“The very same,” I confirm. “According to Jazz, he knows something about Claudette’s threats against Lavender. Which begs the question—what exactly is Rex Hartwell’s connection to Lavender Voss?”
The question hangs in the air like expensive perfume mixed with impending doom, while outside the windows, the Irish Sea reflects the lanterns on our table like scattered diamonds on black velvet.
“Well,” Elodie announces with satisfaction as if she’s just been handed the keys to the scandal kingdom. “I volunteer to conduct more field research. For the investigation, of course.”
A collective groan circles our table—a groan of horror.
But before anyone can respond to Elodie’s offer to sacrifice herself for the cause, Wes’s radio crackles to life with the kind of urgent static that means someone’s evening is about to get significantly worse.
“Captain to the bridge immediately. We have a situation with one of the passenger groups.”
Apparently, when you’re dealing with swingers, murderers, and Valentine’s Day cruises, the night is always young and the situations are always escalating.
CHAPTER 16
Suddenly Hitched—What a Trip!
Hello, Trixie!
My husband and I are finally taking our dream Valentine’s cruise after saving for three years! We want to make every single moment count, but we’re completely clueless about cruise ship etiquette and insider secrets. Should we book shore excursions through the ship or go rogue? What’s the deal with specialty restaurants versus the buffet? And honestly, we have no idea how to navigate all the activities without looking like total cruise virgins. Help us cruise like pros instead of wandering around like lost tourists with our mouths hanging open at every delicious turn.
Cruise Newbies Need Navigation
Dear Cruise Newbies,
Three years of saving? You’re going to LOVE every second! Let me share the insider secrets that separate cruise veterans from adorable newbies.
DAY ONE: Skip the crowded buffet and head straight to the main dining room—better food, no lines, and the waitstaff will rememberyour name by day two. Explore the ship before the crowds hit, and yes, take those cheesy embarkation photos!
SHORE EXCURSIONS: Book through the ship if you’re nervous (they wait for you), but local tours are often cheaper and more authentic. Just watch that departure time like your life depends on it!
DINING: Specialty restaurants are worth every penny for special occasions, but don’t sleep on room service breakfast—pure luxury! And that midnight buffet? Absolutely magical.
PRO TIP: Make friends with your room steward and dining waitstaff immediately. They’ll take incredible care of you and have the best ship gossip!
Most importantly? Say yes to everything that sounds fun. You’ve earned this adventure!
XOXO Trixie
P.S. The soft-serve ice cream machine is available 24/7. You’re welcome!
Day 5: Cobh, Ireland (Blarney Castle Excursion)
“Well, this is just perfect,”I announce as Bess, Nettie, and I disembark theEmerald Queenonto the cobblestone streets of Cobh, Ireland. “My husband gets to play with dead people’s belongings while I get to babysit two octogenarians with a combined impulse control rating of negative seven,” I tease.
Okay, so I’m only half-teasing, and they both know it.
“We preferadventure-seeking senior citizens,” Nettie corrects, adjusting her bright green sweater that readsKiss Me, I’m Irish (Today Only)in rhinestone letters that could probably be seen from the top of the highest castle in this verdant kingdom. “And technically, we’re babysitting you. You’re the one with the supernatural murder magnet problem.”
“Fair point,” I concede, watching other passengers stream past us like tourists escaping some kind of cultural emergency. “Though I’dlike to point out that my murder magnet only activates around actual murders. Your chaos field operates twenty-four seven.”
“That’s what makes life interesting,” Bess points out, looking absolutely radiant in her emerald wool coat and matching scarf. Far too radiant if you ask me. The woman practically glows with romantic anticipation, which would be heartwarming if it weren’t so potentially catastrophic for our little trio’s long-term survival.
The morning air carries the scent of sea salt mingled with fresh bread from nearby cafés, while seagulls provide their own raucous soundtrack to our departure from floating civilization. These birds apparently have opinions about everything and aren’t shy about expressing them at volumes that could wake the dead—which, given my recent track record, might not be entirely metaphorical.
The cobblestone streets echo with the click of heels and the rumble of tour bus engines, creating a sound that screamstourist invasion in progressloud enough to alert the ancient Celtic druids that capitalism has arrived with cameras and credit cards.
Our tour bus idles nearby like a patient beast, already loaded with passengers who look like they’ve been slathered in sunscreen and ready to bake in the Irish sun. Not that the sun is doing anything alarming at the moment. The driver, a cheerful Irishman who probably tells the same jokes seventeen times a day, waves us aboard with genuine hospitality.
