“The lobster bisque here is divine,” Elodie continues as if she hadn’t just dropped a relationship bomb at our table. “Have you tried it?”
“Speaking of food, our entrées are arriving.” Wes holds up a finger just as a small army of waiters arrives.
Tinsley stands and smooths her dress. “Well, this has been enlightening. I should go check on tomorrow’s schedule.” Shelooks directly at Elodie. “Some of us have actual responsibilities on this ship beyond recreational activities.”
“And some of us know how to have fun while being responsible,” Elodie shoots back, completely unfazed. “Life is all about balance. Sort of the way Trixie finds corpses and still manages to teach art classes.”
Both Wes and Ransom’s eyes enlarge. That was sort of an eye-popping statement, even if it is mostly true.
But I can’t help but frown, considering I’m not allowed to do either of those things right now. Although technically, I’m never on the hunt for a corpse. But a killer? Now that’s a different story.
“Enjoy your dinner,” Tinsley says to the table. “I’m sure you all have a lot to digest.” She pauses beside Elodie’s chair. “By the way, your shop’s inventory audit is scheduled for tomorrow morning. 8 A.M. sharp. I do hope you kept good records.”
With that parting shot, she storms out of the restaurant, nearly colliding with our server, who performs an impressive sidestep to save someone’s dinner.
“She’s such a drama queen,” Elodie grunts, casually plucking a piece of bread from my plate. “She acts like sleeping with Boomer is some prize. Trust me, it’s more of a community service.” She leans over and spears a piece of my lobster and takes a bite before moaning. “Nowthisis excellent.”
I’m still trying to process the entire exchange to even protest the theft of my food, not that I’m above sharing with Elodie. Come to think of it, this is sort of a common occurrence when it comes to sharing my meals with her.
“So,” Elodie continues while enjoying my meal, “I hear you’re investigating Madison’s murder. Any suspects yet?”
And just like that, we’ve gone from soap opera dramatics to an actual murder investigation in the span of a bread basket. I glance at Ransom, whose expression remains neutral as ever despite the conversational whiplash.
“We’re exploring several possibilities,” he tells her.
“Well, if you need any dirt on the trophy wives, I’m your girl,” Elodie offers. “You wouldn’t believe what people will confess to when they’re in my shop.”
“We’re all ears,” Ransom says, his detective instincts clearly piqued.
Elodie leans in. “Day two of the cruise, Val came in trying to buy a scarf. It was two thousand dollars, and her credit card was declined—twice. The woman runs a charity, but can’t afford cashmere? It looks to me, she’s the one in need of charity.”
“Interesting,” Wes murmurs.
“And Beth?” Elodie continues. “She came in yesterday, bought a Hermès bag. Fourteen thousand dollars in cash. Fresh hundred-dollar bills.” She raises an eyebrow. “For someone playing the sweet homemaker, she’s carrying serious money.”
Her husband is loaded, but still. That’s a lot of cash to be slinging in the day and age of credit cards.
“What about Harper?” I ask.
“That glacier in designer heels parading around as an art collector? She hardly looked at the merchandise. Instead, she spent twenty minutes on her phone arguing with someone about authentication paperwork for a painting. Something about important records and forgery detection.” Elodie smirks. “It was a very heated conversation for someone supposedly on vacation.”
“Forgeries?” I glance at Ransom and he tips his head.
“Well, goodnight, loves.” Elodie rises as suddenly as she sat down. “Enjoy your dinner. I should go make sure Tinsley isn’t rewriting the ship’s manifest to assign me to a lifeboat drill at four in the morning.” She winks at me. “She really shouldn’t throw around threats so casually. People might get the wrong idea.”
She sashays away, and I turn back to Wes and Ransom.
“Well,” Wes says after a moment, “Elodie certainly knows how to make an exit.”
“And how to gather intelligence,” Ransom adds with a pointed look. “That was more useful than three formal interrogations.”
I cut into my lobster with my mind racing. “Three women with three very different secrets—all of them worth killing to protect.” I blow out a breath. “We’re getting closer.”
Ransom nods. “We are.”
“Just another day on theEmerald Queen,” Wes observes with a slight smile. “Where dinner comes with a side of conspiracy.”
I raise my glass. “To solving murders between courses.”
