Chapter 31

31

T heo and I study our information cards before heading downstairs, attempting to memorize all of the details. Theo sticks them in his pocket in case we need a refresher, gives me a sound kiss on my lips, and then escorts me out the door. We don't even make it to the elevator before he has me pressed against the wall, his hand cradling my head, his lips devouring mine. The only thing that pulls us out of our embrace are the lights lowering twice, telling us it's time to make our way to the dining room.

I don't think I'll ever forget this night. I feel like we're in a dream as we step off the elevator and into the dining room–it's like a scene straight out of the Titanic . Theo's hand is warm in mine, the steady sweep of his thumb over my wrist tethering me to him. An enormous mahogany oval table is set in the middle of the room, crystal chandeliers dripping light over the opulent place settings.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. DuPont. Please follow me to your seats." I glance at the waiter then up at Theo, unable to hide my nervous smile.

"Chin up, baby girl. We've got this," he murmurs, squeezing my hand. He pulls out my chair for me, and I sit, the chairs on either side of us still empty .

"Champagne, madame?" another waiter asks, the bottle poised over my glass as he waits for my answer.

"Please." I drink half the glass immediately, hoping to calm my nerves. Someone brushes against my shoulder, and I look behind me to see an older gentleman pulling out the chair next to me and settling into his seat.

"Good evening," he says, smiling at me, his face creasing into good-natured lines, blue eyes sparkling.

"Hello. I'm Anna Dupont, nice to meet you."

"Franklin Astor. Pleasure is mine." His smile is warm and friendly.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Astor." I already know from my information sheet that he's my father, and the woman sitting next to him is his new wife.

Just as he starts to answer my question, someone taps on a glass with a knife, the stragglers slipping into their seats and quieting down.

A well-dressed woman greets us with a tight smile. "Welcome to the Tide Runner . We are so happy to have you on board. Please spend the next hour enjoying your meal and getting to know the other guests. The information you learn now will be vitally important in the coming hours."

"I believe you're my father," I whisper conspiratorially, leaning closer to Franklin.

His mouth drops open in surprise before he remembers the part he's playing, making me giggle. "I think I just watched your life flash before your eyes," I say, grinning.

"I nearly had a heart attack. This is the first time I've ever done anything like this. It's going to take me a bit to get used to playing a part."

"Did you come with anyone?" I ask, glancing curiously at the beautiful woman at his side. "My mother, perhaps?"

"Your mother died six months ago. This gorgeous woman beside me is your new stepmother, Camila DuPont." He winces an apology.

This is so bizarre. I love it.

"So soon, dear Father? "

"When you know, you know," he says, paling a bit at the callousness of his words.

Conversation dies down as our meal is served. Duck breast with a tart cherry sauce, roasted potatoes, and sauteed broccolini. It's delicious.

"How did my mother die?" I ask, trying to glean as much information as I can before dinner ends.

"It happened very suddenly. The doctor said it was a heart attack."

"And Camila? Where did you meet her?"

"She's been my secretary for the past year."

Hmmm. Suspicious. I turn back to Theo, sliding my hand over his arm to get his attention.

"What have you found out so far?" I ask.

"The man beside me is Peter Hyland, Franklin Astor's business partner. His wife, Emily, is sitting to his right, hanging on every word he says."

"Should we get up and mingle?" I ask, setting my napkin on my empty dessert plate and pushing away from the table.

"That's a good idea. I want to find out as much as we can about the people we haven't had a chance to talk to before the murder happens.”

Theo takes my hand as I stand, pushing to his feet next to me. That's when everything goes black.

"Too late," I whisper, my heart in my throat. "I think it's happening now." Will it be one of us? I hadn't even considered that. Oh god. I nearly jump out of my skin at the scream that erupts to my left.

I grip Theo's arm, my heart racing. Something hits the floor hard, and Theo draws me against his body, holding still as we both listen to the commotion going on around us. The lights flicker, and I spin to my left, getting a glimpse of Franklin sprawled on the ground, a knife sunk into his abdomen, his wife sobbing beside him before the lights go out again.

Fuck. This is legitimately terrifying.

"Folks, we have a temporary power outage," The same woman from earlier announces, walking into the room with a candle, setting it in the middle of the table. "Please enjoy drinks on us while we get it fixed." She pulls a flashlight out of her pocket, shining it around the table to ensure everyone is okay.

"Theo!" I tug on his arm until he turns toward me, and I point to Camila, sitting in her chair, her body trembling, a bright red slash on her arm, her hands covered in blood.

Jesus.

"What's this?" the woman asks, the beam of her flashlight traveling along Franklin's body. Her shrill scream startles me. She drops the flashlight, the beam cartwheeling. I catch a glimpse of an arm reaching out to the candle, setting a scrap of paper on fire. I don't get a chance to see the face, I only know that it was someone close, on our side of the table. I set a glass upside down over the curl of black paper, snuffing out the flame. Someone brushes my arm, sneaking behind us.

"Where were you?" I hear someone rage-whisper before the words are cut off abruptly. My mind is spinning, trying to put together puzzle pieces that don't fit. A gong sounds, and a man holding a lantern stands on a chair, towering over all of us.

"Good evening. I'm Detective Randall Evans. There has been a murder. Nobody is allowed to leave this level of the ship until everyone has been questioned. You may talk to each other, ask each other questions, and ask me questions when we have our one-on-one interviews. If you have the information requested, you are obligated to answer the question truthfully. Take your time. The person who solves this murder will be the person who asks the right questions. Ms. Johnson, you're first. Please follow me."

Ms. Johnson–the governor, if my memory of the information card serves me right–huffs. "I was on the opposite side of the table, it very obviously wasn't me." Mr. Evans gives her a stern look, and she snaps her mouth shut, following him out of the room.

"I didn't realize this was going to feel so real," I whisper, my heart pounding from the adrenaline roaring through my system. I grab the candle from the table and hold it over Franklin's body, looking dubiously at the pool of red forming beneath him. I bend down and hold my fingers to his neck to satisfy my worry. I gasp when he opens his eyes, giving me a quick wink before resuming his position. Thank fuck. This was all getting a little too real for comfort. The lights come back on suddenly, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

"Come on, let's get away from everyone and talk about what we know." I grab Theo's sleeve and tug him out of the room, winding our way around the odd staff member until we reach the mostly empty salon. I sit at the piano, needing to do something with my fingers while I think. I pick out “Twinkle, twinkle little star” while the details of the night spin through my head. "It seems like almost everyone in that room could have had a motive to murder Franklin," I muse, adding some simple chords with my left hand.

"Really?" he asks, leaning against the piano and watching me closely, his eyebrow lifting. "The only people with any motive would be you or Camila, depending on Franklin's will."

"Me?"

He shrugs. "You're his daughter and probably stand to inherit his half of the business."

"Yes, but why would I murder him?"

"Perhaps he said he was going to change his will. Take you out and add his wife."

"Damn. You're good at this. Except it wasn't me."

He narrows his eyes, studying my face, trying to sniff out a lie. I purse my lips, keeping my cards close to my chest.

"I think we should split up, find out as much as we can from everyone, and then come back together and compare notes," I say, standing.

"Smart. Meet me back here in thirty minutes?"

I nod, walking out of the room without looking back. I stop around the corner, peeking back into the room, watching Theo pick something out from underneath his nails, wipe a smudge from the back of his hand, and then head into the bathroom, annoyance written in the lines of his face. I shake my head. It can't be Theo. Can it? He was right next to me the whole time. I return to the dining room, studying everyone, letting their body language speak to me. The only problem is that everyone here is pretending to be someone they aren't, so how can I rely on body language? Ugh. I pull out a pad of paper and the pen I took from the room, jotting down a list of questions along with everyone's names. That will at least help me to stay organized. Perhaps I'll have a fighting chance of figuring this out quickly so I can drag Theo back to the room and have my way with him.

"Do you have a second to chat?" I ask Ms. Johnson, smiling.

"Of course, as long as I can ask you questions, too."

I nod and smile, leading her into the hallway where we can have a bit of privacy.

"Did you know everyone at this party before today?"

"No."

"Who did you know?"

"You, your husband, your father, and his wife," she says softly.

"How did you know my father?" I ask, curious.

"We have had ties up until last year. He would donate to my campaign."

"What happened last year?"

"He decided to run for my position."

Ah. "And how did that affect your relationship with him?" I ask, becoming increasingly suspicious.

"Negatively."

"How so?"

"I haven't talked to him since he told me."

"Did he have a chance of taking your position? Had any polls been done?"

She winces. "A poll last week showed him ahead by 9 points."

I suck air through my teeth. Well, if that's not damning, I don't know what is. "Those are all the questions I have," I say, writing the details down. Could she have crawled under the table when the power went out?

"You were sitting next to Mr. Astor, correct?" Ms. Johnson asks.

"Correct."

"And you're his daughter? "

"Correct."

"Were you happy when he remarried?"

"No," I admit.

"Why not?"

"I felt like Camila was marrying him for his money."

"There was no prenup?" she asks, her eyebrows jumping up her forehead.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"What about a will?"

"Yes, I was with my father when he made his will," I say, shifting on my feet. She sure has a lot of questions.

"And what did he leave to you?"

"His half of the business."

She makes a choking sound, backing up a step, like she forgot for a second that this isn't real. I have to admit, she already has a solid case against me. The disgruntled daughter who doesn't want to lose her inheritance, so she murders her father before he can change his will.

"Did his new wife know about the will?"

"Not that I'm aware of." I look over at Camila. She meets my gaze, her eyes darkening with suspicion. Is she a good actress, or does she really suspect me?

"That's all for now, Mrs. Dupont. Thank you."

I seek out Peter next, feeling like perhaps he'll have an idea who would have it out for his business partner.

"Mind if I ask you some questions?" I ask Peter, studying his face for clues.

"Of course." He smiles, his gaze traveling around the room before landing on me.

"How is your relationship with your wife?"

"It's been better," he admits.

"Why's that?"

"She filed for divorce last week."

"Why? "

He clears his throat. "She found something out that I've been hiding."

"And what is that something?"

"An affair."

"With whom?"

"I'm not sharing that information." His gaze betrays him, though. I follow it as it crosses the room, stopping on Camila.

Shit. Did he kill Franklin so he could be with Camila? Seems like a solid motive. He nods his head and leaves, not asking me any questions, which seems suspicious.

"Mrs. DuPont?"

I spin on my heel to see the detective. Shit. I was hoping to have some more time before I was called in for questioning. I follow him into a small office, sitting in a comfortable leather chair on the opposite side of a large wooden desk.

"Tell me about your relationship with your father, Mrs. DuPont."

"We've always had a great relationship. I've been working for him since I was seven or eight. Answering phones, taking orders, helping out wherever I could."

"And now?"

"Now I'm the vice president."

"And your relationship with him was stable up until his death?"

"Yes, he and I were very close."

"Even after he married Camila?"

I lean back in my chair. "I'll admit that that wasn't the best decision he's ever made, but I don't fault him for it."

"Do you fault her for it?"

"Yes."

"You feel she's a gold-digger?"

I start to protest, then remembered I have to answer based on what’s on my card. "Yes," I admit, looking down at my lap.

"I believe those are the only questions I have right now, Mrs. DuPont. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Do you know who Peter is having an affair with?"

"Yes, but I'm not at liberty to share. "

"Can you tell me if it's someone on this boat?"

"Yes, it's someone on this boat."

Bingo.

"Was anybody else injured in the attack?"

"Yes, the blade grazed Camila before Franklin was stabbed."

Could she have been the intended target all along?

"Did Camila know that my father willed his half of the business to me?" I ask, finally coming to what may be the most important question.

"No."

Fucking hell. They've made it so absolutely everyone is a potential suspect. Think, Isla. The image of the hand holding that scrap of paper comes back to me. Could that have been Theo? Peter? Emily? I say my goodbyes to the detective and make my way back to the dinner table. Franklin's body is covered, and I rein back my curiosity to pull the sheet back and see if he's actually still under there or if there's a mannequin in his place. I make sure nobody is watching and remove the cup over a scrap of paper and fold it into my palm, walking to the women's restroom and closing myself in a stall before examining it.

Keep he–

out of th–

I stare at it, tilting it back and forth under the dim lighting, trying to decipher the missing words. I glance at my phone. Only five minutes until I meet back up with Theo. I head back into the salon to go back over my notes, coming up with several hypotheses to run by him.

"Ready, wifey?" Theo comes up behind me, his breath tickling my ear as he rests his chin on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my middle.

"Did you get any good information?" I ask, turning in his arms and looking up into those mesmerizing eyes.

"I did. You?"

I nod, letting him lead me into the corner where we can talk in private .

"Was it you that burned the scrap of paper?" I ask, pulling it from my pocket.

"Yes, it was slipped in front of me right before the lights went out. It said K eep her out of the way . That's why I grabbed you."

"Any idea who put the paper there?"

"No, I didn't see."

Bummer. We compare notes, and after about ten minutes, we have a solid theory just in time for the lights to lower twice, calling us back to the dining room. I'm relieved to see that the sheet-covered body is gone as I slip back into my seat. The detective stands at the head of the table, and the room falls into a pregnant hush.

"Has anyone deduced who murdered Franklin Astor?" he asks, his gaze sliding to each of us.

Emily stands. "I believe Camila murdered her husband in order to inherit his fortune."

The detective raises an eyebrow. "You only get one guess. Is that your final answer?"

"Yes."

"Incorrect. Next?"

Ms. Johnson stands, pointing at me. "Anna DuPont murdered him so her fortune wouldn't be willed to her new stepmother, Camila."

"Anna, what do you have to say about that?"

"You're wrong," I say simply, giving her a sympathetic smile. "It was Emily."

A collective gasp goes up, every gaze in the room swiveling to Emily.

"She meant to kill Camila but tripped, slicing open Camila's arm, before the blade found a home in Franklin Astor's abdomen instead of her husband's mistress," Theo finishes, revealing our theory.

The detective claps slowly, the staff joining in. "Congratulations to the DuPonts. You solved the mystery. This concludes that portion of our evening, ladies and gentlemen. Our guests are welcome to enjoy the amenities for the rest of this evening. Brunch will be between nine and eleven in the morning. We hope you enjoyed your dinner. "

I take Theo's hand and start dragging him toward the elevators, determined to get him back to the room as quickly as possible.

"Isla, Theo?" The detective stops us, holding out a bottle of champagne. "Your prize. Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you so much, that was thrilling."

"I'm impressed you figured it out so easily."

"I had some extra motivation," I say, looking up at Theo.

"And she's the most competitive woman you will ever meet. I'm sure that had nothing to do with it." Theo winks, taking the bottle of champagne from his hand. "Should we go out on the deck and enjoy the champagne under the stars?" he asks once the detective leaves to mingle with the other guests.

"Or, we can go back to the room, and you can lick it off my body. Your choice."

"Fuck. Me. Isla."

His voice is deliciously husky, and I desperately want to hear him call me a good girl as he slides inside me. "Gladly. Room. Now."

"Yes, ma'am," he growls, swinging me into his arms and kissing me hard.