Chapter 29

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Hello, Trixie, it's me, Brenda. It looks as if Shelby and Ned have come full circle, back to square one—miserable, broke, and flying solo. Who would've thought their roller coaster would loop right back to the starting line? Any advice for a friend trying to navigate the aftermath?

Concerned,

Brenda

Dear Concerned,

Ah, the classic tale of what goes around comes around, but honestly, did it have to take the scenic route? Here's a thought—maybe being back at square one isn't the worst. It's a chance for a true reset, not just for their bank accounts, but for their hearts as well. Encourage Shelby and Ned to find the silver lining in their solo flights. After all, being broke can be fixed, being alone can be a path to self-discovery, and being miserable is just a temporary state of mind. They've got a blank page, and it's time to start a new chapter that's both financially wiser and emotionally richer. And who knows? This could be the plot twist where they find their true fortunes.

XOXO Trixie

"Where are they?"Hank growls it out like a menace. "Let me at them. I might just be moved to add another soul to paradise tonight. Although, I think we both know they won't be allowed past the pearly gates."

We speed back toward the heart of the revelry here on the promenade deck, and the music only seems to grow louder, the crowd that much more boisterous as colorful cocktails abound. And those swashbucklers across the way are getting a lesson on how to dance your way out of the working end of a sword.

"I said enough," a deep voice growls and I turn around to find Ransom shoving a hand to the captain's chest. "Don't you dare insinuate that you know what I'm going to do next."

"You're going to ruin things between the two of you," Wes shoots back.

"You've already done that by your ridiculous compliance."

"Compliance?" I say, starting in that direction, but before I can get a few steps in I spot my one and only suspect.

"This will have to wait," Hank says, putting a ghostly hand out to block me.

"I wholeheartedly agree." I'm about to turn away when I spot both Wes and Ransom arming themselves with a couple of gleaming swords before they go right at it. "Oh, for Pete's sake—or Blackbeard's sake should I say?"

"How about Roger's sake?" Hank thunders. "Do not let that woman get away."

I look up and she's right in front of me.

It's Elsie James in all of her buxom blonde, pirate glory. Her hair is held back with a red bandana, she's donned a black and white dress that's tattered and torn, and she has a gold sash around her waist that glitters under the string lights.

"Trixie." She laughs. "Are you here for the dueling lessons, too?"

"I don't have a partner," I say just above a whisper.

"Well, you do now." She tosses me a sword and takes one up herself as those behind us grunt and groove as they do their best to avoid losing an eye in the process. "Prepare to die," she sings the words out with a laugh, and yet I don't see the humor in them.

"Don't worry, Trixie," Hank grumbles. "She's taken her last life. It's her turn to die. Spear her in the heart and I'll take it from there."

"Absolutely not." I pant out a laugh.

"Well then," Elsie says as she jabs her sword my way. "It looks as if I've got a worthy opponent on my hands."

"You've got more on your hands than you're bargaining for." I try to swallow down the adrenaline rush, but it's pointless. I'm so hopped up, I could float right off the ship along with Hank.

"Ha." She laughs right in my face as she jabs me near the stomach. "We'll see about that."

"Yes, we will," I say, tossing the tip of her sword off of me with my own. "Elsie, the night of Roger's death, we met at the dessert buffet. You had a bright blue drink in each hand. You said Connie had asked for them."

Her mouth falls open. "She did."

"Was one of the drinks for Connie?" I cock my head her way and avoid another jab from her sword.

"It sure was. She asked me to get her and Roger a couple of cocktails and I was more than happy to comply." Her lips press white. "In fact, I gave them to her directly. I don't know where Roger was at that point."

"The drinks"—I pant as I jive and jab—"they were blue. I did a little research. It turns out, Blackbeard's Brew is blue, too."

Her feet pause from dancing around.

"So is Mermaid's Punch," she says. "So are a lot of cocktails."

"You're the one who served that cocktail to Roger that night, aren't you?" I ask as I back her into a corner away from the rest of the pirates dancing around with a blade in their hands. "Connie didn't want it, or ask for it, because she doesn't drink alcohol."

Her eyes widen a notch. "I don't know what she did with those drinks once I handed them to her. All I know is she asked for them and I complied."

"Roger had a bright blue line stained across his lips when he died."

"I think all people's lips eventually turn blue, Trixie," she says as her expression grows more serious. "Roger was dead after all."

Hank vibrates with a howl. "Don't let up on her, Trixie," he bellows.

I don't plan on it.

"Toxicology reports came back conclusive to the fact that Roger was poisoned—with the same compounds that were in Blackbeard's' Brew." Or I'm betting the report will say just that.

She inches back. "What exactly are you accusing me of here? I thought we were friends, Trixie."

"I thought we were, too. It makes me wonder why you befriended me to begin with. Is it so you could point a finger at Connie and Shep? Because you did an expert job at that. But neither of them killed Roger and neither of them is Mr. X."

"Connie has a degree in molecular biology," she screams right at me as if I wasn't getting the message, and a thought comes to me.

"Oh my goodness," I say, lowering my sword a notch. "The night Roger died, you said that he did like to try out his liquor—that there were lots of formulas you've gone over. Implying that you were the one going over the formulas with him."

She gags as she backs up near an abandoned nook. "Now how would I, an event planner, know anything about formulas? I must have meant testing out his new bottles. I will admit, I'm sort of an expert at that. Unlike Connie, I'm not averse to the taste or smell."

I shake my head as another conversation comes back to me. "You mentioned that you didn't go to college. Instead, you waited tables and did some bartending. It was you! You're the top mixologist Roger hired. It all makes sense. You were the one he was spending all his time with—all those long nights." I suck in a quick breath. "You were having an affair with him. You mentioned a recent breakup. He was the bad boy who broke your heart."

"And she broke mine," Hank growls. "When she stopped it from beating!" he thunders.

I inch back. "You—Elsie, you killed Hank?"

"What?" she hisses, her face turning pale in this dim light. "No, I didn't mean to?—"

"You killed him because he wasn't on board with Blackbeard's Brew—because it was under the table stuff. I bet you stood to make some real money with this. It must be hard to make it on an event planner's salary, especially since you mentioned that Jolly Roger Spirits is your only gig."

"I didn't mean to kill him." Her lips quiver as she pants. "He was supposed to get the message and retire. That man was stepping on some serious toes and he didn't know it."

"I know it now, missy," he growls as he takes over my body and forces my arms to push her back a few feet and she stumbles to the floor.

"I'm so sorry," I say to the woman and Hank growls once again.

"And I'm far from it," he seethes.

"You did this," I say to her as I struggle to catch my breath. "You set Connie up by giving her distressing news as we set foot on the ship because you knew she would go off in front of everyone. And that would certainly take the heat off of you. Oh, and that bottle—the fancy little bottle of perfume—the blue one—that nearly spilled out of your purse the night we were outside of the theater. That's where you hid the poison. You said it was from New Orleans. And it may have been, but the poison inside was straight from your kitchen."

Her head tips back, and her eyes slit to nothing—an affirmation if ever there was one.

"And now that Roger is dead—" I straighten as my fingers ride to my lips. "You said he wasn't holding up his end of the bargain. He thought you were bullying him. You're Mr. X. That means Roger left his company in your hands!"

A dark look falls over her face as she rises to her feet and takes a menacing step in my direction.

"So you've figured it out. Yes, I killed Hank, just like I killed Roger." A wicked laugh trembles from her. "But I had to do it. Hank was in the way. Roger said so himself. And Roger—he was just using me for both my body and my mind. He was trying to push me out of the company. He said he didn't need any more formulas. He said Mr. X was officially dead. He said once we got back from the cruise, he was going to start the legal wheels rolling to buy me out. He was going to lowball me, Trixie. That man was evil."

"I'm sorry, Elsie. But that doesn't justify two homicides. It ends here. You've been caught."

"Well, that's just wonderful," she snips. "Tinsley was telling me all about how you were the best detective on this ship—right after she mentioned she wouldn't mind watching you walk the plank. Too bad she'll miss what she wanted to see most because I'm going to make sure that's exactly what you'll do. Say goodbye to this life, Trixie. You're not heading back to Fort Lauderdale with us. You're getting off this ship tonight."

She grabs ahold of me by my arms and jerks me toward the railing. And in one herculean move, I'm dangling on the wrong side of it.

I glance down at the glowing blue water as it streams by and a scream gets locked in my throat.