Chapter 12

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Trip Tip: If you're feeling indecisive at the buffet, just remember it's perfectly okay to sample everything. You're not being gluttonous, you're conducting a valuable taste test for the greater good of cruise cuisine. On the bright side, you've already paid for all of it!

Within the hour Bess,Nettie, and I are on the sunny shores of Barbados.

"Okay, team," I start, half-teasing. "Operation Befriend Connie is a go. Any ideas on how to cozy up to our first suspect?"

Nettie raises a brow. "A thousand dollars for dirty shoes? That's our in. We compliment her ridiculous—I mean exquisite taste in footwear."

Bess frowns. "And what? Hope she invites us to the deep end of the ocean because we like her overpriced sneakers?"

"Not just any sneakers." Nettie gravels out a laugh. "A thousand dollars' worth of dirty treasure on her feet. It's like wearing a talk to me about my dirty spending habits sign."

"Wonderful," Bess muses. "We're attempting to find common ground in the form of outrageously expensive sneakers."

I shrug her way. "It wouldn't be the first time women have bonded over pricey shoes."

Stepping off the Emerald Queen and into the balmy embrace of Barbados is like walking into a postcard that has come to life. The island greets us with its warmth, both from the sun above and the friendly smiles that seem to be a natural trait of the locals. Our destination this afternoon is Carlisle Bay, a name that's been whispered among the Jolly Roger Crew with a bit of reverence out on the gangway, and now that I know there are shipwrecks to be explored, it's easy to see why.

We take a short bus ride courtesy of the tour company then are quickly shuttled onto a series of pontoon boats. And just my luck, Connie isn't with us on this leg of the trip. Her pontoon sailed without us.

But that's okay.

I've already decided that we're going to enjoy this part of the adventure, and then when the pontoons drop us back off on the beach, I'm going to have an entirely different adventure. One that Ransom most likely would not approve of. But he's not here, is he?

Both Ransom and Wes are actually escorting Roger Maxwell's body off the ship and straight to the nearest coroner's office—just in case it pans out to be a homicide (their words, not mine). With our long history of homicides aboard the Emerald Queen, I can see why they'd want to get down to homicidal brass tacks.

The captain of our pontoon tells us a brief history of the bay and the fact there are six shipwrecks waiting to be explored. He goes into detail about how and why they all landed there and I'm so fascinated, I'm starting to feel a little bit like a pirate myself.

The first is a former cargo ship that met its watery end during a fierce storm. Its hull was breached by the merciless waves. Near that are the remains of a luxury yacht that lie scattered about. Apparently, it was the victim of navigation gone awry in the dead of night, and just like that, its opulent history sank into the deep.

The third wreck is a military vessel from a bygone era, torpedoed in a covert operation that remains shrouded in secrecy. Nearby, a pirate ship is rumored to have been cursed by its plundered treasures and it now rests eerily intact—its mast is still reaching toward the surface as if vying for one final plea for redemption.

The fifth wreck is a research vessel that disappeared under mysterious circumstances, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and apparently more than a few scientific mysteries. And the last is a modern-day freighter that succumbed to a fire on board.

Every last shipwreck is a stark reminder of the ocean's unforgiving nature.

Carlisle Bay unfurls before us like a turquoise ribbon with its water as clear as glass and as inviting as a cool drink on a hot day—this hot day, in fact. The white sandy beach in the distance sits in contrast to the gorgeous lush greenery that's nestled behind it.

Soon, the captain drops anchor and we're all invited to hop into the aquamarine waters.

Bess, Nettie, and I jump into the sea with our fins on, adjusting our masks as we submerge ourselves. The water is cool but feels refreshing compared to the heat and the humidity, and it has the three of us sighing at once.

"And away we go," Nettie cries as we land the mouthpieces where they belong and start in on our adventure.

Snorkeling isn't your run-of-the-mill activity. It's an immersion into a whole other world.

The first thing that strikes me is the clarity of the crystal blue water. It's as if the ocean has been just waiting to show off its beauty to us. Not only is the water clear, but there's an entire array of coral in every color and fish of every size that are equally as colorful for us to look at.

The entire seabed is a mosaic of colors, textures, and soft lullaby-like movements. Schools of fish dart by in flashes of silver and gold while scraggly-looking creatures lurk near the ocean floor, some camouflaged against the coral and rocks, some not.

And then there are the sea turtles.

Sea turtles!

Each one is a light brown, leathery-looking happy little creature—some not so little—and some are as big and round as a coffee table.

Oh, they are the most glorious, elegant beings you ever did see under water. One of them even seems to wave as he floats on by as if he were flirting. And, of course, Nettie does her best to flirt right back.

The sunlight filters through the water, casting glittery patterns on everything it touches and I wish I had thought to bring my waterproof camera to capture the beauty.

The thick sound of silence is marred with the occasional bubbles that fill my ears. All of time seems to slow down and suddenly the hustle and bustle of the ship, the worries of the case, and even my troubles with Ransom feel a million miles away.

But it's the shipwrecks that steal the show. Bess, Nettie, and I float slowly above each underwater spectacle, and I can't help but feel connected to everything around me. It's as if with each flutter of our fins we discover a new secret that the sea has to offer.

The shipwrecks are spectacular algae-covered works of art—ghosts of a different kind, lying silent on the ocean floor. Each one is an underwater museum, with its own story to tell, and its very own place in history.

Swimming through these relics is a lot like swimming through the mysteries that I've solved over the past year. Every moment there's something new to be discovered, another clue to a bigger picture—or to a bigger puzzle before me.

Here's hoping I can gather enough clues to solve Roger Maxwell's murder. Our cruise may have just started, but it won't last forever. If there's a killer on board, the days of my investigation are numbered—and so are the days of that killer.

As we approach the next shipwreck, Nettie takes off ahead and seems to be plucking something from the ship below us. I'm no expert, but I'd venture to guess that's a big no-no considering this entire area is a marine preserve.

Bess swims after her and does her best to pluck Nettie away from the wreckage, but it's too late. There's something solid in Nettie's hand, and judging by her grip on it, she's not letting go.

She gives a thumbs-up and we all float to the surface.

"What in the world are you thinking?" Bess cries out as the three of us do our best to catch our breath.

"I found gold," Nettie cries as she hoists the rounded, pronged-looking glob of seaweed toward the sky. "This is something solid, I can feel it," she says, plucking the muck off the object. And, sure enough, it looks like it might be a rusted something or other.

"What is that?" I say, reaching for it, but Nettie holds it farther out of my grasp.

"Don't you see? It's a crown," she says, jabbing the thing onto her head until it's tangled up in the gray matter she calls hair.

"Oh, good grief," Bess groans. "You can't go stealing crowns, or crows, or even big blobs of green muck from this place. I demand you take that thing off your head and we take it back where we found it. For all we know that thing is cursed."

"Cursed?" Nettie's mouth falls open with a silent scream. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you try to stop me?" she howls as she struggles to remove what looks to be a six-pronged tiara from her head but no dice.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Bess cries in exasperation as she, too, tries to remove the thing. "You've done it now. This thing has all but rooted onto your skull. We'd better get back to the boat before the Prince of Ocean Darkness suctions you down to the bottom of the wreck you plucked that thing from."

Nettie starts in on nothing short of a panic as Bess and I do our best to get her back to the pontoon. Soon enough, the rest of the tour company joins us, and all the way to shore Nettie pitches a fit, losing herself in hysterics, shouting out the fact she's now the Queen of the Underworld, and something about how the Grim Reaper's aquatic cousin is chasing after the boat—her specifically.

It's safe to say the rest of the passengers all but leap off that pontoon once we're back at the dock.

Bess and I manage to wrangle Nettie back to the white sandy beach where we're to remain for the next hour or so before we board the bus and head back to the ship.

"I'm gonna die," Nettie cries out, still sopping wet with her hair tangled around her face so you can't tell if she's coming or going.

It's a scary look.

People recoil at the sight of her, children scream for their mothers—and come to think of it, Nettie is screaming for her mother, too.

"Don't worry," I say. "We'll get this thing off of you and chuck it back into the deep blue sea where it belongs."

"Are you kidding?" Nettie balks at the thought. "This could be Captain Sparrow's lost gold crown! I could be rich. We could retire and sail around the world until we die."

"We are retired and sailing around the world until we die." Bess shakes her head. "Although one of us seems to be tempting fate more than the other two."

"It was nice knowing you, Trix," Nettie says, deadpan.

"I meant you," Bess shouts. "So I wouldn't go getting excited about living off the sale of this ancient, barnacle-encrusted hunk of junk you've got yourself tangled up in. Right now, I'd pay a nickel for a sword-wielding pirate to hack it off your noggin."

"How about we find a lifeguard instead?" I say to Bess as Nettie starts in on another panicked ruckus, this time in fear of a sword-wielding pirate. "Maybe they can help extract the crown of horror off of her."

"I see one now." Bess points toward the shore, and just as we're about to move in that direction, I spot someone who might be able to help me with another problem entirely.

A murder.

"Go on ahead with her," I say to Bess. "I'll catch up."

We split ways as Bess and Nettie take off in search of a savior in a Speedo, and I head for what could be the devil in a bikini.