Chapter 15 #2
Ransom would not be thrilled.
Our camera crew sets up at a discreet distance, while Bess, Nettie, Tinsley, and Elodie are positioned as casual tourists admiring the view—safe and on land.
“Trixie,” Harper says suddenly, her voice lower than before, “what do you know about Madison’s death?”
The abrupt change in topic catches me off guard, and I glance to the left to see a camera trained on us from afar, and I know full well they can hear every word. “Only that someone stuck a knife in her chest.”
“And that you found her body.” She gives a dark smile that lets me know she’s not above pinning this catastrophe on me.
“It was an unfortunate coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Harper says, opening her notebook and turning it toward me. “I believe in patterns. Remember?”
She holds the book open my way, and my eyes quickly scan it. The pages reveal a meticulously documented timeline of events surrounding Madison’s death, including detailed observations about each trophy wife’s whereabouts, statements, and suspicious behaviors.
“Hey, you’ve really been investigating,” I say, scanning the pages with growing interest.
“Madison Rothschild was many things—shallow, manipulative, opportunistic—but she was also methodical in her own way,” Harper explains, her voice still low enough that the microphones won’t catch it. “She collected secrets like trading cards.”
“What kind of secrets?” I whisper back.
“The kind people kill for.” Harper flips to another page, revealing a detailed entry about Beth Williams. “Your sugar sweet friend, for instance. Did you know that before she married Lance Williams, she worked as a pharmaceutical researcher? Specializing in toxicology.”
“Beth?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. “But she seems so...”
“Harmless?” Harper raises an eyebrow. “That’s her greatest asset.”
“What about the others?” I ask, glancing at Val’s entry, which contains multiple question marks around her charity finances.
“Everyone had a reason to want Madison gone,” Harper says. “She was planning to use their secrets as leverage for her own advantage in the show and beyond. She had dirt on all of us.”
“Including you?”
Harper’s expression hardens. “My past is complicated. Madison discovered certain... let’s just call them irregularities in my previous business ventures. Nothing illegal, but potentially damaging to my current investments.”
“So you had motive, too,” I point out.
“Everyone did.” Her brows hike. “The question is, who had opportunity and means?” Harper reaches into her designer glasses case and extracts a tiny USB drive. “Madison wasn’t just collecting rumors. She was gathering evidence.”
“What’s on that?” I ask, eyeing the USB.
“Recordings,” Harper says. “Madison secretly recorded conversations with all of us. She was going to use them as leverage to ensure she was the star of the show. I found this hidden in her luggage when the production crew was clearing out her cabin.”
I gasp a little at the thought. “Harper, that’s tampering with evidence,” I point out.
“It’s protecting multiple people from unnecessary scandal,” Harper counters. “Until I determine who actually killed her.”
Before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts through our conversation. “What a charming little tête-à-tête!”
Val saunters onto the platform, dressed head-to-toe in lacquered cherry red, glowing against the mountain backdrop like a luxury-brand emergency flare. “Harper, honey, are you boring poor Trixie with your statistics again?”
“We were just discussing the engineering marvel of this platform,” Harper lies smoothly, slipping the USB drive back into the case for her glasses. “The sheer fact we’re not falling to the ground is fascinating.”
Fascinating to her, terrifying for me.
“Well….” Val’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “You two seemed awfully intense for a conversation about architecture.”
“Some of us find intelligence stimulating,” I say with a snippy smile gliding up my cheeks.
“As opposed to, say, charitable fraud?” I can’t believe I went there!
On the plus side, I’m really getting the hang of this.
Who knew I had a catty side to me? I blame the near-death experience I’m currently locked into.
Val’s perfectly contoured face freezes solid. “Excuse me?” Her eyes sweep up and down my body with the look of utter disdain.
“We’re just making conversation,” I say innocently.
Marlie glides between us. “Watch out for Red Riding Hood here,” she warns. “She’s got her claws out, and she’s not afraid to use them.”
Val steps closer, her designer hiking boots making a menacing tap on the glass floor, and suddenly, I’m fearing for the so-called structural integrity of this platform.
“You know, Trixie,” Val leans my way with a devilish gleam in her eyes, “accidents happen all the time on these tourist attractions.” She pokes a finger in my chest, and I inch back until I hit the railing.
“People get too close to the edge, they lose their balance...” Her gaze shifts to Harper.
“Especially people who don’t know when to keep their mouths shut. ”
“Is that a threat, Val?” Harper laughs in the woman’s face.
“Just an observation,” Val shoots back with a smile that could cut granite. “I’m very observant. For instance, I observed you taking something from Madison’s cabin after she died.”
I gasp, and Harper slices me with a look that could definitely kill.
Harper’s cool composure returns as she focuses on Val. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Val steps closer, forcing Harper to back up toward the edge of the platform as well. “I wonder what the police would think about that?”
“They might be more interested in your creative accounting,” Harper retorts, her back now dangerously close to the railing.
“Ladies,” I try my best to interject, “maybe this isn’t the best place for this conversation, given the heart-stopping drop below us?”
Val ignores me, advancing on Harper with the determination of a predator that’s spotted weakness.
“You always think you’re the smartest person in the room, don’t you?
With your little notebook and your little calculations.
Did you calculate what would happen if someone found out what you’ve been hiding? ”
“Val,” I warn, “the cameras are rolling.” I hiss that last bit lower than a whisper. Not that I care if Val reveals Harper’s secret. Honestly, I’m just trying to ratchet up the drama.
“Let them roll,” she hisses right back. “I’m tired of pretending.”
With a sudden movement that seems almost accidental, she bumps against Harper, causing her to stumble backward and just about right off the edge of the platform!
Harper’s eyes widen in fear as she teeters on the brink, arms windmilling for balance as her back arches well past the guardrail.
Without thinking, I lunge forward, grabbing Harper’s arm and yanking her back from the edge in one bionic maneuver. We both tumble onto the glass floor in a tangle of limbs and designer outerwear.
I catch a glimpse of the sheer drop beneath us and my heart all but seizes.
Mother of all things holy, I can’t breathe. My entire body has turned into one giant heartbeat.
“Oh my goodness!” Val cries out with exaggerated concern as a small army of cameramen swoops in for a better shot. “Are you all right?” Val feigns interest in our well-being for a moment. “You should be more careful near the edge!”
“She pushed me,” Harper says through gritted teeth as we disentangle ourselves.
“It was an accident,” Val insists, and yet her eyes convey an entirely different message.
“That’s it! That’s the shot!” Boomer crows from behind the cameras. “The tension! The near-death experience! This is why we come to Norway, people!”
As the production team buzzes with excitement over their dramatic footage, I roll myself off the glass platform and onto the concrete, where I make a few snow angels—or concrete angels, as it were—out of sheer gratitude for being on solid ground.
Harper yanks me to my feet and pulls me in. “She tried to kill me,” she hisses.
“It sure looks that way,” I pant. “Although she’d probably call it character development.”
“We need to talk privately,” Harper insists, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the cameras are focused elsewhere. “On the train back down. I’ll show you what’s on the USB. You need to see what Madison recorded about Beth.”
“About Beth?” I repeat, stunned. “What on earth did she do?”
“Not here,” Harper hisses, eyeing Val, who is now performing her concerned friend routine for the cameras. “On the train. We’ll find a private compartment.”
The return journey to the railway station is tense, with Val shooting suspicious glances our way and Harper clutching her bag like it contains the nuclear codes.
When we board the return train to Flam, Harper insists on a private compartment, claiming she needs to conduct a few quick business calls.
Although I’d hate to be the one to point out that the reception would be murder.
Boomer readily agrees. I guess he’s still riding high on the fact that both Harper and I nearly plummeted to our deaths.
“Just make sure you wrap up before we hit the halfway point,” he insists. “I want some reaction shots of the Kjosfossen waterfall on the way down.”
Harper leads the way to a small wood-paneled compartment and shuts the door behind us. We take our seats without a word, and as the scenery rolls past the window, she pulls the USB drive from her bag again.
She pulls out her phone and a slim adapter. “Madison was thorough.” She connects the drive, and within seconds, a list of neatly organized folders appears. “Madison had conversations with all of us that we didn’t know were being documented.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” I ask.
“She wasn’t concerned with legality,” Harper laughs at the thought. “She was concerned with leverage.” She navigates through folders organized by name before clicking on Beth W and selecting the audio file.
Soon enough, Madison’s voice fills the compartment. “So, Beth, tell me again about your background before you married Lance, the infamous Dr. Luca? Tell me about your professional life?”
“Oh, that was a long time ago.” Beth’s voice responds, sounding much less warm than usual. “I don’t know why you’re bringing it up now.”
“I’m just curious,” Madison says sweetly. “Your official bio says you were a homemaker even before you married Lance, but I found some interesting records that suggest otherwise.”
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing at all. I just find it interesting that someone with your specific expertise would hide it. It’s almost as if you’re ashamed of something in your past.”
“Stop it,” Beth’s voice turns hard. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? I wonder what Lance would think if he knew about—”
The train suddenly lurches, and the lights flicker. Harper fumbles with her phone as the compartment is plunged into darkness.
“It’s just a power surge,” she mutters. “It’s common in mountain railways.”
The lights return seconds later, and Harper gasps as she stares down at the phone. “The USB,” she says, checking the device. “It’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” I ask, giving a quick once-over to the area near our feet. “It must have fallen somewhere.”
“No,” Harper insists, her voice rising. “It was right here. It was connected, and now it’s gone. Someone took it during the blackout.”
“That’s impossible. It’s just the two of us.”
“Is it?” Harper’s eyes narrow accusingly. “You were sitting awfully close to me.”
I inch back. “Harper, you can’t be serious. I was leaning in to hear better. You don’t think I took it, do you? Why would I do that?”
“To protect Beth,” Harper lifts her chin in defiance. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you two have gotten quite chummy.”
“I hardly know Beth,” I protest. “And I swear I didn’t take your USB drive.”
Harper stands abruptly, yanking open the compartment door. “Conductor!” she calls. “We need assistance!”
A uniformed man appears, looking more than a little concerned. “Is there a problem, madam?”
“I’ve been robbed,” Harper howls loud enough for everyone back on the ship to hear. “My property was stolen when the lights went out. I insist this woman be searched!”
My mouth falls open as I gape at the woman. She does realize we’re not being filmed at the moment. Or are we?
I give a quick look around but see no evidence of that lunacy—just this lunacy before me.
The poor conductor looks more than a little uncomfortable. “Madam, I cannot search passengers without—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt, quickly jumping to my feet. “Search me. I promise, I have nothing to hide.”
The conductor reluctantly pats down my pockets and examines my bag, finding nothing even remotely resembling a USB drive.
“Satisfied?” I ask Harper as sweetly as can be. Okay, fine. I snipped at her, but she totally deserved it.
Harper’s jaw clenches. “You could have hidden it anywhere. Tossed it out the window, slipped it under the seat cushion, passed it to someone when I wasn’t looking.”
“Harper, we’ve been alone the entire time!”
“Have we?” She yanks open the compartment door and storms out, leaving me standing there with nothing but the stunning Norwegian scenery and a growing sense that this investigation just got a lot more complicated—and a lot more bizarre.
We disembark, and Harper keeps her distance, all the while shooting me suspicious glares.
The production crew gathers its equipment, thankfully oblivious to the tension crackling between us.
And I still haven’t had the opportunity to talk to Harper about our shared love of art.
Not that I think she’s capable of a less-than-hostile exchange about anything at this point.
The icy air hits us as we make our way back to the Emerald Queen, and once we arrive, I spot Beth near the gangway, watching us with an anxious expression.
Which begs the question—does she know what was on that recording? Is Harper trying to protect Beth in some twisted way?
Or is Harper playing me? Maybe there never was a missing USB drive. Maybe she recorded the women herself and staged this whole field trip to gauge my reaction. Or to deflect suspicion from herself.
Either way, one thing is clear—someone on this ship is desperate to keep secrets buried.
And I’m pretty sure I just painted a target on my back.