Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
W hat the heck keeps happening on the Emerald Queen indeed.
The second the last word leaves Emerson’s lips, it’s like the floodgates burst wide open. Every single one of the kids speaks at once with voices overlapping in a cacophony of questions that range from “Is the ship cursed?” to “Do we have a serial killer on board?” to “Oh my gosh, are you telling me the Emerald Queen is haunted?!”
Haunted .
If they only knew. Not only is the ship haunted these days, but I’m sort of haunted myself.
I sit up a little straighter in my seat. In all the excitement of heading to Brambleberry Bay, I’d almost completely forgotten about Merritt Garrett’s ghostly appearance last night. Well, not entirely forgotten—it’s hard to forget when the woman is floating around the ship, as iridescent as a neon jellyfish and twice as cranky—but I certainly hadn’t planned on announcing her return to the land of the living over lobster bisque and cocktails here at the country club. And I’d like to keep it that way.
Among us, only Bess, Nettie, Wes, and Ransom know about my little supernatural foible, and if I can help it, I’d like to keep the number of people in that club on the low side.
If I had thought of it, I would have mentioned Merritt on the ride over, but then I know exactly what the topic of conversation will be on the way back.
“The ship isn’t haunted,” Wes calls out above the noise, doing his best to get a word in edgewise. “I mean, not in the traditional sense,” he begins, but that only seems to egg the kids on further.
“Oh, so non-traditionally haunted?” Parker lifts a brow in amusement. “Sounds like something I’d hear in one of my media theory classes. Next, you’re going to say it’s haunted by the ghosts of modern-day capitalism.”
“ Ooh ”—Abbey wiggles her shoulders—“a ghost who likes to spend money. And with the government we have, they’d be thrilled the economy is being stimulated by either the living or the dead.”
“That is funny,” I say.
Ransom sighs while shooting Wes a look. “It’s not haunted,” he says, rather firmly. And I’ll admit, there’s something about the firm tone that sends me to all the right places. “There’s nothing supernatural going on right now—at least not that we’re aware of.” He shoots me a quick look, a look that I pretend not to notice as I busy myself taking a sip of my iced tea.
On second thought, it’s a good thing I didn’t say a word about Merritt Garrett’s disembodied spirit roaming around the ship. At least this way, Ransom is one hundred percent telling the truth—his truth, but still.
“And as for a serial killer?” Wes sighs himself, looking more than a little exasperated by the killer subject at hand. “There may have been a few incidents over the past year, but I can assure you, we’re not dealing with some sort of Jack the Ripper on the high seas.” He slices a glance my way as if to ask if we are, and I discreetly shake my head to assure him otherwise.
“We’re not dealing with some sort of Jack the Ripper yet ,” Bess deadpans, giving me a sly smile. “I’d keep an eye on Trixie, though. She has a way of attracting the Grim Reaper.”
Nettie snorts. “You mean she has a way of attracting ghosts,” she says, and I give her a sharp nudge under the table with my foot. She jolts in her seat. “Did I say that out loud?”
We all share a laugh, and I’m thankful my reality provided the comic relief and not an open inquisition and perhaps a visit to a psychiatric unit by way of my children.
Thankfully, the arrival of our appetizers gives us all something else to focus on. The plates are plentiful, overflowing with deliciousness in true Seabreeze fashion—buttery lobster bisque topped with a dollop of cream, shrimp cocktail so fresh I’m surprised it didn’t wriggle off the plate, smoked salmon tartare with capers, and an antipasto platter with enough cured meats and cheeses to feed an entire cruise ship.
My stomach growls in appreciation, and I’m almost certain I catch a flash of approval in Ransom’s eyes as he watches me dig in.
That’s another stark difference between Ransom and Stanton.
Ransom enjoys sharing meals with me and never discourages me from having seconds or thirds, whereas Stanton would threaten my access to credit cards and the keys to my own car if I so much as looked in the direction of a chocolate cake.
Ransom treasures things like virtues, and Stanton treasures the superficial—most likely because he’s superficial himself.
“So,” Abbey begins, pausing to take a sip of her sparkling water before setting her gaze firmly on me. “How’s it going on the ship with Dad? I mean, considering all things.” She gestures vaguely, and I know she’s referring to both Merritt’s untimely demise and the awkwardness that comes with being stuck on a boat with my ex-husband and his midlife crisis mistress.
“Oh, it’s been just peachy,” Nettie chimes in before I have the chance to respond. “Stanton’s already made a donkey of himself at least three times. Maybe four, if we count his ridiculous outburst during second seating dinner last night.” She turns to Abbey. “Picture this—Stanton, trying to pick a fight with Ransom over the main course. I swear, I thought he was going to have a stroke when he saw Trixie and Ransom sharing a kiss.”
“The kiss was worth it.” I shrug and everyone laughs.
“Don’t worry, Mom.” Parker nods my way. “I’m going to keep Dad in line. I promise you, he’s not going to ruin your wedding.”
“That’s so nice of you. Thank you. But I’m not too worried about your dad ruining anything just yet,” I say, shooting a glance at Ransom. “Between Ransom and Wes, I think we’ve got more than enough security to handle any more ex-husband-related mishaps.”
Nettie lifts a finger. “And if that doesn’t keep him in line, I’ll dig up some sort of dirt on him. There’s nothing like a little blackmail to keep a man in line. Ask me how I know.”
“ Do tell ,” Abbey and Emerson practically shout in unison.
“Please don’t,” Bess says, plucking at Nettie’s elbow. “The last thing these girls need is a lesson on how to get yourself thrown into the pokey. And believe me, girls, that’s exactly where this little ditty she’s dying to tell you led her. Which I’m sure she was going to leave out of the story.”
Nettie waves her off before leaning toward her newfound audience who seems to be sitting at rapt attention. “We’ll talk later, girls. And I would never leave out the part about my time in the pokey. That’s where the real fun began.”
The main courses arrive, and the sight alone is enough to make me swoon—seared scallops for me, drizzled with lemon butter and served alongside roasted fingerling potatoes and asparagus.
Both Wes and Ransom have a perfectly cooked filet mignon, Parker opted for the lobster ravioli, while both Abbey and Emerson are diving into a dish of pan-seared salmon with a bright citrus glaze. Nettie has the shrimp scampi, and Bess has chosen a risotto that smells so good I’m tempted to swipe a bite.
Emerson leans forward, her blue eyes sparkling as she glances between Ransom and me. “Okay, I need details on this homicide. What can I say, I’m headed to law school. I’m going to be building a career on details like this.” She lifts a shoulder our way. “What exactly happened? I mean, I know there was a homicide, but what went down?”
Ransom sighs as his expression turns serious. “The woman was found in her cabin, strangled. There were no signs of forced entry, and the investigation is still ongoing. But we’re doing everything we can to figure out who did it. And that’s all I’ve got.”
Nettie huffs a little laugh. “Speaking of details, you’re leaving out the most important one. When Trixie walked in, she didn’t just see her archenemy, Merritt Garrett, lying dead on the floor— she saw her blonde, spray-tanned replacement standing over the woman’s body.”
“That’s right. Neelie Holiday was in the room.” Abbey shakes her head. “I still can’t believe it.”
I nod.
Emerson, Abbey, and Parker all look equally shocked by the revelation as if it were fresh news to them.
“Wait…” Parker winces. “Did you say Merritt Garrett?” His voice is tinged with a hint of disbelief. “As in M.J. Garrett, the author?”
“One and the same,” I say, nodding. “She was on the cruise.” I leave out the part of Stanton arranging it that way in hopes to make the trip extra miserable for me. His presence is misery enough.
“No way,” Abbey whispers, her eyes widening. “She’s one of my favorite authors. I can’t believe she’s—” She sucks in a quick breath. “I guess that means no more new novels from her either. I wouldn’t have thought anyone could take her down. Her books are so…”
“ Intense ,” Emerson finishes for her. “She wrote some pretty dark stuff. Honestly, you’d think she, of all people, would be somewhat prepared for something like this. I wouldn’t think there was anyone in the world who could hold her down, let alone kill her.”
I swallow down a mouthful of scallops as my thoughts drift back to the elevator and Merritt’s ghostly hissy fit.
The other side couldn’t hold her down, and something tells me neither will this murder investigation. Merritt is determined to see this through, and apparently, she’s dragging me along for the ride.
“Do you think someone was after revenge?” Abbey asks.
Parker shrugs. “They say sex, money, and power are the only true motivators for murder. Revenge fits nicely under power.”
“Maybe she knew something?” Emerson suggests. “And that’s what landed her in the morgue.”
“Maybe so,” Ransom says. “And if that’s true, then one thing is for certain. Whatever Merritt knew, it may have gotten her killed.” He offers me a stern look. “And if we’re not careful, they might just come after us, too.”
I nod his way because the message was fully received. Ransom wants me to steer clear of his investigation—for my own safety, of course.
But I know one thing for certain myself. Merritt Garrett’s ghost isn’t going anywhere until justice is served.
That’s the trouble with the ghosts I meet—they always seem to want revenge themselves.