Heavenly Seas - Chapter Ten

When the door knocked, Elodie assumed it was one of the cabin crew. But her mouth dropped open when she saw a familiar face—one she would have rather forgotten.

Standing outside her door was an old man waving his key card around as if it were some sort of ID.

“Mrs. Figgs?” the man said. His Jamaican accent was unmistakable, but his suit had seen better days. His shoes were on the wrong feet, and his tie was wrapped around his waist like a belt.

“Yes,” Elodie said with a wary nod.

“I’m Lucas Fishman.”

“Wait… do I know you?” The last thing she wanted was for him to come in. His kind were the ones who snooped around—and worse, he had the authority to do so in his line of work.

“Yes, we’ve met before.”

And then she remembered.

“I thought you retired.”

“I did. But I’m still investigating,” Lucas said as he removed his hat and stepped into the cabin like he owned the place.

“Oh—may I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” He was already inside.

“Please excuse the mess.”

It didn’t matter how many times the room was cleaned—Calvin’s blood would never truly leave it.

“Looks pretty clean to me,” Lucas remarked, scanning the room.

“So... what brings you on this cruise?” She already knew why he was here. And she’d do anything to keep it that way. He was far too old for her, and far too dangerous.

“I like to keep myself busy,” Lucas said, wandering to her cabinet and helping himself to the liquor from her secret stash.

“They keep sending me brochures for care homes,” he continued. “I tear them up. I was born in my house in Newark, and when it’s my time to die, that’s where I’ll go.”

Elodie arched an eyebrow. “What if you have a heart attack or drop dead here?”

He smiled faintly. “I have cold cases to close before I die.”

Elodie gestured toward her wardrobe. “My suitcase is over there. I promise there’s nothing... suspicious in it.”

His tone sharpened. “You know what I’m talking about: the case of Apollo Jinx.”

“Well, I heard about your grandson—that was pretty rough.”

“It was,” Lucas said stiffly. “But let’s get back on topic. Apollo Jinx was kidnapped twenty years ago.”

“Elaine’s son? She’s here, you know. Why don’t you ask her?”

Lucas downed his drink, his eyes darkening as he glared at her.

“I don’t think you’ve been honest with me, Elodie. You do know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

“Honest?” Elodie’s lips trembled as she wrung her hands. “What do you mean?”

“Twenty years ago, I asked if your relationship with Elaine Jinx was sexual. You said no.”

“Of course it wasn’t!” Elodie shrieked. The nerve of him—barging in, stealing her liquor, digging up personal ghosts.

“Why the bloody hell would I shag her? She hates me!”

It had to be dementia. The disheveled suit, the shoes on the wrong feet, the tie wrapped around his waist—it all added up. Not to mention the half-hour rant about refusing to enter a nursing home.

Elodie knew a few monsters who could end his misery, if needed.

“Your husband was the prime suspect,” Lucas said, his words slurring slightly. The way he gargled them made her stomach twist. What did he know?

He slammed his glass down hard on the table. Elodie had lost count of how much he’d drunk—enough for his legs to start giving out beneath him.

“And then he drops dead,” Lucas added.

“And?”

“There was a time when you and Elaine couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

Elodie stood and poured herself a drink—finally, one for her.

“Have you got dementia or something?”

“No,” Lucas said, suddenly hopping around the room, his voice lifting into a strange, singsong tone.

“My mind is clearer than summer skies.”

“Really?” she muttered, gripping her glass tightly.

If only someone would come and take him out of his misery. Elodie resisted the urge to smash one of the bottles over his head.

“And I bet Elaine loved it,” Lucas added, with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Elodie gasped. What on earth was he talking about? At that point, she would’ve preferred a werewolf breaking in over another pervert standing in her doorway.

“Loved what?”

“When her juices got in your hair and face,” Lucas said, laughing with a wet, wheezing sound. “And I’ve still got your knickers hanging on my bannister.”

“Yuck! You’ve got me confused with someone else.” Elodie turned away, shoulders stiffening as she faced the wall.

“Honestly—do you have to be so disgusting?”

Lucas leaned in, his voice lowering. “So, where were you the night Apollo Jinx was kidnapped?”

“I was in the hospital with Heath, you coffin-dodger.” She tried to block out the memory—the sterile white walls, the unrelenting beep of monitors, the terrible instant coffee. A night she wished never happened.

“Thank you very much,” Lucas cackled, limping toward the door before opening her mini-fridge and plucking out a chocolate éclair.

“I love you too, you little harlot.”

The door slammed behind him.

Elodie exhaled a long, shaking breath. Relief spread through her chest. He wouldn't last the night, not in his condition, not with the things she’d seen. Good riddance.

But the nerve of him—the chocolate éclair. She’d been saving that all day.

She rushed to the balcony to stand in the fading light. The air was cool and salty. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her—relief, irritation, gratitude. She was alive. She’d made it through another day.

And dinner would be soon.