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Without hesitation, I make my way over. My heart pounds so hard it eclipses the bass from the music and sends a steady earthquake rattling through me.
“Nadine?” I say a little over a whisper. It’s quieter here in the corner. Nothing but a hot tub to our left glowing a cerulean blue, the water percolating despite the fact it’s void of people.
She turns my way and takes a breath. Her pale face glows lavender.
Phineas swoops in close and his own illumination sharpens, a daring shade of blue as he lights up the vicinity—for me at least.
“Make her admit it and then throw her overboard,” he growls. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
“Easy,” I say through the side of my mouth. And for a moment I gain a whole new respect for Nettie. She’s made her little ventriloquist act seem easy as pie—a poisoned pie in this case.
“What’s that?” Nadine blinks my way. “Did you say you were queasy? Believe me, I’ve felt like that more than once on this floating hotel.” She rolls her eyes. “But thankfully, we dock in L.A. soon enough, and this entire nightmare will be behind us.”
Phineas huffs a dull laugh. “She would like that, wouldn’t she?”
I’m pretty sure she’s banking on it.
That T-shirt she’s wearing with its peace signs and flowers, those hot pink platform shoes—it all makes her look so innocuous, so innocent. Like a girl from an era past with a bright future still in front of her.
But she’s no innocent girl.
Nadine Dixon is a murderous woman, and I’m about to get her to admit to as much.
“Nadine”—I clear my throat—“the night she was killed, Julia said you needed to be careful in your business venture or you’d end up in a financial casket. She wasn’t so keen on what you were doing with all those loans, was she?”
“Loans?” Her entire body jerks back a notch.
It’s evident I’ve struck a nerve.
“You were the mastermind behind that nefarious behavior, weren’t you? Julia didn’t like it one bit. That’s why she brought it up. That’s why she was so agitated that night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her forehead creases into three deep crevices as she examines me. “Or more to the point, you don’t know what you’re talking about. We needed those loans—we still need them regardless of the fact Julia isn’t here.” She glowers at me for a moment. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Jane.”
She tries to move past me, but I block her path.
“You asked Jane to get the drinks and meet you and Julia on the balcony,” I tell her. “You set her up to look guilty.”
“She is guilty,” she grunts out the words like a threat. “Jane hated Julia for ruining her career. And she still went into business with her? Don’t you find it fishy that she handed over fists full of money to the woman who destroyed her?” A hard breath expels from her. “Don’t you see, Trixie? Julia is dead. Someone killed her. Do I really have to draw a roadmap for you? It was Jane. She was most likely plotting this all along.”
“She may have been plotting something, but it wasn’t murder.”
“But”—she gags on the words struggling to make their way out of her throat—“didn’t you hear me when I said her ex-husband owns a reptile stop? They sell snakes there in the event you’re not aware of their phylum.” A growl of frustration escapes her. “Boy, you really are blonde if you can’t put two and two together.”
“As it stands these days, I’m far more gray than I am anything else. And I can assure you, Nadine, I am more than capable of putting two and two together. You knew that Jane’s ex owned that shop. That’s why you chose that modality to kill her, isn’t it?”
The white of her eyes expand and glow under the black lights glaring down at us.
“You mentioned your Uncle Bo back on Maui,” I persist. “It was that day we were on that ziplining excursion. You said he ran an animal rescue center out in Kansas. I looked it up. How fortuitous that he named it after himself. Bo Dixon’s Animal Preserve—home to wildlife in need.”
A choking sound emits from her.
“I hopped on their website,” I persist. “They house snakes—exotic ones—lots of them. That’s where you procured the venom, isn’t it?”
She swallows hard before shaking her head emphatically.
“No, Trixie. Don’t do this,” she pleads, backing up against the railing.
“It’s too late,” I pant, stepping in close. “You made it a point to say that it was Julia who curated the guest list for the event. But that’s not entirely true. It was you who invited Travis because you needed someone else to blame her death on. Don’t try to lie about it. I just spoke to him moments ago.”
