Chapter 29
Suddenly Hitched—What a Trip!
Hey there, mystery-loving readers!
We’ve officially wrapped up our Icelandic adventure aboard the Emerald Queen of the Seas, and I’m pleased to report that I survived volcanic steam, Arctic winds, and turning fifty—all in the same week.
I may live on a cruise ship, but I still had birthday plans—champagne, Northern Lights, and a dignified amount of chocolate lava cake. Instead I got a homicide, a floating reinvention seminar, and enough drama to light up a small Nordic country.
Apparently, milestone birthdays are magnets for mayhem.
Between geothermal hot springs, communal shower trauma at the Blue Lagoon (still processing), and chasing suspicious alibis across black sand beaches, this cruise delivered more surprises than I ordered.
I witnessed the Northern Lights while actively hunting a killer, which I believe qualifies as advanced multitasking.
I also learned a few things. Never ignore Nettie when she insists someone is hiding something. Always trust Bess when she quietly narrows her eyes. And never assume that people selling reinvention at sea are telling the whole truth about who they used to be.
Most importantly, I discovered that fifty isn’t subtle. It’s bold. It’s unpredictable. It comes with champagne, chaos, and the kind of friendships that make even homicide investigations feel survivable.
As we sail onward, I’m celebrating not just another solved case, but stepping into this next chapter surrounded by my devastatingly handsome husband Ransom, my partners-in-chaos Bess and Nettie, Captain Wes, and our newest crew member Marina—who may or may not have secrets of her own.
If this is what fifty looks like, I’m ready.
Until next time, keep your hot springs steaming, your birthday candles blazing, and maybe think twice before boarding any cruise that promises personal transformation.
XOXO,
Trixie
P.S. We also solved a murder. I mention this only because it seems like the kind of thing you’d want to know before booking your next cruise.
Day 10: Reykjavik, Iceland
(Disembarkation)
Disembarkation day has a particular energy to it. Slow, reluctant, and tinged with the melancholy that comes from knowing something good is coming to an end.
Passengers move through the corridors as though they’re wading through honey, dragging suitcases behind them with expressions that say they’d rather be anywhere but heading home. It’s a case of travel anxiety mixing with genuine sadness.
Nobody wants to leave the ship.
Nobody wants to return to real life, where homicides don’t get solved over champagne and birthday cake.
I get it. I live here and I still feel it.
We’re lined up just in front of the gangway. Me, Ransom, Wes, Marina, Elodie, Bess, Nettie, and Tinsley, who’s hugging her electronic notebook to her chest the way other people hug emotional support animals.
It’s basically a crew tradition at this point, saying goodbye to passengers as they disembark, thanking them for sailing with us, and wishing them safe travels. It’s sweet and it’s exhausting, but one of the best parts of cruise ship life.
The throngs file past us with hugs, selfies, and promises to sail again soon.
The Second Act Society members come through in waves, most of them looking stunned for a myriad of reasons.
Their fearless leader is dead. Their co-founder’s husband is a murderer.
Their transformative cruise experience came with a body count, and nobody saw that coming.
I’m not even sure the killer did.
But they’re smiling, hugging, and taking photos because what else do you do when your second act includes a Scandinavian murder mystery?
Nicolette appears in a sleek black pantsuit that hugs her every curve, wheeling a designer suitcase that matches her handbag.
“Ladies!” She stops in front of Marina and me, pulls us both into a hug that smells like expensive perfume and power. “If either of you ever needs a good divorce lawyer, you give me a call.”
“You bet,” I say, and Ransom gives me the side-eye.
We all share a quick laugh as she glides down the gangway, head held high and ready to conquer whatever comes next.
Before we can catch a breath, Holland appears, wheeling her suitcase with both hands, her face looking grim.
The silk dress from last night has been replaced by jeans and a matching blue sweater, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
She looks younger, smaller if that’s possible, and very much devastated.
Marina and I head her way before she can escape.
“Holland,” I say gently.
She stops, lets out a long sigh, and shrugs. “I can’t believe this is my life.”
“I’m so sorry,” Marina says, and I can tell she means it.
“Believe me, I’m sorry too.” Holland’s eyes are red-rimmed, exhausted. “Silas and I built everything together. The business. The Society. Our whole reputation. And now…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Now I get to figure out who I am without him. I guess that’s my real second act.”
“You’ll be okay,” I tell her, because I genuinely believe it. “You’re stronger than you think.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.” Holland manages a weak smile. “I guess I’ll find out if it’s true.”
She squeezes both our hands and continues down the gangway, pulling her life behind her in a rolling suitcase.
But before Marina or I could process anything, the sound of heels clip-clopping from across the deck makes me groan before I even turn around.
“Now what?” I mutter.
Quinn approaches in full uniform, looking official and slightly smug. Marina and I exchange looks before heading over to where she’s stopped in front of Ransom.
And just like that, everyone circles around. Wes, Elodie, Bess, Nettie, all of us sensing something’s about to happen.
“Chief Baxter,” Quinn says formally, and my stomach drops. “I made a request to corporate after you saved my life last night.” She pulls an envelope from her jacket and hands it to Wes. “This was their response.”
Wes opens it, reads the contents, and his expression goes carefully neutral. He looks at Ransom with something I can’t quite read.
“Oh no,” I mutter.
“Say it ain’t so,” Bess whispers.
“It ain’t so,” Wes says, waving the paper at Ransom with a grin that breaks through his somber composure. “You’ve been reinstated effective immediately. Full position, full pay, and a bonus as an apology for the inconvenience.”
Bess, Nettie, and I let out a collective whoop loud enough to make the captain wish he had earplugs in his pocket.
We jump up and down and grab Ransom in a group hug that nearly knocks him over, laughing and squealing and generally making a scene. When we pull back, Nettie is wrapped around Ransom like a vine, her face buried against his neck.
“Is she biting him?” Marina asks with a wince.
“Down, Vampira.” Bess plucks her off.
Elodie grunts. “If I’d known we could take a nibble, I would have at least nipped his ear.” She winks my way. “Kidding.”
“The important thing is that we’re all back together again,” I say, pulling Marina in close. “And then some.”
“So, Captain,” Tinsley says, her voice lifting with forced enthusiasm, “where are we off to next?”
Quinn nods. “I’d like to know that myself, so I can notify the police.” She looks directly at me. “I’m teasing.”
She takes a moment to narrow her eyes at me in a way that suggests she’s absolutely not teasing.
Wes clears his throat. “We’re repositioning back to Copenhagen. Then it’s off to see a few of the Baltic capitals.”
“Copenhagen?” The word slips from Marina’s lips before she can stop it and her hand flies to her mouth. “Sorry. I’m sure it will be fine.” She swallows hard. “You know, I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
She takes off toward the interior of the ship, moving faster than someone who’s just planning to nap, and we all watch her go.
“Well, Copenhagen is fine with me,” Quinn says, turning back to Ransom. “It’s nice to have you back on board, Chief. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred.”
Marina clip-clops away, leaving us standing there in the wake of too much information and not enough answers.
“Should I go after her?” I ask Wes.
He shakes his head, but his expression is troubled. “Let’s give her time.”
Within seconds, Wes is engulfed by enthusiastic passengers demanding one last selfie with the captain.
Of course he handles it with grace, while smiling for cameras, shaking hands, and being exactly the captain everyone wants to remember.
But I can tell he’s still concerned about whatever has Marina thinking twice about returning to the port she left while devastated.
Tinsley growls beside me, hugging her notebook as though it’s personally offended her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bess asks.
“Marina is my new roommate,” Tinsley says, her voice flat.
“I’ve had that cabin to myself for three years.
Three glorious years of spreading out, leaving my stuff everywhere, walking around in my underwear, eating ice cream at two a.m. And now?
” She gestures wildly with her notebook.
“Now I have to share. With someone who probably folds her pajamas and has opinions about optimal closet organization.”
“You’ll survive,” Nettie says.
“Will I though?” Tinsley takes off, muttering something about boundaries and personal space.
Bess and Nettie get back to waving at passengers, calling out goodbyes, being the cheerful send-off committee they are.
“I almost feel sorry for Tinsley,” I say as I wrap my arms around Ransom. “You know, I like to eat ice cream in my underwear at odd hours myself.”
A smile curves on his lips. “And I haven’t complained once.”
Ransom’s phone bleats, and he grunts as he reads the screen, and frowns.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, moving closer.
He’s quiet for a moment, staring at his phone as though it just delivered news he’s not sure how to process.
“It’s one of my old contacts from the FBI.
I was doing a deep dive into each of our suspects last night.
” He gives me an amused look. “By the way, I found out about Silas’s child about a hair after you did.
I was on my way to tell you, but I had a gut feeling you were one step ahead of me. ”
“I’m very competitive about solving a homicide,” I say lightly. “But you already know this about me.”
“I do. It’s one of your more attractive qualities.”
“But that’s not what you found out just now,” I say, watching his expression shift from amused to serious. “Is it?”
“You’re right.” He looks at me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach drop. Something that says whatever he’s about to tell me is going to change everything.
“What is it, Ransom?”
He glances toward where Marina disappeared, then back to his phone, then finally to me. “It’s Marina,” he says quietly. “She’s not who she says she is.”
The words settle into my chest with the weight of a truth I should’ve seen coming.
Behind us, passengers stream down the gangway. Bess and Nettie wave and smile. Wes poses for another selfie.
The Emerald Queen prepares to sail again, carrying all of us toward Copenhagen and whatever truth is waiting there.
And somewhere on this ship, Marina Maxwell—or whoever she really is—is hiding in a cabin, terrified of returning to the city where all her secrets began.
Fifty might have been fabulous, but fifty-and-one-day is already shaping up to be complicated.
Here’s hoping it’s not murder.
Thank you for reading!