Page 36 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

He pecks his head to all sides of the room before zeroing in on individual audience members.

“You there, sir, in the blue jacket.” He points to a man to our left. “Something is troubling you. Something small and furry.” The man gasps as Alfonso tilts his head. “Ah, it’s your daughter’s hamster. The escape artist who vanished yesterday morning. Have her check behind the bookcase in her room, third shelf from the bottom.”

The man’s jaw drops. “How did you know? My daughter sent a frantic text to me and my wife this morning. She’s just sick over it.”

“She won’t be for long,” the woman seated next to him pipes up as she types something into her phone.

Bess leans my way. “Boy, is he good!”

I nod. “If it’s true, I guess he’sscarygood—or scary amazing.”

“And you, madam, with the lovely pearl necklace.” Alfonso points to a woman in black yoga clothes seated to our left. “You’re contemplating a major life change. Something about your hair?” She laughs as if affirming the fact and Alfonso offers a knowing smile in return. “Trust me, purple would be a mistake.”

The woman gasps, clutching her current blonde locks. “How did you know?” She can’t help but echo the sentiment of the first man. “What about pink?” she asks and the audience gives a riotous laugh.

“Now”—his gaze sweeps the crowd before landing on Bess—“you, my dear. Your profession—it’s something you’ve picked up after you retired.” He squints her way and bores his gaze into her as if he were seeing straight into her soul. “This has something to do with solving puzzles. Crosswords? Word searches?No!” He straightens dramatically. “No, this is something far bigger than that.”

“He’s onto you, Bessie,” Nettie whispers and I can’t help but wonder if he is indeed onto my dear friend.

I nod in agreement. And I wonder what else The Amazing Alfonso will reveal. Something tells me that if I had half of his seemingly supernatural skills, I could wrap up Brad Whipple’s murder investigation before first seating dinner tonight.

And then I could get right back to the only feast I’m interested in—the one with Ransom Baxter in my bed.

CHAPTER18

“Iknow your secret,” The Amazing Alfonso bellows, right here in the Queen’s Theater, as he points a white-gloved finger at Bess. “You solvemysteries,” he thunders and the room gasps at his epiphany. “You are a detective. And I think you’re quite good at it as well.”

A light applause breaks out in Bess’ honor.

My heart thumps hard in my chest, because let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Bess and Nettie have been just as instrumental in helping me track down every killer we’ve caught—and some might argue they’ve been far more instrumental than the ghosts that have come down to help.

Somewould be me.

Bess straightens. “Lucky guess,” she shouts up at him and the room breaks out in laughter. And it was. That man has been on the ship long enough to have figured that out.

“Perhaps.” Alfonso winks her way. “But I’m also sensing something about... knitting needles? Yes, you recently took up knitting, but you’re keeping it hush-hush. Worried it might damage your professional reputation?”

I can’t help but chuckle. Bess doesnotknit. If she did, I’d be the first to know. Well, right after Nettie.

Bess huffs at the thought. “How did you know that?” she cries out and the room gasps with glee.

“What?” I say as I lean back to better inspect the woman I thought I knew. “When did this happen?”

Becky Lee leans past me. “I just love knitting! We’ll talk after.”

The room quiets down once again while I try to surmise who this stranger sitting to my right is. And more importantly, how Alfonso picked up on something that clearly Bess gave him no clue about.

There’s no way this guy is a real-deal mind reader. It was probably just a lucky guess on his part. I mean, most older women take up knitting at some point in their lives.

I shoot a sly glance at Nettie and she shakes her head my way as if to refute my point.

Alfonso turns to me next, and something in his expression shifts. “And you, my ethereal beauty in pink.” He gives a tiny wink and I make a face, because clearly that was a dig at this cocktail disaster Elodie has forced upon me. I’d cause less of a scene walking around in a bathrobe, or perhaps in the nude (and that’s saying something else entirely).

“Another detective,” he declares while pointing right at me.

This time it’s me gasping.

He nods my way. “But you see things others cannot. Isn’t that true? Things that shouldn’t be possible. Things that float and pass through walls.”

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