Page 58 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“I think they’re being thorough,” I say, avoiding the fact that the security team is currently operating without their leader and chief. But on the upside, they’ve still got me.

“Good. That’s good.” He offers a small smile. “I just want this solved. For Gideon’s sake. So we can move forward with the Society without this cloud hanging over everything he’s built.”

He walks away with a nod, his footsteps quiet on the plush carpet, leaving me alone with a ghost and the memory of a photograph that proves Nicolette Devereaux had every reason to want Gideon Vale dead.

Celeste watches him go and her expression is thoughtful for once. There’s not an ounce of flirtation, no theatrical sighing over his shoulders either.

“So,” I say quietly. “Is that our killer? You do claim to know exactly who it is.”

She turns to me with a smile that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous. “That’s for me to know and you to find out when I’m good and ready to share it with you, honey buns.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m dead. Everything is possible for me.” She’s already fading into hot pink sparkles. “Though I will say this—watch what people show you versus what they hide. The truth is usually in the gap between the two.”

And she’s gone.

I stand alone with the ocean view, the image of Nicolette’s hand connecting with Gideon’s face burned into my memory, and wondering if Silas Rowen just gift-wrapped Nicolette for me and tied the bow himself.

Catching a killer is hard enough without a ghost holding the answer hostage and a dead man who spent his life holding everyone else’s secrets hostage too—and somewhere in the gap between the two is the truth I need.

CHAPTER 19

Marina makes another excuse not to join us for dinner.

I’m starting to think the woman survives on room service and avoidance, but I let it go because honestly, tonight I need the distraction of good food and even better company.

We hit the formal dining room at seven and proceed to eat our way through filet mignon with truffle butter, lobster tail that requires an engineering degree to crack open, and something the menu calls “pan-seared scallops with champagne cream sauce” that tastes like butter had a love affair with the ocean and this is their delicious offspring.

Dessert is chocolate lava cake—warm chocolate cake with a molten center that collapses into pure sin the moment your spoon breaks through—my personal favorite and the reason I need to buy bigger jeans when each cruise ends.

“I regret nothing,” Nettie announces, licking her spoon.

“You will tomorrow,” Bess says.

“Tomorrow is future Nettie’s problem.”

Bess laughs. “Future Nettie is going to send present Nettie a very strongly worded letter.”

“Eh.” Nettie shrugs. “She’s done it before and I simply return to sender.”

We make our way to the Emerald Theater for the evening show—something called Fantasy where circus meets Brothers Grimm in a quasi-nightmare with far too much sequins and existential angst. There’s singing, lots of it, mostly the soulful heartache variety where performers belt about lost love and impossible dreams. There are acrobatics that make my back hurt just watching. Aerialists spin from silk ribbons as if gravity is more of a suggestion than a law. A woman in a sparkling dress gets sawed in half, put back together, and doesn’t even mess up her hair.

Frankly, I’d like her stylist’s number.

And of course, there’s a happy ending. True love conquers all. The villain gets defeated. Everyone lives happily ever after. Such is life—I wish.

Which makes me wonder if we’ll get our own happy ending by the time this cruise concludes. If we’ll actually catch Gideon Vale’s killer or if they’ll sail away into the sunset with a perfect tan and zero consequences.

After the show, we hit the casino for a couple of hours because apparently we haven’t had enough sensory overload for one evening. Bess and I break even at the slots, which feels like a win given our luck lately. Ransom comes out ahead at the blackjack table because the man doesn’t lose at a single thing—the man could probably win at Go Fish through sheer intimidation. I take that back. He’s lost his job, but I’d bet money he’ll get it right back again and with a raise.

Nettie loses her shirt at roulette.

Literally loses her shirt.

I’m not asking. You probably shouldn’t either.

Bess, however, asks. Bess always asks.