Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
T he sight of Lucy Taylor’s lifeless body sends a jolt of horror through me, and I can’t help but let out a scream. Bess and Nettie join in, and soon our little impromptu choir is echoing down the corridor—and I’m pretty sure the entire deck.
My heart pounds as we take in the grisly scene before us. Poor Lucy lies on her side with a knife protruding from her back and her mouth locked in what looks like a silent scream.
“Let me at ’em,” Nettie says as she leaps over the body and runs into the heart of the tiny interior cabin.
“What are you doing?” I howl in horror.
“Oh my goodness,” Bess gasps, her face white as a sheet. “ Would you get out of there! You could be destroying potential evidence!”
“Would you two keep it down?” Nettie steps farther into the room as if our words actually spurred her on. “I’m looking for the killer. Or a ghost of the killer,” she says. “Or a ghost who can point the way to the killer.”
“I’d say she was losing it.” Bess sighs hard. “But she might be right.”
I shake my head, trying my hardest to stay focused. “Nettie, there’s no ghost in there. If there was, I’d be the first to see it. Bess is right. You need to get out before you destroy something that could potentially help find the killer.”
Nettie treks back and looks down at the body before stopping short. “Well, I may not have found the killer or a ghost, but I sure found something.” She points to the other side of Lucy’s body, and without thinking, and clearly, without my better judgment intact, I hop over the body and land next to Nettie. I squint my eyes to see what she’s pointing at and gasp.
“It’s that cheesy necklace,” I shout a touch too loud.
“What cheesy necklace?” Bess squawks as she leans in as far as the body on the ground will allow.
“Well, the necklace itself isn’t cheesy, it’s what it says.” I wince because I didn’t mean to say any of that out loud. “It’s the one Jennifer was wearing. It reads My Girl .”
Both Bess and Nettie are back to gasping.
“That means Jennifer is the killer!” Nettie claps her hands together as if the case were solved.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m not pointing any fingers just yet.”
Bess cocks her head and squints at the woman. “What is the poor woman’s blazer covered in? Is that pink glitter?”
Now it’s me gasping again. “The only thing covered with pink glitter tonight was Jennifer’s sash.” I shake my head. “Okay, obviously, they must have hugged.” Although that argument I saw them having suggests otherwise. “We’d better call Ransom.”
And I do just that. It seems that no sooner do I text for help than Ransom and Wes both come running down the hall. In fact, they were so quick to respond, Nettie and I haven’t even had a chance to get out of the room just yet.
“What’s going on?” Ransom says sharply before glancing down and closing his eyes for a moment.
“ Geez ,” Wes grunts as he spots the knife.
“What happened?” Ransom growls.
“We were just walking back to our cabin to get ready for dinner when we saw a shoe sticking out of the door,” I say. “And well”—I shrink an inch—“there was sort of a body attached to the shoe. This is Lucy Taylor. She’s here with that bachelorette party. Someone must have stabbed her and took off.”
Before either of them can respond, the hoofbeats of what sounds like a thousand horses trample this way and it’s the rest of the security team along with Quinn Riddle, Ransom’s partner in vessel security.
Quinn is tall, about my age, and her skin is deathly pale, some might say blue. Her frown is permanently painted brick red, and her dark hair is always spun into a bun so tight it gives her an inadvertent facelift.
Fun fact: My ex, Stanton, the renowned plastic surgeon to the almost-stars, always suggested a tight bun or a ponytail to those who couldn’t afford his youth-enhancing services. Hand to heaven, I’ve utilized this technique more times than I’m willing to admit.
“What in the name of all things sacred is happening now?” Quinn leans past Wes and takes a look for herself. Her expression hardens to stone once she sees the body. She’s not amused, and frankly, neither am I.
“There was an accident,” Bess says, shrugging my way.
“There was a murder,” Nettie gravels as if she were proud.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. This seems to be a pattern with you, Troublefield,” Quinn riots as she looks to Wes and Ransom. “Can’t you two see that this woman is somehow responsible for the rash of homicides this ship has seen in the past year? Not a single dead body had turned up before she stepped on board the Emerald Queen , and now not only do we have homicide after homicide as if it were a contagion, but she’s front and center every single time another body gets discovered,” she growls as she turns her full ire on Ransom. “You and I are going to have one long talk once we clean up this mess.” She turns to Wes. “Captain, I implore you to have all three of these women removed from the scene at once.” She looks at Bess, Nettie, and me. “I’m putting you all on notice. You are at the top of my suspect list. For all I know, the three of you think it’s some fun game to go around mowing people down, then blaming it on others. And if that’s true, that stops today.”
“ Quinn .” Ransom’s voice is loud and sharp. “I will not have you speaking to any of these women that way. You are correct, we will be having one long talk once we take care of this poor woman. But I won’t have you intimidating, accusing, or abusing anyone in this room if you’re to continue to work with me. Got it?”
Quinn’s lips twitch as she bores into him with all the venom she’s capable of. And knowing Quinn, that’s quite a lot. A den of vipers would be proud of her efforts.
“Got it,” she seethes. “Troublefield, don’t you dare meddle in my case. Now if you’ll excuse me”—she takes a moment to glare my way—“I’m going to talk to the rest of the security staff for a moment so we can prepare to remove the body from the cabin.” She steps back out and does just that while both Wes and Ransom shift their attention my way.
“We had nothing to do with this,” I say with my hands rising spontaneously as if it were a stick-up.
“Trixie, I’ll be honest, the optics don’t look good.” Ransom sighs. “The best thing you can do is stay as far away from this case as possible. Enjoy the cruise and leave the investigation to my team and me.”
Wes nods. “I’m in agreement with that. I need to head to the bridge and speak with the port authorities. Bess, Nettie, please heed Ransom’s words.” He looks my way and blows out a breath. “I’d tell you to keep out of the case, but I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Finally”—Nettie grouses—“someone with some common sense.”
He helps Nettie step over the body and escorts both her and Bess into the hall, leaving just Ransom and me with a body between us.
“Trixie,” he says mournfully, his blue eyes pinned to mine.
“I saw a ghost right after we split ways this afternoon,” the words speed out of me as if they were the answer to some horrible riddle—a Quinn Riddle.
His eyes widen a notch. “You should have contacted me immediately. I would have beefed up security. We may have been able to avoid something like this.”
“I guess we’ll know next time.”
“Next time?” His voice hikes an octave as if he were horrified—as he probably should be. “There shouldn’t be a next time.”
“There shouldn’t be.” I shrug. “You’re right.” My head floods with a flurry of thoughts. “Maybe Quinn is right. Maybe I’m the deadly factor here. Maybe if I’m not here, the passengers will be a whole lot safer.”
He inches back as the concern on his face deepens.
“Trixie, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe I should leave the ship.”
Ransom closes his eyes once again and pulls me in tight. His facial scruff rubs over my cheek as he moves his lips to my ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”
A sizzle of heat spirals through my stomach and right up into my solar plexus in the very best way.
I’m pretty sure having a heated moment with your new fiancé while a body lies at your feet isn’t the most romantic notion in the world.
It’s wrong.
So many things about this are wrong.
Face it, if I stay, I’m only going to rack up a body count.
And how I wish I were wrong.
I may not be right about a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure I’m right about that.