The Queen of Crows: Ellie Tappet Cruise Ship Mysteries

By Cheri Baker

The year is 1964, and Roberta Fliss has her hands full managing her husband's swanky Las Vegas nightclub, the Three Queens. Times are tough, but when they're invited to a high-stakes poker tournament aboard a luxury yacht, the couple hopes to take home the grandest of prizes. Their host, Vincent "Vinnie" Malone, is a powerful member of the newly founded Vegas Gambling Commission, and after years of scraping by, it seems Roberta and George's fortunes are on the rise. But Lady Luck takes more often than she gives, and this game is about to turn deadly...

 

In this Ellie Tappet Prequel novella, you'll meet the formidable Roberta Crowley decades before she and Ellie ever met. How did Roberta come to own a cruise line? And what really happened to her first husband? Take a trip back in time to the neon city for an origin story you'll never forget.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adventurous Ink LLC
• Release date: Nov 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781952200168

Cheri Baker

Cheri spent her formative years hiding under the blankets with a flashlight, reading everything she could get her hands on, but especially books by Stephen King, Judy Blume, Agatha Christie, and Mercedes Lackey. Her experiences in management inspired her first novel, Involuntary Turnover, about an HR manager turned private investigator. Cheri lives in Seattle with her husband of 18 years. She's working on her fourth novel.

Book preview

The Queen of Crows

An Ellie Tappet Prequel Novella

Cheri Baker

Published by Adventurous Ink, Seattle

Find all of Cheri’s books, her mailing list, and more at cheribaker.com.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First edition. November 23, 2021.

978-1-952200-16-8

Copyright © 2021 Cheri Baker

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Adventurous Ink. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

Book design by Patrick Baker

Cover art by Cheri Baker

EA162C3D33

Introduction

While writing the Ellie Tappet Mysteries I came to hold a special place in my heart for Roberta Crowley, the formidable owner of Adventurous Cruises. When we meet Roberta in The Case of the Missing Finger she’s comfortably in her seventies and managing her cruise ship empire from the owners’ suite aboard the Adventurous Spirit. This prequel novella tells the story of how Roberta got her start in Las Vegas during her twenties. If you’ve read The Case of the Floating Funeral, you may recognize two familiar characters, Morgan Picklewick and his daughter Charlotte.

I hope you enjoy the story!

Cheri B

Chapter One

New York, 1986

IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT WHEN Morgan Picklewick climbed the narrow wooden staircase to check on his sleeping children. He placed his feet with care to avoid the squeaky spots that might wake them. When he reached the long, stately hall on the upper level of the townhouse, he paused at an octagonal window. Silvered light frosted the tree canopy in Central Park, and a long strip of moonlight ran down the carpet beside him. He touched the glass with his pointer finger, yearning for the night air, and for the freedom he’d once known, back when his life had been simpler.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he walked the halls of his fine home, wondering when it had become his prison. After his wife’s passing, but not right away. Days had become weeks, weeks had become years, and what had been tolerable became impossible, slowly, and then all at once. He inhaled deeply, imagining a lungful of brisk night air. But all he caught was the lemony tang of wood polish left behind by the housekeeper.

When he was a boy, Morgan would go to the railroad tracks and place his hand on the rails, waiting for the distant rumble of an oncoming train. Something, anything, to make his dull days more exciting. Now, he felt that same rumble, not beneath his hand but deep in his belly, where his instinct lived. He’d been still for too long. It was time for him to live again, to hunt, to recover some semblance of joy, perhaps even to reclaim the man he used to be. But first, there was the matter of his children.

He rested his hand on the bronze doorknob outside his daughter’s room. He turned it slowly, opening the door a scant inch, and he peered through the gap. Charlotte’s room was a cupcake-explosion, a girly monstrosity of rose-colored curtains, fluffy rugs, and garish unicorn wallpaper. Voluminous pink curtains hung over the canopy above the bed.

She was supposed to be dreaming beneath the covers. But she blinked twice, coming to life, her small, serious face ensconced inside an avalanche of stuffed animals. Her small fingers reached out to pull her stuffed zebra closer. Her toys formed an entourage, a puffy gang, standing ready to protect her from nightmares, from loneliness, and from all the things that little girls fear.

Morgan held his breath. He pulled the door shut, millimeter by millimeter. Charlotte’s eyelids drooped, slipping to half-mast, and he felt a wave of relief.

As his weight shifted, the floor groaned.

Daddy, is that you? Charlotte’s voice was bright with hope. Come tell me a story.

Morgan went to his daughter’s bedside and crossed his arms. Why are you still awake?

I don’t know. Why are you?

Her eyes hurt him. Glancing down, he adjusted the knot on his heavy winter robe. It wasn’t Charlotte’s fault she looked so much like her mother. Grief was supposed to fade. Why did his pay interest? It compounded month after month, year after year. Through Charlotte’s eyes, he felt Mary Ann’s judgment. Her disappointment. Most of all, he felt his own failure.

You promised you’d take care of them, she’d say.

And I am, he’d reply.

Not like this.

Some relationships were additive. Two human souls came together and became something new, something unexpected. But subtract out everything gentle and patient, and how could the survivor not revert to who they’d been before?

Charlotte was a smart girl. Precocious. Eager for new experiences and fresh faces. That’s why it was time to send her where she could receive a proper education and the kind of care he was ill-suited to provide. She and Roman deserved better than a childhood scampering around an empty townhouse with only a nanny and a cook to mind them.

Charlotte was waiting for his answer.

I’m still awake because I had a call from London. He poked her gently on the tip of her nose. And because I’m a grown-up. When you’re my age, you can stay awake as long as you like.

Charlotte might look like her mother, but the withering look she shot him in reply was pure Picklewick. Greta was supposed to read me a story. But she’s sick. Charlotte flung her words out into the night like an accusation. And I can’t sleep without a story.

Morgan glanced at the big white bookcase near Charlotte’s child-sized desk. The desk was piled high with clothes and costumes. A sad-looking lineup of stuffed animals she’d found unworthy of the bed top entourage sat on top of the bookcase, their faces turned toward the wall.

Which story?

"I know those already. Tell