Page 9 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

“Did you say cosmetics?” Elodie comes to life at the thought.

Elodie is a girl’s girl through and through. I’m pretty sure cosmetics is one of her love languages.

“That’s right.” Elvie nods her way. “They’re not only beautiful to look at, they’re delicious to eat. I specialize in edible cosmetics as well as edible lotions and potions.”

Elodie gasps—at the carnal implications, no doubt.

“I need your entire line,” she practically shouts. “Likeyesterday. The ship’s boutique is always looking for new luxury brands, and I just know these will sell out fast.” Her gaze shifts to Brad. “I can spot a sexy winner a mile away.”

Again, good grief.

At this rate, Elodie will be lucky if Elvie doesn’t poison her by way of those lotions and potions for so brazenly admiring her husband.

Although if I poisoned all the women who so brazenly admire my brand-new husband, half the female population would be dead overnight. And once the women on the other side of the world woke up, I’d be forced to do away them as well. That would leave me as the last female standing. And I’m far past the age of propagating humanity, so the human takeover of the planet would be officially over.

“Well, it’s your lucky day,” Elvie says to Elodie as her smile turns predatory—to be fair, both Elvie and Elodie are sporting rather predatory grins. “I brought a trunk full of products,” Elvie tells us. “I figured it would be like fishing with dynamite on this ship—wealthy women trapped at sea with nothing but time and credit cards.”

“Ooh,” Elodie purrs once again. “That’s exactly how I conduct business. It’s a dream every single time my shop doors open.”

The lights in the lounge flicker and we all turn in that direction.

“Well, well, ladies”—Brad gives a slight bow our way—“it’s time to head inside and have akillergood time.”

A chill runs up my spine. Something tells me he means it in the literal sense.

And if that woman I saw earlier is indeed a ghost, then that means someone is about to have a killer time indeed.

CHAPTER5

Inside, the Neptune Lounge has been transformed from a nautical haven to a true crime shrine.

Rows of chairs have been set out, all facing front for what I’m guessing will be a welcome presentation. To the left, there’s a refreshment table brimming with donuts of every shape, size, and color, along with a coffee bar whose scent is quickly putting me into a hypnotic trance.

Displays of authentic serial killer memorabilia line the tables near the front and Bess, Nettie, and I quickly migrate in that direction.

The tables are laden with letters, photographs, and what appears to be a vintage microphone cord labeledThe Strangler’s Choice, circa 1962. There’s also a hunter’s knife with a jagged serrated edge that looks as if it could do some real damage with not much effort. And judging by the fact it’s on that table, I think it already has. There’s a note next to it that suggests it was a part of the Butcher of Baker Street’s private collection of weaponry.

“Geez.” I clutch at my chest as we inspect the killer goods. “Morbid much?”

“Says the woman who chats with ghosts,” Bess whispers my way along with a wink.

A stocky woman with prematurely gray hair bumps into me, juggling her knitting needles and a stack of true crime-themed tote bags. The one on top readsMy Favorite Hobby is Murder... Podcastsin elegant script. It’s then I note her long purple knit cardigan and recognize her as the woman handing out the drinks earlier.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she says with a mournful laugh. “I didn’t mean to attack you. These bags have a mind of their own.” She juggles her supplies as if to prove her point. “I’m Becky Lee Darling—I do some of the merchandise for the show. I was just setting these out for display. You must be Trixie. I heard Tinsley mention that you’re a detective of sorts yourself.”

“More like an accidental sleuth,” I’m slow to admit. “Things just tend to, well,happenaround me.”

And the things that happen just sohappento have a deadly ring to them.

Speaking of rings, my thumb twirls that rock on my finger and I cast a quick glance at the door.

Where is that handsome husband of mine, anyway? I was hoping he’d pop in regardless of the fact he’s on duty once again.

I sigh at the thought. Leave it to Quinn to find some way to take down our honeymoon. If I wasn’t sure if she had it out for me before, I’m positive of it now.

“Things just tend to happen around you?” Becky Lee gives a little laugh at the thought. “Well, sometimes those are the best kind of mysteries,” she says with a shrug. “The ones you least expect.”

The lights flicker again, and this time everyone finds their seats. Brad Whipple waves in an effort to garner everyone’s attention as he stands near the front next to the makeshift stage with a set of crimson velvet curtains hanging on either side of the slightly raised platform.

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