The Case of the Floating Funeral: Ellie Tappet Cruise Ship Mysteries, #3

By Cheri Baker

Wealthy entrepreneur and cruise line owner Morgan Picklewick is dead and his family and friends are coming aboard the Adventurous Spirit for his memorial service at sea. As the cruise ship sails to sunny South America Morgan's heirs will scatter his ashes in the deep blue waters of the Panama Canal. But not all is as it seems. Morgan's business partner and friend, Roberta Crowley, suspects he was murdered by one of his children.

As Ellie Tappet mingles with the mourners it seems everyone is hiding a motive or two. Perhaps one of his wealthy business partners saw an opportunity to take a bigger piece of the pie? Is the ex-wife's diva-like behavior covering a guilty conscience? As Morgan's heirs prepare to seize their father's stake in the cruise line, with devastating consequences for the crew, Roberta gives Ellie her most difficult assignment yet: Identify Morgan's killer before the crew is torn apart and scattered to the four winds, forever.

It's all hands on deck for a cozy mystery adventure with Ellie Tappet! Join her as she takes on her most difficult case yet. Win or lose, her life is about to change in ways she never could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adventurous Ink LLC
• Release date: May 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952200021

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

Chapter One

ELLIE TAPPET SHADED HER EYES and looked up at the pale blue sky. The afternoon sun was painfully bright, and the wind whipped around her ears in a fury, sending her silver hair flying this way and that. Victor Vasquez, the ship’s hotel director, tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at something in the distance. The helicopter was a small black dot at first, a tiny drop of ink in the vast blueness, but it grew longer and darker on the approach. It reminded her of a dragonfly, long and dark, with spinning blades instead of gossamer wings. Ellie’s granddaughter Clara, currently back home in Gainesville with her parents, was deathly afraid of dragonflies. The mere sight of one was enough to make her burst into tears. But little Clara was only two years old and too young to understand that not all of God’s creatures were dangerous. Ellie’s gut twisted inside her body like a wet rag. Were the Picklewicks dangerous? Roberta seemed to think so, but Roberta had been acting strangely for weeks, dodging questions and throwing up distractions whenever Ellie touched on the subject of Morgan Picklewick and his heirs.

Was Roberta afraid of the Picklewicks, or was she hiding something? Ellie brushed her hands down her tunic and plucked a tiny piece of lint off the hem. Roberta Crowley, half-owner of Adventurous Cruise Lines, was a mercurial woman, prone to moods and inclined to boss people around. But she was also a friend. And friends stuck together, even when one of them was the boss and acting crazy. So Ellie pushed her worries to one side with a mental hand. Not too long ago, Roberta had supported her while she hunted down a criminal aboard the ship. Roberta had believed in her when no one else did.

Now it was time to return the favor.

Ellie reached up and back to capture her whipping strands of hair into a low ponytail. So much for the time and care she’d put into her appearance! It seemed the entire crew was nervous about these new arrivals, even those who hadn’t been told about why they were coming aboard. Keeping a secret aboard the Adventurous Spirit was like trying to bail water with a fork. Sure, you could expend maximum effort, but did it matter? What the officers didn’t share, the crew would inevitably overhear. And everyone knew everyone else. Everyone talked. The crew was as much a big extended family as they were a group of coworkers. And now that family was under threat. Of course they were nervous! It felt like their way of life was about to change. Life was full of changes, and sometimes they knocked you down. When Ronnie passed away, it felt as if her whole world had ended! But here, just a few years later, she had a new home aboard the Spirit, a new extended family, friends, and a sense of purpose. Life was good again! But was she about to lose it all? Her heart ached. Once. Twice. She pushed the ache away.

It wasn’t over yet. They could still fight.

She turned her face up to the sunlight, letting the blinding brightness sting her eyes, feeling them water. She wiped them with the back of her hand. With Roberta’s business partner dead, his children were poised to inherit voting control of the cruise line. Rumor was that they intended to lay off some staff, or worse. She wasn’t sure what worse might mean, but Roberta had been snappish for weeks. But maybe Roberta was wrong about the Picklewicks. Maybe they’d mourn their father and leave. Life could go on as usual.

Maybe.

Ellie blinked and wiped her eyes. Enough worrying. I have a job to do. Victor was watching her with a worried expression, so she smiled at him. Bright, isn’t it? I should have worn sunglasses.

Victor looked like a rotund train conductor from a bygone era. He had a bald knob of a head, a stubborn chin, and a perpetually haughty expression that concealed his rather gentle nature. Today, as always, he wore dark slacks, a long-sleeved white shirt, and a vest with golden buttons. His shirt and slacks were perfectly pressed and his shoes looked like he’d purchased them just that morning. Only he couldn’t have. The Spirit was three days into a twelve-day voyage. In his right hand, Victor clutched a pocket watch. It was affixed to a chain, and as he turned the watch over in his hand, the metal cast spots of sunlight onto the wooden deck.

We don’t wear sunglasses on duty, Victor said stiffly. Ellie resisted the urge to tease him. Teasing wouldn’t help. The more nervous Victor got, the more formal he became, and soon he’d clench up so hard that he’d shoot right off the deck like a bottle rocket. He strode over to the two porters he’d brought with him to the helipad. The men jumped to attention like fresh recruits at basic training, full of eagerness to please. They wore spotless white polo shirts emblazoned with the mermaid logo of the cruise line, and their rounded bicep muscles stretched out the fabric quite attractively. They looked like a pair of well-matched horses, confident and polished and ready for a day’s hard physical labor. Violet, the ship’s cruise director and resident songbird, liked to put some sizzle into her performances, as she called it. She was always talking about the importance of making a dazzling first impression. And maybe Victor was taking a page from Violet’s playbook. Where on Earth had he found these two? They looked like they spent their days shoveling coal in the bowels of the ship or doing endless push-ups to the insistent beat of Eye of the Tiger in the crew gym downstairs.

Ellie glanced at the rounded glute muscles of the porter standing closest. He can carry my luggage anytime, she thought. She turned away quickly, her ears burning. The porters were young enough to be her sons! She felt a prickle of embarrassment, followed by relief that they hadn’t noticed her leering. Three years into her widowhood, she couldn’t escape the fact that her… femininity was coming back to life. It wasn’t something she’d anticipated, nor had she asked for it. If anything, it was a distraction.

At the moment, there were more important matters to attend to.

Victor walked back and forth in front of the men like a drill sergeant. His short steps and stiff spine made him bounce along the deck like an overly dignified Muppet. Wait until the pilot gives you permission to approach the helicopter, he said. "You will take our guests’ belongings to their suites. Place the bags gently upon the racks in the walk-in closets. Do not crack jokes. Do not comment on their tardiness. And do not stare or ask questions. Represent us as if your jobs depend upon it. Victor raised one bushy eyebrow. Because they do."

Ellie beckoned Victor over with a jerk of her head and spoke low. Coming on strong, aren’t we? She pointed at the porters, who were both staring out to sea with grim expressions. "If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect it was their fathers who died, not Morgan Picklewick."

Victor nodded and went back to the men. And smile, for crying out loud! We might be hosting a funeral, but it’s not yours.

Ellie shook her head and mouthed, No.

Victor sighed and tried again. I’m sorry, gentlemen. All I meant to say is that we want our guests to feel welcome. So let’s be our charming selves, shall we? He chuckled, and the porters smiled a little. One of them stepped forward to ask a question.

The helipad was located on the ship’s highest deck. A white metal railing encircled it. Beyond and below, as far as the eye could reach, was the Caribbean Sea, a pool of aquamarine glitter and glass that seemed to go on forever. Ellie gripped the railing and waited for her stomach to settle. Was this motion sickness or nerves? The higher up you went, the more you could feel the motion of the ship in the water. It didn’t matter. As soon as that helicopter landed on the big red H she could introduce herself, take stock of the Picklewicks, and prepare for tonight’s formal dinner.

The thwop-thwop of the helicopter blades was loud enough to cut through the wind now. The firefly had become a toy helicopter in the sky. Victor left the porters alone and came back over to stand at her side. Better?

Yes. She shot him an amused look. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be nervous. Because I am! I mean — all Roberta would tell me is that Morgan’s kids are spoiled and stupid, but you know how harsh she can be. In the end, all that matters is that we win them over to our side. Ellie frowned. Also, it’s not like I’ve ever planned a stranger’s funeral before. We’re all in unfamiliar territory here.

You’ll do fine, Victor said. You’re good with people. It’s your gift.

Her heart lifted, and she shot him a grateful look. A compliment from Victor Vasquez wasn’t something to be taken lightly. "Thank you. But I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. Speaking of which, I have all new pants. Violet took me shopping last week because I don’t know how to dress around rich people. I figured they’d take one look at my Target capris and stare down their noses at me. Long story short, I spent way too much money on clothes. And then I felt bad for judging people I’ve never even met. She shrugged. Maybe I’m letting Roberta’s paranoia infect me. She swears that Morgan’s kids will turn our lovely ship into a floating Chuck E. Cheese unless we find a way to stop them."

Victor glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Morgan trusted Roberta to run this place, but there’s no guarantee his children will feel the same way. Still, let’s not count her out yet. She can be quite persuasive. He checked his pocket watch one more time, then shoved it into his pants pocket. I’m sure you’ll do fine with the arrangements. But — and don’t take this as an insult, because it’s not — why are you the one running the funeral? You’re our singles coordinator. And we have an events staff.

Ellie looked down at her toes. Roberta said it would be a personal favor. And I didn’t want to say no to her.

The thwop-thwop-thwop of the rotors was reverberating now. The rhythmic sound distorted and grew louder. She could see the blocky white numbers on the tail. A yellow blade of sunlight reflected off the windshield. She felt bad about misleading Victor, but Roberta had forbidden her from discussing her assignment. Roberta believed that one of Morgan’s children were responsible for his death, and she’d instructed Ellie to, in her words, sniff around and see what stinks. As the funeral coordinator, she’d be in a position to get to know Roman and Charlotte, and to assess if there was foul play involved. And you’ll keep this matter between us, Roberta had insisted.

In the weeks that had passed since Roberta made that request, Ellie had gone to her with questions. Why did Roberta believe Morgan Picklewick had been murdered? Was there any evidence backing up her suspicions? But Roberta’s evidence consisted of a gut feeling and some vague concerns about a planned revision to Morgan’s will. None of this sounded overtly suspicious. Perhaps Roberta wanted her to consider the situation objectively, without any interference. Or maybe there were facts that Roberta wasn’t yet comfortable sharing. And regardless of her reasons for being secretive, Roberta was still the boss.

And saying no to the boss wasn’t easy. Especially when she was also your friend. Even when it meant keeping a few secrets.

Chapter Two

THE HELICOPTER CAME DOWN, INCH by inch, like a woman sinking into a too-hot bath. After what felt like an interminable delay, the metal skids touched the deck. The rotors slowed. Stopped. Ellie pressed her back against the metal railing and covered her ears with her hands. Those spinning blades felt way too close. According to Roberta, Charlotte Picklewick had wanted to do some shopping in Aruba before coming aboard, and that’s why the siblings were arriving late and by helicopter. How much money had they blown on a single shopping trip? It would have been far easier to board in Miami with everyone else.

The front of the helicopter was a transparent half-bubble. Inside, the pilot reached above his head and flipped switches. He said something into his microphone and the man in the seat next to him nodded before pulling his own helmet off. The passenger was in his early sixties, with well-coiffed light gray hair. He was grinning like a kid who had just ridden the roller coaster at the county fair. He reached over to shake the pilot’s hand with a word of thanks. Was that Roman Picklewick? It couldn’t be. Morgan’s children were in their mid-forties.

The black doors swung open. A dainty leg emerged. The small foot was clad in a spike-heeled shoe with a bright red sole. Another leg followed, and both appendages belonged to a petite woman with elbow-length honey blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless black dress that might have cost as much as the helicopter ride. She would have been beautiful if it wasn’t for the irritated scowl that she wore like an entitlement. She hopped down onto the deck with the weariest sigh Ellie had ever heard. Charlotte Picklewick was slender but not skinny, tanned but not bronzed, and she had the smooth skin and taut neck of a woman two decades her junior. She stepped over the skid with practiced ease and turned back to shout at the other passenger in back. Roman? Come on! I want to get this over with.

The man who followed Charlotte wore a dark blue suit. Roman Picklewick had the same blunt-tipped nose and rounded jawline as his sister, but he was tall with the affable smile and carefully sculpted brown hair of a politician. He wore a striped red tie; it was knotted high around his neck, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Roman adjusted his jacket sleeves while he waited for the third man to come out. It was the silver-haired man from the front seat. He also wore a suit, although it was linen, and his shirt collar was unbuttoned. The older man paused and waited for the Picklewicks to precede him, which they did.

Roman strode forward, outpacing his sister in just a few steps. Ellie smiled up at him, but his gaze slid right past her like she was made of Teflon. Roman looked at the porters standing attentively to one side, frowned slightly, and at last his gaze landed on Victor. He smiled and stepped forward with his hand out. Ellie caught a glimpse of his teeth as he blew past her. No Chicklets here! Those were veneers, but laid with an expert hand. Slight imperfections had the power to make purchased teeth appear God-given, especially if you didn’t look too closely. Roman, like his sister, made an attractive first impression. Yet there was something off about the guy. His eyes roamed around without really seeing.

Roman reached out and shook Victor’s hand. Captain Spark. I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Roman Picklewick. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.

Victor’s eyes bulged and his smile froze. He couldn’t pretend to be the captain, but neither did he want to correct Roman’s mistake in front of the porters. A crisis of manners was afoot! Ellie hid a smile. Victor looked nothing like a ship’s captain. Sometimes, she mused that he looked a bit like Alfred Hitchcock, but this wasn’t an observation she’d ever spoken aloud. Victor Vasquez was a proud man. Yet he looked so stumped beneath Roman’s eager attention that she couldn’t resist jumping in to help.

Mr. Picklewick! We’re so pleased to have you join us. My name is Ellie Tappet, and I’m handling arrangements for your father’s service. May I introduce Victor Vasquez? She placed her free hand on Victor’s shoulder. He’s our hotel director, and he reports to the Captain. He’s here to ensure that your accommodations are to your liking. And I’m here to make sure you have everything else you need.

Roman looked at Ellie’s outstretched hand with a blank expression. When he didn’t shake it, she dropped it to her side.

Victor shot her a thankful glance before turning his attention back to Roman. My team has prepared suites for your party, Sir. You and your sister will stay in our finest accommodations. And I’ve arranged for Mr. Whitmore to have a junior suite that adjoins yours. If there is anything at all we can do to enhance your stay, my entire team is at your dis—

So you’re not Captain Spark. Roman interrupted.

No, Sir. Victor said. He glanced at the porters, who were watching the conversation with interest. And Victor must have signaled something with his eyes because the porters jogged to the helicopter to retrieve the luggage. Charlotte followed in their wake. "Bring me my Louis Vuitton Bandoulière, will you?"

I expected Captain Spark to be here, Roman said. He looked around the deck, then behind himself, as if the whole thing were a misunderstanding and the captain might be hiding behind a buoy. Was the man confused or merely dimwitted? Ellie felt a flash of shame at the thought, but then she had a sudden memory of Roberta’s red-lipsticked mouth saying the words, They’re spoiled and stupid. Not the kind of people we want running this ship. They’ll ruin everything.

Captain Spark is on the bridge, Ellie replied. But he’s looking forward to meeting you at dinner. May we show you to your rooms? And I’d be happy to offer you a tour if—

Roman shook his head. He looked around the deck again, still frowning. He called over to his sister. Charlie! They say the captain isn’t here. They say he’s on the bridge.

Charlotte came over holding a brown overnight bag in one hand. She’d looped her arm through the arm of the silver-haired man. Victor had called him Mr. Whitmore. That meant this was Howard, the late Morgan Picklewick’s assistant. Roberta had mentioned Howard, but she figured he’d boarded in Miami with the other guests.

I wanted to meet him. Roman shot Victor a hurt look, as if it were all his fault. Had the captain told the family he’d be here? It seemed unlikely, but otherwise why was Roman so annoyed? Unless he truly was slow. In which case, the spoiled one was—

Howie, can we go? Now? I want a bath. Charlotte smiled at Howard, tilting her head prettily as she wheedled him. He nodded, and Charlotte turned, her pale blue eyes sweeping Ellie from head to toe. Her smile was sunny without giving off one iota of warmth. Charlotte Picklewick. We’d like to check in now, if that’s not too much trouble. Her long honey blonde hair remained shiny and still despite the wind. What kind of hairspray did she use and did it cost less than twenty dollars? Ellie was tempted to ask, but if she did, Victor’s head might pop right off. His faced was pinched tight, and a sheen of sweat lay across his broad forehead, but their guests hadn’t seemed to notice. Roman and Charlotte seemed to regard them as mere background furniture, potentially useful, but only when they were being used.

Hold on, Charlie. Howard unhooked his arm from hers. He shook Ellie’s hand, and then Victor’s, smiling warmly all the while. You must be Victor and Ellie. I’m Howard. Thanks so much for hosting us. Roberta was kind enough to extend me an invitation along with the rest of the family. We’re all beside ourselves about the old man. He flicked a glance at the Picklewicks. Please forgive us if we seem a bit… lost. Howard shot a fond look at Roman. Roman had pulled out his cell phone and he was waving it in the air in search of a connection.

We’re glad to have you, Ellie said. Roberta says you’ve been Morgan’s right-hand man for a long time.

I’ve been with Morgan for almost thirty years, believe it or not. Howard ran a self-conscious hand through his silver hair and smiled a little. Charlie and Roman were in high school then. Even now, it’s hard to believe he’s gone. Morgan was a force of nature. A unique and… He smiled sadly. A good man. Behind his jovial tone, Howard Whitmore looked heart-weary. Ellie knew that look. And she understood that Roman and Charlotte might not be as uncaring as they appeared. Grief affected everyone differently. And not everyone was comfortable emoting in front of strangers.

She touched him lightly on the shoulder. I completely understand. Come on. We’ll get you settled so you can rest before dinner. And I’ll leave you my number in case you need anything between now and then.

Next to him, Charlotte was studying her fingernails with the intensity one usually reserved for more serious matters. Let’s go, Charlie, Howard said agreeably. I’m sure we can get you a bath before dinner. Roman, give me your phone for a second. You need to be on the cruise ship’s network. I already installed the software, I just need to activate it for you. He took Roman’s phone and flicked through the settings for a moment. There you go.

Victor led the way off the helipad; he was followed by the Picklewicks and Howard. Ellie went next, and the porters trailed behind, carrying a half-dozen suitcases as if they weighed nothing at all. The helicopter blades started to spin as soon as they were off the deck. A helicopter had a limited range, presumably, and the pilot would be eager to return home. Ellie glanced over the rail to catch one more look at the beautiful Caribbean Sea. Tomorrow they’d arrive in Colombia. Normally she’d go shopping — as a part-timer she had that luxury — but the needs of the guests came first. Such was life working on a cruise ship!

As they walked down the narrow hallway toward the front of the ship, Charlotte put her head on Howard’s shoulder and wove her arm around his waist. I don’t know why we have to have the funeral on this stupid boat.

His voice was gentle. It’s what your dad wanted. So let’s do this one last thing for him, okay? Then we can all go home.

Roman lifted his phone to his ear and spoke. His voice was as loud as a braying donkey. "Hey. Yes, it’s me. I’m on board. Did you get the initial offer? Good. And the severance contract? Fine. I’ll ask Roberta tonight. I have a dinner thing I can’t get out of — family comes