Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
A fter dinner, Bess, Nettie, and I decided to head to the Emerald Theater and catch a Broadway-worthy performance of Waitress —the singing, the dancing, the pie references that left my stomach growling even after inhaling a seven-layer chocolate cake. It was magnificent from beginning to end.
“That was a treat and a half,” Bess says, stretching her arms above her head as the three of us step out of the theater along with the crowd. “It almost makes me forget there’s a killer on board.”
Nettie snorts. “Almost. But then I remember we’re sharing a ship with Stanton Troublefield, and I realize there are more dangerous things afloat than just a killer.” She gives me a sly grin. “I say we find a way to pin the murder on him and call it an early wedding present to you and the fed.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Now that would be a true gift. But you know how the fed feels about justice. He’s sort of a stickler about those things.”
It’s true, Ransom loves justice as much as he loves me, and I know both of those things all too well. Ransom is a retired FBI behavioral analyst, thus the fed title, and boy, is he one hot fed I can’t wait to bed.
I bite down on a goofy grin. I can’t help it. My wedding is just a week away, and that means Ransom and I get to share the rest of our lives together—and well, we finally get to share our bodies with one another, too.
We didn’t start out waiting for our wedding night, but it just sort of went in that direction and I’m glad about it, too. That will make our wedding night all that much more special.
“I’m all for pinning the murder on Stanton,” Bess says. “But I have a feeling the only thing Stanton is capable of killing is a good mood. And maybe a marriage, if you give him enough time.”
“Let’s face it, Trixie,” Nettie says, wrapping her arm through mine as we make our way to the casino with the sounds of slot machines and light laughter echoing from the entrance. “The rest of this cruise is going to be like one long, drawn-out episode of the Geriatric Bachelor with Stanton and his spray-tanned baggage tagging along.”
Bess snickers, falling in step beside us. “Except, instead of handing out roses, Stanton will be handing out delusions of grandeur.”
“And he’s full of them,” I grunt. “Something tells me I’m going to need more than champagne to get through the next few days with Stanton breathing down my neck. I’m thinking a tranquilizer dart might do the trick.”
Nettie perks up. “Do they serve those in the casino? Because I’m in.”
We share a quick laugh and the weight of the day is actually starting to feel a little lighter. It’s been a long, strenuous past couple of hours—murder tends to have that effect—and while I’m determined not to let it ruin my wedding cruise, I can’t deny the shadow it’s cast over the trip.
The three of us are just about to step into the buzzing casino when a couple of women cross in front of us. It’s Josie Coffee and Visalia Jones, both looking a little worse for wear. They’re wrapped up in conversation, but as luck would have it, they almost run smack into us.
“Oh,” I say, startled. “Josie, Visalia!”
They stop short, blinking at us as if trying to place who we are .
Then Josie’s face softens into a tired smile. “Yes, Trixie. Hi. Sorry about that. We weren’t paying attention.” Her dark hair is swept back and she’s still wearing that cream-colored power suit that makes her look so polished.
“No worries at all,” I say, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“Thank you.” Visalia nods, her eyes are glassy and she pulls a long tan sweater over her dress as she cuddles with it. “We’re just trying to cope. Honestly, we thought seeing a show might help take our minds off everything for a moment.” She gestures back to the theater. “It’s been a heck of a day.”
“A day?” Josie inches back and inspects her friend. “More like a year crammed into a few hours.” Her voice is dry, but there’s a crack to it—a fracture of emotion just beneath the surface.
Bess gives them a sympathetic smile. “It must be hard. We only just met Merritt this afternoon, but she seemed like she was quite the character.”
Visalia sniffles and gives a weak laugh. “That’s one way to put it. She was something else, all right. And she was really looking forward to taking this cruise. In fact, she would have loved that show, especially the parts about quasi-revenge. She always loved a good revenge story.”
Josie elbows her. “ Visalia .” She wrinkles her nose at her friend. “What she means is that Merritt always loved a happy ending. She was certainly trying to find hers.”
“Aren’t we all,” Bess says mournfully.
I give a solemn nod. “Well, I’m devastated for her. Merritt and I certainly had our ups and downs, but I can’t deny she was one of a kind. And I’m sure she’d want you two to try to enjoy yourselves.”
Josie purses her lips while glancing at Visalia. “I was telling Visalia we should get off the ship in the morning. We’re practically home—Brambleberry Bay isn’t far from Portland. I think it’s best if we just cut this trip short.”
Visalia shakes her head with a frown. “And I told you that’s ridiculous. Merritt wouldn’t want us to run away. She’d want us to see it through. Finish what we started. And honestly, I think we owe it to her. Didn’t you just say that Merritt loved a happy ending? She’d want us to have one of our own, and cutting the trip short wouldn’t be a part of it.”
Something about the way Visalia said “finish what we started” sends a shiver down my spine, but I let it go for now. It’s been a rough day for all of us. Rougher still if your name is Merritt Garrett.
“So,” I say, deciding to probe a little while I have them here. “How did you both end up on this cruise, anyway? Was this going to be a work trip?”
“The opposite, actually.” Josie glances at Visalia. “Merritt invited us. She had this idea that the three of us could bond while enjoying some R and R. She said she was after a fresh start in life and that this trip was going to mark her official second act. Something about second chances? She said it was time to let go of the past and move forward.”
“And she wanted us to help plot her next book,” Visalia adds quickly as if it were pertinent to the trip itself. “Merritt never did understand the tenants of rest and relaxation. She was sort of a workaholic.”
“I can see that,” Bess says. “The first thing she did when she met us was offer to put Nettie and me in one of her books.”
Nettie snaps her fingers with a forlorn expression on her face. “And just like that, we missed fame by a mile.”
“Try infamy ,” I say. “She wrote psychological thrillers. Who knows what devious deeds she would have had the two of you doing.”
“That’s probably true.” Josie laughs. “Merritt did like to stir the pot. In fact, she thrived on that. She liked to control the narrative, to make sure everyone else was always a little bit unsure. It was exhausting, honestly.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Visalia says with her voice softening. “Some days I was convinced she was starring in her own psychological drama. No one loved a plot twist more than Merritt.”
“I can testify to that firsthand.” I give a tight smile. “Heaven knows it was the plot twist of the century when I saw her walking up that gangway.” We share a quiet chuckle over that one. “If either of you need anything—even if it’s just someone to talk to—you know where to find us. We’re not going anywhere. ”
“Thanks, Trixie.” Josie gives a small smile, with her eyes a little glassy. “That means a lot.”
We part ways, and as we head into the casino, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more happening here than they’re letting on.
“So”—Nettie says, nudging me with her elbow—“what do you think? Are they hiding something, or is that just your overactive detective brain at work?”
I sigh as I scan the flashing lights of the slot machines. “I don’t know. But there are definitely pieces to this puzzle that we don’t have just yet. And the strangest thing of all is the fact there isn’t a ghost on the horizon to help us out. Maybe that’s the universe’s way of telling me that this case just isn’t for me to solve.”
“Ghost or no ghost.” Bess shrugs. “If this case doesn’t get solved, I have a feeling it’s going to come back to haunt us.”
“Now there’s an irony,” I say. “Whatever is happening, we’re all part of a story that Merritt Garrett started—and someone else is determined to finish.”
Something tells me that before this cruise is over, the truth will come out. And when it does, we’ll all be caught in the storm.
“Come on,” I say, forcing a smile as I tug Bess and Nettie toward the blackjack tables. “Let’s see if we can’t hunt down Lady Luck. I have a feeling we’re going to need her.”
We finish up at the blackjack tables, leaving with less change in our proverbial pockets than we came with.
I walk Bess and Nettie back to their rooms, and instead of heading to mine, my feet carry me to the elevator once again.
As much as I’d love to fall into a coma for the night, I can’t stop thinking about Merritt Garrett lying in the makeshift morgue on this ship. And for reasons unknown to me, that makes me hungry for some chocolate molten lava cake, a craving I can’t resist.
The elevator opens and the last person in the world I want to see is standing there with her dark hair neatly coiffed, a dark dress that shows off her never-ending curves, and a dark smile on her lips that lets me know she’s in the mood to spar. But I’m far too tired for any of the above. I step in and press the button required to land all of the lava cake I can eat into my stomach .
“You look like death warmed over,” she chirps and I about lose it.
“Not now, Merritt. I’ve had a bad day.” My eyes widen and my body straightens with a jolt as if I had just been electrocuted. “ Merritt? ” I look right at her and belt out a scream.
The witch is back.