“She was remarkably determined,” Harper adds, glaring at something in the distance.
“She always knew exactly what she wanted,” Beth says softly. “Andhow to get it.”
“She stole my husband, my role, and killed me,” Marlie contributes with a nod. “She was determined to ruin me.”
She was determined toendher, but I don’t dare make the correction.
“I didn’t know her well,” I admit when it’s my turn. “But she seemed like someone who made an impression.”
“A deep, possiblyfatalimpression,” Marlie adds.
Val clears her throat. “I think what Madison would have wanted is for her killer to confess and spare everyone this dreadful suspense.” Her gaze slides meaningfully toward me.
“Me?” I spike up in my seat a notch and look from Ransom back to her. “Are you suggesting something, Val?” I set down my fork because things just took a turn for the serious.
“Only that some people have suspicious timing when it comes to discovering bodies,” she replies sweetly.
“And some people have suspicious motives when it comes to murder,” I counter before I can stop myself.
A collective gasp ripples around the table. Boomer looks as if he might pass out from excitement.
“How dare you!” Val screeches, rising from her seat. “I was Madison’s closest friend!”
“You were her closest competitor,” Harper corrects coolly. “Let’s not rewrite history quite so quickly.”
“You’re one to talk,” Val spits, while pointing at Harper. “After what she knew about your past?—”
“Careful,” Harper warns, her voice dropping to freezer temperature.
Ransom and I exchange a glance.
Well, well, it does beg the question. What exactly did Madison know about Harper’s past?
“Ladies, please,” Wes attempts to intervene.
“You’re all acting like you actually cared about Madison,” Beth says, and her voice is stronger than I’ve heard it before. “When the truth is, you’re all relieved that she’s gone.”
A breath hitches in my throat, but I don’t dare release it.
Val makes a strangled noise of outrage and grabs the edge of the tablecloth, clearly intending to flip the entire table in classic soap star fashion. She grunts and wiggles while doing her best to lift it, but nothing happens except for a few glasses toppling over.
“The tables are bolted to the floor,” Ransom informs her calmly. “This is a cruise ship. We anticipate both rough seas and theatrical outbursts.”
Val’s frustration quickly redirects itself. She grabs her water glass and throws the contents directly at Beth, who gasps as the liquid drenches her pale blue gown.
A stunned silence takes over the dining room—all three stories.
Beth gasps and shakes out her hands as water drips from her before picking up a lobster claw from my plate and hurling it at Val’s forehead with surprising accuracy.
More gasps and screams go off.
What a waste of perfectly good lobster.
And just like that, chaos erupts.
Lettuce leaves fly through the air like exotic birds. Bread rolls become projectiles. A baked potato sails over my head and narrowly misses decapitating a waiter. The soap husbands dive under the table to protect their hairpieces, while Boomer dances around the periphery, urging his cameramen to “Get this! Get all of this!”
Bess and Nettie abandon all pretense of dignity and join the fray, with Nettie wielding a shrimp cocktail like a weapon of massdestruction. Ransom jumps up, attempting to restore order while simultaneously shielding me from flying dinner rolls. Wes stands at the head of the table, his captain’s authority completely ignored as a splash of red wine blooms across his pristine whites.
