Murder Ahoy! by Fiona Leitch (The Bella Tyson Mysteries Book 2)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.7 MB
Famous crime writer Bella Tyson is hired to co-host a Murder Mystery cruise, on a luxury liner sailing from Southampton to New York. She’s expecting an easy ride; fun and games, surrounded by amateur sleuths and fans of her books, all the while staying in a deluxe cabin and enjoying the spa and the amazing restaurants on board, culminating in a visit to one of her favourite cities in the world – the Big Apple.
She’s NOT expecting to be stuck on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic with her two least favourite people in the world, her hot but unfaithful bastard ex-husband Joel Quigley and fellow crime writer, bitch goddess and Twitter frenemy, Louise Meyers. And when real live dead bodies start turning up – as well as fake not-really-dead bodies – Bella’s dreams of being pampered on the high seas turn sour.
Accused of a murder she would have liked to commit but didn’t, and helped (or hindered) by a gang of unlikely detectives, can Bella find out who the real murderer is before the ship reaches its destination and New York’s finest drag her off?
We made our way along the hallway. Everything was plush and opulent; the carpets were thick and soft under our feet, muffling the sounds of the passengers behind us, and the walls were lined with artwork and mirrors on a large scale. The ship had an almost 1930s, Art Deco feel of decadence about it, despite being less than 20 years old. It gleamed warmly, with walnut panelling and gilded statues. Even some of the crew were bronzed. A young man in an immaculate white polo shirt and trousers smiled at me with teeth that matched his clothing as he quietly rapped his knuckles on a door off the corridor; no one here would be so uncouth as to actually make a loud noise. I felt Susie’s earlier panic subside slightly; you couldn’t be stressed on a ship like this.
We took the lift up to deck 10, and made our way to the back of the ship (or aft or whatever you call it when you’re on a boat – the fat end, as opposed to the pointy bit at the front. I dunno, you look it up). We reached the end of the corridor and stopped as the Chief Purser took a key card from her pocket and swiped it. I turned and looked back along the corridor, surprised at how far it stretched ahead of me. This really was a fu – flipping big ship.
Behind me the door softly clicked open – everything on this ship was soft and discreet, it seemed, and I suspected I would stand out like a sore thumb – and again, the Purser stood back to let us in.
“Holy shi – shiz balls!” I cried, looking around at our home for the next week. It was bigger than half the places I’d lived in, let alone holidayed in. The flat I’d rented when I first left home, where I’d written my first novel on my nan’s ancient typewriter balanced on a couple of old milk crates, had been half the size of this cabin. The carpet was deep enough to lose a small child in. A soft, cream coloured sofa and armchair sat in front of a glass topped coffee table, laid with an ice bucket and bottle of champagne, glasses and a crystal-handled corkscrew. I was relieved to see that to one side of the room was a small kitchenette and dining area; I do like a nice cup of tea first thing in the morning – and last thing at night – and several times during the day – so I hate staying anywhere without a kettle and a fridge. The room was divided by a tall bookcase, with a large TV set in it, giving access either side to the bedroom. The bed was big enough for an entire harem – shame I hadn’t brought one with me – and the bedlinen was as crisp and white as newly-fallen snow. A padded gold silk headboard, studded with crystal buttons, and a matching gold and crystal chandelier gave it a feeling of expensive, tasteful luxury.
“Bloody hell!” said Will. I looked at him. He shrugged. “That’s not really a swear word, is it?”
The Chief Purser followed us into the room and drew back the gold shot taffeta curtains at the big glass doors to let in some more light, then turned and placed the key card on the coffee table.