Page 19 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

My mouth falls open. A soirée hosted by my top suspect? Heck, she’s my one and only suspect. With a focus on beauty and food? Now that’s what I call the breakfast of champions.

“I hope you don’t mind if I crash the party,” I say innocently. “You know I’m all about glam and carbs these days.”

Nettie gives a dark laugh. “We know exactly what you’re up to these days. Some hot and heavy time with your honey, and some hot and heavy time with a killer or two.”

“You do know me well,” I say with a curve of my lips.

I’m willing to bet Elvie Whipple will be at that event. And now so will I.

After all, nothing pairs better with murder than a mid-morning makeover. It’s time to see what secrets are hiding behind all that luxury lipstick and that killer smile of hers.

And if the last locale of that sparkly brooch is any indication—Elvie Whipple might be a killer indeed.

CHAPTER9

While Trixie’s Away, the Ship Will Play—The Elodie Edition

Welcome back, maritime adventurers! While our favorite newlyweds are still gathering evidence in their suite (and honestly, who can blame them with those ocean views—and views of each other), let’s tackle another pressing question.

Dear Elodie,

Help! I signed up for the midnight stargazing class on deck, but I’m worried it might be boring. Any suggestions for making it more interesting?

Starboard Stargazer

Oh honey,

Trust me, there is nothing boring about being out on deck after dark. The sea breeze, the moonlight, those strategically placed lounge chairs… Stargazing is all about positioning, my love.

While the astronomer drones on about constellations, you could be conducting your own study of heavenly bodies. Just remember that the ship’s telescopes are for celestial observations only—although I’ve heard the security cameras have excellent night vision. Beware.

Pro tip: Those plush deck blankets they provide aren’t just for warmth. Though you might want to request a fresh one. Just saying.

Twinkling and Tantalizing,

XOXO Elodie

P.S. If the crew asks, you definitely saw the Big Dipper. Whether you were looking up at the time is irrelevant.

Trixie

“So let me get this straight,”Bess says as the two of us, along with Nettie, make our way to the Coral Crown Lounge. “Your ghostly friend spent the entire night critiquing your honeymoon performance?”

“Like she was judging the Olympics,” I confirm, still mortified. “Complete with numerical scores and style points.”

“Did you at least get a perfect ten?” Nettie asks as her gray hair bounces with each step.

“No, but she did give us extra credit for artistic interpretation,” I admit, sending both women into a fit of laughter that echoes down the corridor.

I’d laugh, too, if the thought of entertaining the dead on my honeymoon didn’t make me want to cry.

The Coral Crown Lounge sparkles like a fairy tale come to life. The crystal chandeliers glimmer like stars across the seafoam green walls. Rows and rows of tables are set out with lavender linens, and there’s an arrangement of white orchids floating in mercury glass bowls set on each and every one of them.

It all looks as elegant as elegant can be.

The floor-to-ceiling windows to the right expose the cobalt sea, and out near the horizon there’s another cruise ship about to pass us by. The crew always considers that good luck. And heaven knows theEmerald Queencould use a healthy dose of luck these days.

A sign near the door, written in swooping rose-gold font, announcesWhere Beauty Meets Brunch—Prepare to be Deliciously Transformed.Below that, added in smaller text, it readsWarning: Side effects may include feeling irresistible.

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