Chapter 24
Suddenly Single—What a Trip!
Hey, Trixie. It's me, Ned. Guess what? I met with Shelby, and after a long, heartfelt talk, we decided to support each other and accompany one another to therapy. And if you can believe it, our conversation ended with a steamy kiss! I couldn't be a happier man. All of this happened on what was supposed to be my divorce celebration cruise. Can you believe it? Life sure has a funny way of turning things around when you least expect it.
Over the smooching moon,
Ned
Dear Smooching,
Wow, talk about taking a U-turn! From a divorce celebration to a rekindled romance on the high seas, you and Shelby are truly setting sail on a new adventure. I'm so glad to hear you're supporting each other and taking steps toward therapy together. And a steamy kiss to boot? It seems the cruise ship isn't the only thing making waves. Here's to navigating these waters together and discovering what lies on the horizon for you both.
XOXO Trixie
As we trudgeup Gros Piton, the lush scenery around us is completely lost on Elodie and Tinsley, who are too busy sharpening their claws on each other to notice. And by the looks of it, they're about to break out into a catfight.
Elodie looks adorable with her blonde bob bouncing with her every step, her pink yoga shorts, and a tiny matching tank top.
Meanwhile, Tinsley has chosen to mock our fellow passengers with a white puffy blouse, a ratty blue skirt, and what looks to be a dead parrot tethered to her right shoulder, that's currently face down.
"I've had about enough of you," Elodie snips at Tinsley while trying to increase her steps in an effort to escape the seafaring witch by her side. "I'm surprised you can navigate a mountain trail as well as you navigate the boardroom. Though, I suppose, in both places, you're used to backstabbing."
"There are no boardrooms on board the ship," Tinsley snips back. "That just shows how little you know about the EmeraldQueen. And from what I hear from the mall staff, you're not above a little backstabbing yourself. Besides, I'd rather be known for my ambition than for leaving a trail of broken hearts across every continent we've traveled. About how many of your exes do you think it would take for you to fill this volcano we're standing on? Lord knows you have enough of them."
Just my luck I'm climbing a volcano. I should really look into these excursions a bit more before committing. Sure, justice is fun, but then so is not falling into a bubbling cauldron.
"Not as many as it takes to fill the void of your personality, sweetie," Elodie shoots back. She's always been a master of the zingers. "At least my relationships are exciting. Yours are like your taste in fashion—predictable."
"I'm sure Wes and Ransom would take umbrage with that since I've actively dated them both, and I believe the keyword to define my time with men would be passionate."
Wonderful. As if I needed the reminder.
"Passionate?" Elodie scoffs. "Is that what we're calling desperate these days? I'm pretty sure the keyword for you would be boring."
"I'd rather be boring than a cautionary tale." Tinsley gives a dark laugh. "Remember Marco? The one who left you for his yoga instructor?"
"Oh hon, he didn't let me go. I cut him loose." Elodie sets the record straight. "And if I remember correctly, you ended up having a fling with him, too. You always did have a hankering for my leftovers." She nods up ahead where Shep is chatting away. "Brace yourself, Tinsley, because when I'm done with him, I might just leave you another bone to pick clean."
"Oh no, you don't. I'm the one who gets to sink her teeth into that juicy steak first." Tinsley pulls her to the side and their sniping continues, each barb sharper than the last, leaving me wondering which one will throw the other off the side of the mountain first.
As we begin our final ascent up Gros Piton, many steep inclines and a shoddy staircase later, I do my best to scan the crowd for any signs of my final suspect, who, for reasons unknown, seems to have done a disappearing act. Here's hoping Elodie and Tinsley didn't throw him off the side of the mountain instead.
"That's it. I give up." I sigh as I head over to an unoccupied vista where the views of the island below are breathtaking if not hypnotic.
A small bout of vertigo sets in due to the dizzying heights we've just climbed. But the fact the ocean glows like a turquoise jewel and the sand zigzags along the coast like a white satin ribbon more than makes up for it.
Someone steps in next to me and I look over to see Shep Murphy himself struggling to take the perfect selfie while leaning as far into the wooden railing as it will allow.
"Need a hand with that?" I offer with a grin as my shiny new suspect plays right into my dizzy little hands.
"That would be fantastic, actually," he says. "I'm failing miserably here," he admits, handing me his phone with a chuckle. "I'm Shep Murphy, pirate in training. Thank you for this. I really appreciate it."
"It's my pleasure. I'm Trixie Troublefield. I'm actually with the ship. I teach the art classes." I step back, aiming to frame him with the sunny island in all its glory. "All right, hit me with your best pirate poses," I tease, clicking away as he shifts from one over-the-top pose to another before I return his phone.
"There you go, Captain Murphy. Now you have proof of your brave conquests," I quip as we share a quick laugh.
Shep scrolls through the photos and his laughter subsides into a smile. "Thanks, Trixie. These are actually pretty good. You've got a real talent. I should know, I make a living off social media content."
"Oh? You have your own company?"
"That's right. In fact, I run the social media for the Jolly Roger Crew."
"That sounds like a lot of fun," I say, even though I already knew that tidbit about his social media prowess. "I'm really sorry about your loss. I can't imagine how hard this must be on everyone in your group."
"Connie is taking it the hardest." He winces. "She and Roger had been together for a little bit now."
"Oh? I thought they were together for a while."
"They were, but let's just say it was in a clandestine manner, you might say. Connie is the one who ripped Roger away from his last ex. And I hate to say it, but Connie and Roger had just started in on a messy breakup when the ship set sail. Connie solidified the fact Roger was stepping out on her again. He was a notorious womanizer."
"That's too bad for Connie. And I can't imagine how hard it would be to break up with your boyfriend just as you set sail on a dream cruise. I mean, Roger passed away that first night so it had to have happened then."
"It did." He ticks his head to the side. "Let's just say the fireworks started at the welcome party. Connie got the evidence she was looking for and things only blew up from there."
"Awkward," I say.
"Even more so since Connie worked for Jolly Roger."
"Oh, I thought Connie was an author?"
"She is," he says with a shrug. "But I guess her trashy pirate romances don't make enough to keep the lights on. She's been doing the bookkeeping for Jolly Roger Spirits for a couple of years now. There have been more than a few fireworks over her employment there as well. Roger wasn't exactly happy with the way she added and subtracted from the treasure chest whenever she felt the need."
"Was she dipping her hand in the cookie jar? I mean, treasure chest."
"Roger seemed to think so. But then again, he must have been okay with it. Nothing much happened with that. I mean, he didn't call the cops on her—just yet. I'm sure once Connie dumped him, he would have gone after what was his."
"That he would have," a deep voice says and I turn to see Hank floating this way, snakes for a beard and all. "Roger loved his bank account almost as much as he liked a pretty girl."
Makes sense. Connie must have seen the legal writing on the wall, and I'm guessing orange isn't her favorite color. Which would also make for a strong motive to get rid of Roger.
"Thanks for the pictures." Shep holds up his phone.
"Wait," I say before he takes off. "What do you know about this mysterious Mr. X?"
Shep leans back and examines the crowd for a moment. "I know three things. They're the mastermind behind Jolly Roger. The company would be nothing without them. And I know for a fact they're on the ship with us."
"What makes you so sure?" My heart thumps wildly as I ask.
"Let's just say Mr. X isn't that big of a mystery to me." His lips curve at the thought. "Roger should never have underestimated them."
He takes off before I can shake any more info out of him. I'm about to track him down and leap onto his back just as Wes and Ransom make their way over, their faces red-hot and angry. I'm hoping that has more to do with the intense hike and less with the intense truth bomb I dropped yesterday.
"Ransom," I say as I make my way in their direction. "Quick, give me your hand. Hank Silverman is here—he's the ghost who's come to help with Roger's murder. The two of them used to be business partners. And once you hold my hand, you'll be able to hear him, too."
It's true. I sort of act like a bad game of telephone if you happen to touch my flesh while there's a disembodied spirit in our midst.
"You, too, Wes," I say, taking up the captain's hand, but Ransom stays safely out of reach.
"What's this?" Hanks says, floating over and observing the three of us. "Is there an unbeliever among the ranks?" The snakes attached to his face all hiss at once at the thought.
"Not for long," I say, waving for Ransom to take my hand. "Come on, Ransom. I can't wait for you to meet him. Hank has some great insight into the inner workings of Roger Maxwell's mind."
Ransom offers a stern look to Wes and then to our conjoined hands.
"Is this why you're placating her?" he asks. "I should have known your intent to believe Trixie had something to do with your ongoing obsession with her."
"Ransom." I meant for it to sound like a reprimand, but it just sounds pathetic.
"I'm sorry, Trixie," he seethes as he looks at Wes before hooking his gaze to mine. "But I care about you too much to play along."
A whistle goes off in the background and it's our guide letting us know it's time to make our way back down the trail.
The three of us start in on a silent descent as Hank Silverman ironically floats up into the sky like a helium balloon gone rogue.
Ransom most certainly doesn't believe me.
In fact, he thinks my sanity has floated off like a helium balloon, too.
I don't know why I ever thought he'd be able to wrap his sane head around my insane reality. It's asking far too much.
And a part of me thinks it's asking far too much for him to stand by my side after this, too.
It turns out, there are two killers aboard the Emerald Queen—the person who offed Roger Maxwell—and me, the person who offed a perfectly good relationship with the best man I have ever met.