Page 17 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

But I know all too well that solving the homicide will solve my little ghostly dilemma as well.

It turns out, there are worse things than a haunted homicide—like a haunted honeymoon suite with an audience.

CHAPTER8

Ransom and I sit out on the lido deck just outside the Blue Water Grill, the one and only twenty-four-hour buffet on the ship. The sun is shining, the sea is sparkling, and the scent of bacon and coffee warms our senses.

It’s the very next morning after the homicide and we’ve decided to forgo a formal breakfast and catch some fresh air along with the other passengers—mostly because I couldn’t stomach the fact Sassy was logging every moment of my private escapades with Ransom as if she were about to be quizzed on my husband’s smooth yet sexy moves.

Believe me, with all that proverbial copious note-taking, she would have aced it.

And despite passing up breakfast in the formal dining hall, that didn’t stop me from wearing a navy off-the-shoulder dress with a white furry faux mink stole. That’s because Elodie all butstolemy street clothes.

I would have worn the same sweats I had on last night, but they ended up in a puddle of champagne in the middle of the night.

Don’t ask.

Just know there were bubbles involved and a good time was had by all—Sassy and my sweatsuit included. I’ve always been one to include everybody in the room when it comes to a good party, even if thateverybodyhappens to be a ghost with voyeuristic tendencies. I’m far too nice that way.

The autumn breeze whips across the deck, sending passengers scurrying to wrap their robes tighter over their bathing suits. The Atlantic stretches out before us with steely waves crashing against the ship as theEmerald Queenmakes her way toward England.

In just over a week’s time, we’ll be docking in a brand-new country, on a brand-new continent—and better yet, reuniting with my son Parker, who happens to be finishing up his master’s degree there.

And equally as great is the fact that Ransom’s daughter Emerson, who happens to be dating Parker, is planning to meet us there as well. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, because that timeframe will land us right at Christmas. The thought alone warms me more than my pumpkin spice latte.

Speaking of breakfast yum-yums, Ransom and I have loaded up two plates each worth of goodies from the buffet—Belgian waffles swimming in maple syrup, eggs Benedict dripping with hollandaise sauce, bacon so crispy that it shatters upon impact, fresh fruit glistening with morning dew—or more to the point, sugary syrup—and pastries that could make a French chef cry. And yes, two pumpkin spice lattes brimming with whipped cream because we may be investigating a murder, but we’re not savages.

“What have you found?” Ransom asks between bites of his waffle as both of our laptops compete for space with the culinary feast we’ve laid out.

“Nothing yet,” I tell him, scrolling through another dead end. “How about you?”

“Just a few basic things about his business. Apparently, Brad ran and operated a few haunted houses with Reed Williams. His wife has her own business, a successful cosmetics company—Luscious and Delicious—and Brad was the star of his own macabre podcast. But you knew all of that.”

I did because I was the first to clue him in on it last night. I also told him who that rhinestone brooch belonged to that he discovered next to the body. Let’s just say it’s not looking so good for Elvie so far. Everyone knows the spouse is the first to be a suspect—and most likely the killer, too.

I’m about to say something regarding the woman in question when a shadow darkens our table and Wes suddenly plops down in the seat across from us, his navy uniform looks crisp and pristine despite the fact he had a rather frazzled night.

“Captain,” Ransom scowls. “How nice of you to join us uninvited. On our honeymoon no less.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Wes ticks his head to the side. “Trixie, I want you to help me keep your new husband in line. I’ve officially dismissed him from Brad Whipple’s homicide case. I’m taking over.”

Both Ransom and I stare at him as if he’s just announced he’s trading his captain’s hat for a rainbow wig and a shiny red ball that sits on the tip of his nose. He’d have better luck with that. Wes really does have a way of making people laugh. Like now. Only there’s nothing funny about it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, stealing a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie from Ransom’s plate. “I’m already on top of things. I’ve spoken with the security staff and we have video from the Neptune Lounge.”

“You do?” I ask, both excited and relieved.

“He doesn’t,” Ransom is quick to correct. “All of the cameras are set up in the front of the lounge and they face the back, the opposite direction of where the crime was committed. I reviewed the footage before I called it a night. There’s no damning evidence there.”

Wes shakes his head. “That will be up to me and the rest of the security team to determine. Ransom, what part of I-don’t-need-you-to-fill-this-role don’t you understand? You have a beautiful, gorgeous, one-of-a-kind new wife that you should be spending some serious alone time with.”

Ransom growls at Wes, and I’m guessing he’s not amused by all of the kind adjectives. It’s safe to say that Wes was crushing hard for a while. And some feelings may still linger.

Wes sighs. “The last thing you need to be doing is interrogating suspects.” He nods my way. “Trixie, just for the record, had you married me, I would have happily found another captain to take my place for the duration of our honeymoon.”

“Aww,” I coo and Ransom’s eyes widen in my direction before he scowls twice as hard at Wes.

“Okay, we get it.” Ransom shakes his head at Wes. “You’re willing to play the part of hero all the way around. But what you’re forgetting is that Quinn is hurt. She was the only other qualified officer to handle this case. That leaves me. And I took a position where I promised to keep the passengers on this ship safe—that includes my wife.”

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