Chapter 10

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Trip Tip: Here's something I've learned the hard way—don't be a plate stacker. The buffet line is not a game of Jenga. One wrong move and you'll trigger a culinary catastrophe that will haunt your fellow passengers for days—and your nightmares for years. Besides, there are no rules stating that you can't turn your plate into a culinary skyscraper.

Dinner goes as follows:

For dinner, Bess, Nettie, and I decided to indulge in the full dining experience offered by the Emerald Queen's formal dining room, first seating dinner—which just so happens to be our nightly staple.

Our culinary journey begins with appetizers of delicate crab cakes, perfectly crisped on the outside while succulent and flaky within, served atop a bed of microgreens with a light, citrus-infused aioli drizzle. At that point, I could have died happy, but the first course introduces a yummy change of pace—a bowl of thick and rich clam chowder. A creamy, dreamy concoction that balances the richness of heavy cream with the zesty kick of freshly cracked pepper. Honestly, I put about a cup of soup crackers in it, too. And now that is heaven.

Moving on to the second course, we're treated to a plate of seared scallops, expertly caramelized to a golden hue and resting on a pillow of cauliflower puree. A drizzle of aged balsamic reduction and a scattering of crispy pancetta pieces add depth and texture to this delectable dish, and let's not forget the fact it's garnished with caviar.

The chefs on this ship serve nothing but the best.

For the main course, I couldn't resist the allure of the broiled filet mignon served with a side of roasted root vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a cherry port sauce that brings a sweet and tart contrast to the rich, tender meat. A bit of sophistication and comfort in equal measures.

And, of course, dinner culminates in a dessert that is nothing short of a showstopper—a dark chocolate tart with a hint of sea salt. The dessert is rich, velvety chocolate nestled in a buttery, flaky crust with a light sprinkle of sea salt on top to enhance the chocolate's deep flavors. A scoop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream on the side offers a cool, creamy finish to the decadent treat, rounding off a meal that's about as unforgettable as the last twenty-four hours.

Both Wes and Ransom were unavailable to join us for the feast. Wes had to tend to the bridge, and Ransom had a spate of security issues that wrangled his time, nothing related to the case he assured me.

Afterward, Bess, Nettie, and I head over to the Emerald Theater where the entertainment crew put on a dazzling spectacle appropriately dubbed the Pirate Follies. As we take our seats in the plush, velvet chairs, the lights dim and the curtain rises to reveal a set that transports us straight onto the deck of a pirate ship, complete with billowing sails and a starlit sky painted on the backdrop.

For the next two hours we're treated to a blend of comedy, acrobatics, and swashbuckling adventure, all rolled into one. And judging by the raucous applause and standing ovation, the humor isn't lost on the audience.

As the last echoes of applause fade, Bess, Nettie, and I make our way out of the Emerald Theater still on a high from the Broadway-worthy show. The corridor teems with elated passengers and their chatter lights up the night's atmosphere.

"How about we test our luck at the casino next?" I suggest, glancing around in the crowd for any familiar faces—someone from Roger's camp or even Wes or Ransom, but I'm coming up empty.

"I'm in." Bess nods in agreement. "I feel lucky tonight. Maybe it's the pirate spirit in the air."

Nettie waves us both off. "Forget the slots, I'm on a hunt for a different kind of treasure tonight," she declares with a naughty gleam in her eye. "A pirate to call my own. One who doesn't need a compass to find his way around a treasure map." She wiggles her shoulders as she says that last part.

"This again?" Bess rolls her eyes. "You had better hope he knows his way around a phone in the event he needs to call for the medical staff on board. I hate to break it to you, but your treasure map faded out about fifty years ago."

"He won't need a map," Nettie counters. "Once I flash my gold doubloons, he'll come running—or hobbling, depending on his age and if he's got a peg leg."

"Those gold doubloons of yours are ancient relics," Bess says. "You'll need an archeologist in the bedroom more than you'll need a pirate."

"Eh." Nettie shrugs. "An archeologist might have the right tools for the dig, but I have a hankering for a dirty old sea dog to help himself to my bones."

"Ooh, speaking of cravings," I say. "Maybe we should hit the lido deck before the casino? I bet the Blue Water Café has the lava cake out by now."

Lava cake just so happens to be my all-time favorite dessert on this floating bakery. It's a small, luscious chocolate cake with molten hot chocolate melted in the center of it. They're served in tiny white ramekins, and I've been known to put away six at a sitting.

"Let's do it," Nettie says, lifting a finger. "A pirate's wench has got to keep her strength up if she's to navigate the high seas of flirtation."

Bess nods. "Just as long as we don't capsize the ship from all the dessert. Lead the way, Captain Nettie. To the lido deck, the casino, and beyond!"

We start to take off just as I spot Elsie James, the buxom blonde, coming out of the theater.

"I'll catch up with you ladies," I say to Bess and Nettie as they take off into the crowd.

I'm about to head in Elsie's direction, but I'll be darned if she's not coming for me.

"Hi, Trixie." She offers a warm, yet mournful smile.

"Hey, Elsie. Did you enjoy the show?"

"I did, and boy do I feel guilty. The fact Roger is gone hasn't quite hit me yet." She casts a sideways glance at the crowd. "Of course, Connie has been soaking in the sun and enjoying the trip so I can't feel too bad."

"Oh wow," I say. "Actually, I did see her on deck myself." I keep the tidbit about her arguing with Shep, the dark-haired man, to myself for now. "Elsie, do you know if Connie and Roger were having any trouble in their relationship?"

She averts her eyes. "Are you kidding? Their relationship was built on trouble. Connie snagged Roger from his second wife a few years back. She's a true wench if ever there was one." She glares at the wall for a moment before something steals her attention from over my shoulder and she shudders. "Anyway, she's a tough nut to get along with despite the fact. I'm sure she's just sick about Roger's passing." She offers a pained smile.

"I'm sure she is," I say. "But I'm glad to see you're trying your best to enjoy the trip." I hitch my head toward the theater.

"I figure I may as well. I'm already here. Oh, speaking of which, you've got to see the silly prize I won earlier in that ship-wide treasure hunt. I've been working on it whenever I get a free minute, and I actually won the cutest little thing today." She goes to open her purse and its contents partially spill out, but she catches it with her skirt.

"Good save," I say with a laugh as several tissues, along with a phone, a wallet, and a glorious small blue bottle made of depression-era glass and crooked with a filigree silver heart nearly tumble right out.

"Wow, that's gorgeous," I say, helping her scoop it back where it belongs.

"Pirate's Pleasure," she says. "It's a floral perfume I picked up in New Orleans a few years back at Mardi Gras. If you ever go that way, you'll need to pick some up yourself. It's heaven in a bottle." She puts her purse back together and cinches it over her shoulder. "This is what I was trying to show you." She holds up a pair of sunglasses where one lens is made up to look like an eye patch. "And you can still see through it." She holds it up to the light and we share a laugh at the fact.

"That's so great. I'll have to hunt for a pair myself. Have a great rest of the night."

She glances at something over my shoulder. "You, too."

She takes off in haste and I turn around to follow her just as Wes and Ransom appear before me.

Wes is done up in his captain's finery, and Ransom looks lean and mean in an inky dark suit. If looks could kill, Ransom is downright lethal tonight.

"You missed the show," I say as Ransom pulls me in for a quick embrace.

"The show never ends on this ship," Wes says with a wink. "Ransom and I were just discussing the very same thing."

Ransom shakes his head. "It's a one-man show as far as the case is concerned—as in my show." He lands a quick kiss to my lips. "We're dropping Roger's body off in Barbados. I'm meeting with the port police and the coroner in the morning. I can assure you, I have everything under control." He takes a full breath and his chest expands the size of a door. "Would now be a good time to let me in on whatever has been bothering you?"

I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's anxious to know exactly what's been brewing.

"I should go," Wes says.

"No," Ransom says without missing a beat. "You seem to be in the know. I'm okay with you staying if Trixie is."

"I—" Holy mackerel. "I don't mind a bit." I cringe as the crowd dissipates around us, providing us with the exact amount of privacy we'll be needing. "This isn't exactly how I envisioned it." I glance at Wes and he shrugs.

"It's your call," he says.

I nod at Ransom. "Okay." I take up both of his hands in mine. "I love you so much. And I had no intention of keeping this from you. I mean, Wes sort of found out in a roundabout way and I had to out myself or—" He would have fitted me for a straitjacket by now. "Anyway, are you really ready to hear this?"

"I guarantee you"—Ransom offers a soft smile, and even though it dissipates as quick as it came, it warms me from head to toe—"nothing you say can spook me."

"Okay." I gird myself as I swallow hard. "Ransom"—it's as if my entire life blinks before my very eyes. This is it, our do-or-die moment. There will always be a before and an after. I'm just left to wonder how big of a fissure this will create in between. "I see ghosts." The words float from me just above a whisper.

Ransom tips his ear my way as if he didn't hear correctly just as both his phone and the captain's phone buzz.

"I'm sorry," Wes says, looking at his screen. "I'm needed at the bridge."

Ransom nods as he glances at his phone. "And we've got a tussle in one of the bars that's calling for my entire crew. I'm sorry." He pulls me in and offers a hearty embrace. "We'll do this without Wes. I can tell you're nervous, your sense of humor seems to take over." He dots a kiss on my lips before taking off.

"Wait," I say, but he's already gone. "He thought I was being funny."

Wes nods. "And little does he know, it's no laughing matter. Stay safe tonight," he says as he starts to take off. "He'll learn the truth soon enough."

"Yeah," I say as Wes, too, disappears into the crowd. "But will he believe me?"

Or will Ransom be the one who will land me in a straitjacket?

Nevertheless, I've got a ghost to contend with—and a killer to catch.

It's time I kicked my investigation into high gear.

Barbados, here we come—and Connie Parker, there's no way I'm letting you ghost me.