Page 62 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

“Ooh.” Sassy shimmies her shoulders as well as she inspects the ample buffet, already being replenished by the waitstaff. “Oh, how I miss chocolate fountains.” She sighs. “Although not as much as I miss that leather-clad ghost hunter.” She sighs twice as hard in the leather-clad ghost hunter’s direction.

“What do you mean miss?” I practically mouth the words as she glides down next to me. “I thought you were stalking Reed,” I whisper, but Tinsley catches it anyway.

“Why would I do that?” Tinsley snips as she rocks back on her heels to get a better look at me. “He’s so not my type. Besides, you heard the blonde bimbo in pink.” She nods in the direction Elodie took off in. “He’s happily taken.”

“Tell me about it.” Sassy blows out an exasperated breath and releases a galaxy worth of stars in her wake.

“Taken by whom?” I ask, not bothering to lower my voice this time. I squint in his direction and he still has an arm wrapped around Elvie’s waist as iftheywere the couple in question.

“By the woman of the hour,” Sassy growls in their direction, and the chandeliers tremble ominously in response.

“What?” I shake my head in disbelief.

We watch as Reed whispers something in Elvie’s ear, before his lips brush against her cheek in what could easily be mistaken for a kiss. He steps away and melts into the crowd as Elvie drifts toward the observation windows all by her lonesome.

Her champagne glass may be empty, but her expression is chock-full of secrets.

I make my beeline toward her with Tinsley and my invisible sparkler of a ghost in tow.

After all, nothing says Midnight Murder Mingle quite like confronting a widow about her new romance—especially when that romance might have started before her husband stopped breathing.

CHAPTER33

The observation windows frame the darkness, the kind of onyx night that only exists at sea at midnight.

Elvie stands alone and her reflection looks like a ghost against the void beyond the glass. Her burgundy gown glows sanguine and sinister in the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” I say as Tinsley and I come upon her—and, well, Sassy by floating proxy, too.

Elvie jumps nearly a foot in the air as if we just fired a starting pistol.

“Oh.” She clutches at her chest once she sees us. “Geez. You nearly scared the ghost right out of me.”

“Ooh, that would be fun.” Sassy wiggles as she says it and unleashes an entire sea of pink stars in the process. “I can’t wait until Elvie gets to Paradise. We always got along so great. Although maybe she should wait untilafterwe solve her husband’s murder.”

“Sorry about the scare.” I wince as I say it. Believe me, I want her alive when and if we squeeze a confession out of her. And by we, I meanme.

“Not to worry.” Elvie is quick to wave the idea away. “I was just getting lost in thought when I really should be getting lost in the party.”

“And it’s quite the party,” I tell her.

“The event is stunning,” Tinsley says, tipping her ear toward the woman. “Although I question whoever decided to name the shrimp cocktail Evidence in Cold Storage.”

The three of us share a laugh—four if you count Sassy.

“That was Reed’s idea.” Elvie’s smile wavers for a moment. “He has a particular talent for clever wordplay.”

Sassy sighs. “He’s pretty clever in other ways, too.”

I’d rather not know. Unless, of course, they have to do with wielding a knife.

“Elvie, I really want to extend my condolences once a—” I begin, but Tinsley rudely cuts me off at the pass.

“Mrs. Whipple, could you explain your whereabouts on the night in question? Aka the night of the murder?”

I suck in a quick breath and resist the urge not to elbow her in the ribs.

Oh, what the heck. I elbow her not-so-gently. “Tinsley, this isn’t an interrogation. Besides, we already know where she was.” I offer a meager smile to the poor woman before us who looks as stunned as she does peeved. “She was speaking with Reed.”

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