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Jane’s cabin is on the fifteenth floor, one up from mine, double balcony, queen bed in a cushy stateroom. But as I walked by her cabin, the cleaning staff was in there making the bed, which meant Jane was nowhere in sight.
On the bright side, that means she’s roaming the ship somewhere, so I put it in high gear and pretend that I’m Jane.
What would I do if my best friend was just murdered on board a luxury liner?
I’d probably eat my weight in lava cake. But then, I do that every night and Elodie, Bess, and Nettie are all still thankfully alive and kicking.
Ransom’s cryptic words come back to me. If I continued to meddle, I’d not only put myself at risk, but I’d be putting Bess and Nettie in danger, too.
As if I’d ever do anything to harm a hair on their heads, or mine for that matter.
But then again, accidents do happen, and perhaps exceptionally so if I keep putting us in the eye of the target.
Ransom is right. I can’t go dragging those sweet women off to question potentially dangerous suspects. I’ll have to fly solo from now on.
Before I know it, I’m stepping off the elevator and onto the lido deck. If nothing else comes of tonight’s solitary endeavor, at least I can sneak a few lava cakes into my purse so Bess, Nettie, and I can enjoy them during the show. We’ve done it before. In fact, we’ll see who’s greedy with the lava cake once I bring back a double portion for each of us. That is, after I eat one or three while I’m at the buffet.
Okay, fine. There might be a touch of greed present, but in my defense chocolate is involved. It’s my love language, my carnal currency, a carb-based kryptonite. If it’s nearby, it might as well be in my mouth. And given the same circumstances, both Bess and Nettie would do the same thing.
Most likely.
I walk out onto the open-air deck where a string of swimming pools dot the center of the deck and several hot tubs sit tucked in alcoves along the side.
It’s dark out and the sound of that disco party on the deck up above rings out as raucous music fills the air. The scent of chlorine mingles with the brine from the sea and permeates my senses.
A few string lights illuminate the deck from above, and the water in those pools glows a glacial shade of blue. A few teenagers lob a beach ball to one another in the largest pool. And a handful of couples congregate in the smaller bodies of water surrounding it.
The first three hot tubs I pass are filled with men hitting on bikini-clad women, all of them cradling a cell phone in their hands. Some people just can’t let go of technology.
Wes let me know a few weeks back that one of the biggest complaints the ship gets is that people have dropped their cell phones into swimming pools, off the railings, and into the Pacific.
They complain.
As if it was really the ship’s fault they didn’t have better judgment regarding water and pricey electronics.
I’m about to follow the light and head into the Blue Water Café when I spot a lone woman sipping a cocktail in the hot tub that overlooks the brooding Pacific.
The Emerald Queen allows drinks in all of the pools and hot tubs so long as they’re contained in plastic cups provided by the bar. And I recognize the hourglass shape her cocktail is contained in as one of the lido deck’s signature glasses—plastic as it were.
But I also seem to recognize the brunette holding that fruity concoction.
“Jane?” I practically hiss the woman’s name out as I scuttle in her direction.
She jerks her head my way as her mouth opens in surprise.
“It’s me, Trixie,” I tell her. “We met—well, we met that tragic night. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Oh.” She waves the thought off. “I’m sorry, too. In fact, that’s exactly what drove me out here.” She lifts her drink in the air a moment. “I’ve been holed up in my room until now, but the dirty dishes from room service and dingy towels were starting to pile up so I thought I’d let housekeeping at it. Care to join me?”
“I’d love to,” I say, kicking off my shoes. “Boy, I wish I had on my bathing suit.”
“You’re wearing a bra and underwear, aren’t you?” She glances past me. “It’s so dark out who’s going to know the difference between that and a bathing suit? I’ll never tell.”
I give a quick glance around myself before whipping off my pink gauzy dress.
“I think I will join you,” I say, stepping into the water and my foot feels as if it’s being boiled right off of my body. “Believe it or not, it takes me just as long to get into a hot tub as it does a swimming pool. Hot water, cold water, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. It’s all an act of torture in the beginning.”
“You just summed up my life nicely.” She chuckles as she takes another sip from her drink. “With the exception, the torture never seems to end.” She nods to my accouterments. “Nice selection. Expecting company later?”
