is on the line, why don’t you two let me in on your investigation? Going along with your point, Wes, with the three of us working together we might just solve this case three times as fast. What could be better than that?”

Ransom frowns. “Me—going at it alone.”

Wes shakes his head. “You mean me working with you.”

“Don’t forget me,” I say, raising a hand slightly.

Ransom’s phone pings and he sighs at the screen. “I’ve gotta run. There’s an entire slew of messages piling up from the local authorities.” He tips his head toward Wes. “I’ll need you to speak with a few of the investigators with me.”

“I’m all yours,” he tells him.

Ransom lands a kiss on my lips. “And I’m all yours as soon as I’m done. Try not to nab a killer without me.”

I cross my heart with a laugh.

“Speaking of killers”—Wes says as they both rise from their seats—“have any apparitions appeared ready to toss their ghostly hat in the ring when it comes to solving this thing?”

An entire reel of last night’s supernatural surveillance flashes through my mind, complete with Sassy’s running commentary and enthusiastic applause. She really does know how to cheer us on at just the right moments.

“We’ll talk later,” I say, wrinkling my nose as they both take off with a wave.

I glance around the deck and there’s no sign of Sassy anywhere.

Figures.

Ransom and I must have exhausted her ghostly energy reserves.

Not shocking, considering the rather acrobatic performance that went on for hours.

I’m about to take another bite of a waffle when Bess and Nettie stop short at my table.

“Well, well,” Bess muses with a grin. “Look who’s vertical again.”

“And dressed to kill,” Nettie adds with a wink. “Although I would have stayed horizontal if I were you.”

“Very funny,” I say. “Ransom is busy. Why don’t you join me?”

“We were just on our way to enjoy a bite ourselves,” Bess says as they land at the table, and the three of us make short work of both my breakfast and Ransom’s abandoned plate.

“So where are we headed?” I ask, watching the last of my waffle disappear. “The formal dining room?”

It’s our tradition to have first breakfast here and second breakfast there. There’s just something about fine china and white tablecloths that makes gluttony feel downright sophisticated.

“We’re headed to the Luscious and Lethally Delicious Beauty Brunch,” Bess says as she takes a sip from Ransom’s pumpkin spice latte and moans with approval. “Elvie Whipple’s team is hosting their big beauty shindig. Apparently, it was all planned before that man’s unfortunate demise. I hear it’s going to be glam and carbs all rolled into one. What could be better?”

My mouth falls open. A soirée hosted by my top suspect? Heck, she’s my one and only suspect. With a focus on beauty and food? Now that’s what I call the breakfast of champions.

“I hope you don’t mind if I crash the party,” I say innocently. “You know I’m all about glam and carbs these days.”

Nettie gives a dark laugh. “We know exactly what you’re up to these days. Some hot and heavy time with your honey, and some hot and heavy time with a killer or two.”

“You do know me well,” I say with a curve of my lips.

I’m willing to bet Elvie Whipple will be at that event. And now so will I.

After all, nothing pairs better with murder than a mid-morning makeover. It’s time to see what secrets are hiding behind all that luxury lipstick and that killer smile of hers.

And if the last locale of that sparkly brooch is any indication—Elvie Whipple might be a killer indeed.