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A part of me wishes I never knew Ransom’s deep, dark secret.
But I do, and because of it, everything has been turned on its disembodied ear.
CHAPTER 7
I can’t find Jane Hunt anywhere, and believe me, I’ve hunted.
“She was a no-show at the art classes I’ve instructed for the last three days,” I tell Bess, Nettie, and Ransom as we wait for our appetizers to arrive on this, the third night of the cruise.
“I’ve scoured the ship’s many pools—twenty-three, not counting the dozens of hot tubs,” I continue. “I’ve checked the ice skating rink, the skeet shooting deck, did a thorough investigation of the soft-serve ice cream bar and the frozen yogurt station—the most delicious inspection yet. They added two new toppings, toasted coconut and miniature malt balls, which I may have overdone it with. Anyway, I did a mall-crawl through the ship’s boutiques, even did a little snooping via guest relations and found out Jane has first seating at dinner just like us. But alas, I couldn’t find her on any of the three floors of the main dining room.” The very room we’re seated in now—first floor adjacent to an ice sculpture of a hula girl crowned with a wreath of glorious pink hibiscus. “She was a no-show at all of the entertainment venues.” The ship’s Broadway-worthy musicals cast a spell on me every single time, and I’ve been known to sneak into the show for the second-seating diners as well. “Even the magician who packs them in at the comedy club hasn’t seen the likes of her. I’ve scoured high and low, stalked even the darkest, most exotic nooks and crannies of this ship, and peeked in the most innocuous places. Jane Hunt simply cannot be found.”
Not that Julia Edwards is on the ship either. Wes let me know a couple of days ago that port authorities had arranged to pick up her body and she was taken back to Los Angeles. She’s in the hands of the coroner’s office now, and I can hardly wait to hear what that savvy forensics team has to say.
Ransom frowns my way, and in doing so it makes him that much more lethally handsome.
So not fair.
He’s donned a dark inky suit and that jet-black hair of his gleams in the light.
In truth, I’ve been avoiding him for the last few days. Not a hard thing to do, seeing that he’s been so busy with the case this is his first night at the table with us since we’ve sailed. Suffice it to say, he hasn’t paid a single ghostly visit to my cabin since that last conversation we had, and secretly I’m a bit relieved.
He nods my way. “Maybe you should take that as a sign not to pursue matters any further with Jane Hunt or anyone else you might deem as a suspect.”
Nettie gasps. “Go on, Trixie, tell him you’re not going to let a man tell you what you can and can’t do.”
“Not this again,” Bess groans. “I’m sorry, but I’m siding with Ransom. Trixie, let’s leave this investigation to the professionals.” She hitches her head his way. “Besides, the suspect on your list is a woman. And if anyone knows how to get what he wants out of a woman, it’s Ransom Baxter.”
“Exactly.” Ransom’s lips curl at the tips. “Leave this one to the pros and enjoy the rest of your cruise.”
“I’ll enjoy my cruise when I know for certain there isn’t a killer on board,” I tell him. “Have you heard back from the coroner’s office yet?”
His jaw redefines itself, and his eyes stay trained on mine.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I say. “In the event you didn’t realize, Nadine Dixon echoed what Jane mentioned on the night Julia was killed—they both said something about secrets. Jane said Julia took her secrets with her, and Nadine hinted that both Julia and Jane had secrets. I’m guessing it’s a shared secret. And have I mentioned that on the night of the murder I saw blue liquid dried on Jane’s arm? Ransom, she could very well be our killer.”
“My killer.” His brows hike as he nods my way. “She could very well be my killer. As in this is my investigation, Trixie.”
“So you admit there’s a killer,” I counter.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Technically, you inferred it.” Bess nods.
Nettie motions from him to me. “Speaking of technicalities, when are the two of you going to knock boots? The sexual tension is practically combustible.”
Bess scoffs. “The only thing about to combust around here is Trixie’s temper if he keeps telling her to keep out of his investigation.”
“Ransom”—I lean his way, choosing to ignore Nettie’s cry for attention regarding tension—“are you holding back information about the case?”
“Yes,” he says point-blank. “Trixie, the only person I’m sharing information with regarding the Edwards’ case is Quinn. And that’s because she’s the only other detective on the ship.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I could practically qualify as a detective? Ransom, I solved the last few homicide cases on the ship, not to mention the one out in Honey Hollow.”
“She’s right.” Bess raises a finger. “Not only has she solved the last few homicide cases on the ship, but she’s solved all of the homicide cases that have ever occurred on this ship. That means, technically, you and Quinn have yet to even come close to her track record.”
“Technically, Trixie is the better detective,” Nettie adds.
“Technically, she’s not a detective at all,” Ransom says it curtly as he looks my way. “You don’t have a badge or carry a weapon. One of these days, Trixie, your luck is going to run out.”
