Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
“ C aptain!” a wiry brunette howls while pulling along a timid-looking redhead and a blonde, and the blonde can’t seem to stop giggling. Behind them is an entire entourage of middle-aged women who look just as enthused to plant their feet on the ship. “If it isn’t our lucky day,” the brunette sings, turning to the women by her side. “It’s so nice to meet you, Captain. I’m Hetty King and these are a couple of my buddies that I’m traveling with. We’re actually part of a much bigger group because this one is getting hitched.” She nods to the blonde who only laughs harder. “The bride-to-be is my good friend Jennifer Mitchell, and next to her is my good friend Lucy Taylor.” She points to the blonde, and then the redhead respectively.
“You must be the bachelorette party.” Tinsley steps forward. “I’m Tinsley Thornton, the one you’ve been emailing with,” she says to Hetty and the brunette gasps with delight.
I can’t help but notice how bloated Hetty’s face looks. Judging by the fact it looks stiff and she has to work hard to smile, I’m guessing she’s loaded with filler in her cheeks. Her lips are puffy and swollen as well. And being the ex-wife of a top plastic surgeon, I can tell she spent her money at the wrong place. It’s a shame. She’s such a beautiful woman, too. I’m sure she didn’t need any of it.
“Tinsley!” Hetty throws her arms around the reticent cruise director as if they’ve been best friends for life. Tinsley isn’t exactly your touchy-feely type. In fact, some days I wonder if she has feelings at all. Or if she’s human in general.
“My goodness, yes!” Hetty goes on. “It’s so nice to meet you. Is the launch party all set to go?”
“What launch party?” the blonde bride-to-be looks suddenly suspicious.
She’s wearing a gorgeous white summer dress with eyelet trim around the edges, and it seems to highlight the pretty gold chain around her neck with the words My Girl written in cursive lettering. It’s cute and reminds me of the kind of jewelry I’ve given my daughter Abby on occasion.
Jennifer Mitchell is pretty, about my age, somewhere in her fifties, her blonde locks are down to her shoulders, as are mine, and her gray roots look as if they’re winning out, as are mine.
“Don’t you start.” Hetty quickly waves off her friend. “It’s just a little send-off with some cocktails and music. You didn’t think we were going to wait to start the party, did you?”
The timid redhead offers a consolatory smile to the blonde. “I told her to wait.”
“But I never listen to you,” the brunette howls with a laugh—albeit her face is frozen with a somewhat stoic expression. Clearly, fillers are not her friend.
“Yes, the Bachelorette Bonanza is all set.” Tinsley nods. “I’ve got a quarter of the lido deck marked off for you. In fact, the kickoff begins right after the muster drill.”
“The muster drill, aka the lifejacket shuffle, is sort of a necessary evil.” The captain winks their way and the three of them swoon. I’ll be the first to admit that our captain is swoon- worthy, but then so is Ransom, or Handsome Ransom as he’s better known.
Ransom leans in. “Did he just say lifejacket shuffle?”
I shrug up at him and nod. “The man has a sense of humor and he’s not afraid to show it off.”
Ransom nods. “We never said it was good.”
“Hetty, I feel so silly.” The blonde’s cheeks start to fill with color. “We don’t need to do any bachelorette parties. This isn’t exactly my first rodeo, you know.”
“Oh”—Tinsley straightens—“speaking of silly, we’ve got another silly goose on the loose about to hit the altar once again as if it were a bad habit.” She snatches me out of Ransom’s arms and lands me center stage. “This is our art director, Trixie Trouble. It sounds as if the two of you have some common enemies—i.e., state law and exes.”
“Funny.” I take a moment to shoot her a look before giving the blonde a bright smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, Jennifer.” I offer a hand and we shake. “I’m Trixie Troublefield, recently divorced, and even more recently engaged.” I hold up my left hand and we share a laugh.
“Then you have to come to my party.” Jennifer is quick to insist.
“I agree.” Hetty gives a vigorous nod. “There will be gourmet food, booze, questionably appropriate games, and the occasional table dance.”
“Okay, I’m in,” I say without hesitation. “You had me at food.”
“Then we’re in, too,” Nettie says, stepping up. “We’re a part of Trixie’s booze crew,” she says, linking arms with Bess. “We’re also known as the trio of fun.”
“Trio of terror is more like it,” Bess corrects—and she would be right. The three of us have caused more than a little terror both on and off the Emerald Queen .
“The more the merrier,” Hetty says. “We’ll see you ladies on the lido deck!” They take off and a whole group of women takes off following them. Another redhead lags behind, and judging by the look on her face, she looks good and miffed. I can’t blame her. The heat is on, the humidity is thick, and I’m guessing she could use an iced tea as well.
A man with a ball cap pulled low over his forehead steps onto the ship, with dark hair peeking out from the edges of his hat. I can’t help but notice he’s wearing a somber expression and looks as if he’s glowering at the crowd. Probably in search of his poor wife. He, too, looks overheated in a dress shirt and slacks. I certainly hope he’s prepared for the heat.
Honestly, half the people here look as if they’re headed to Alaska. This heat is dead serious and it’s not going anywhere. It’s also more than enough to make anyone dehydrated—me included.
“Speaking of libations,” I say, turning back to Ransom. “Hetty didn’t woo me with her talk of booze. I don’t drink—and for good reason.”
“So I’ve noticed. You do realize that’s made it exceptionally difficult to get you plastered.”
A laugh bubbles from me. “Try again. I do have champagne on occasion. You know I can’t resist that.” I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Tinsley is out of earshot, and lucky for me she’s already greeting the next batch of passengers. “Anyway, the real reason I don’t drink is because I’m afraid it’d make that unique little talent of mine a little more pervasive, and as it stands, one ghost is enough.”
Up until our last cruise, Ransom had no idea that I could see the dead. And up until a few months ago, neither did I. And for some reason, those ghosts always seem to be supernaturally tied to a homicide that’s just taken place.
He frowns my way. “You don’t see any now, do you?”
I give another quick look around and shake my head at him.
“Nope. All’s clear in the paranormal department. I suppose the Emerald Queen is all caught up on its hauntings.”
“Good,” he says, pulling me close once again. “Maybe, just maybe, we can enjoy one trip without a dead body getting in the way.” His phone chirps. “I’ve got a briefing I need to attend. I’ll try to catch you after the party.”
“Sounds good.”
We share a quick yet heated kiss and he takes off.
I turn to look for Bess or Nettie, but instead, a pretty brunette with a head full of dark curls catches my eye. She’s donned a fitted hot pink wool coat that cuts off at her thighs and she’s paired it with knee-high black patent leather boots with a decent spiked heel. But it’s not the wool coat or the boots that strike me as odd about her, especially in this heat. It’s the fact I can see right through her body.
It seems the Emerald Queen is due for another haunting after all.
She cranes her neck until she spots me, then offers me a cheerful wave and a brimming smile.
I’m about to wave back, albeit with much less enthusiasm, when she up and disappears in a spray of hot pink stars.
That woman is a ghost.
And ghosts only mean one thing around here.
There’s about to be a murder.