Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries 08 - Cruise Catastrophe by A.R. Winters

Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries 08 - Cruise Catastrophe by A.R. Winters

Author:A.R. Winters
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2019-12-24T16:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I followed the woman out of Scrapbooking Headquarters, but she didn’t take the elevator as I expected. Instead she went up the stairs, still walking at a pace too quick for me to comfortably catch up with her.

Up the stairs she went, out onto the deck and then still flying along she made her way to the Lagoon Pool, and the bar there, Hemingway’s.

Finally, I thought, as she seemingly arrived at her destination.

“Yo!” she called to a table at which two other women were already sitting. They also had dyed hair, one with long green hair and the other with a red pixie cut. I recognized them from the scrapbooking sessions, but I’d never spoken to any of them.

When the photograph-holding woman had sat down I walked over to the table.

“Hi there. I’m Adrienne. I do the social media for the ship—can I join you a moment?”

The three of them looked at me, suspicion on their faces at first, but then they realized they recognized me from around the ship and saw my blue Swan uniform blouse.

“Sure. Sit down,” said the woman I’d been following. “I’m Mila, this is Kat, and Dink,” she said pointing to the green-haired and then red-haired woman in turn.

“Are you all enjoying the cruise?”

“We were,” said Mila.

“Oh?”

They gave me incredulous looks.

“Oh. Right. I hope it doesn’t completely ruin it for you. There should still be some good opportunities to have some fun, even after what happened. Are you all friends?”

“Yeah, but this is the first time we’ve all met in person. We’re members of Scrapping True Grrls,” said Dink, managing to sound out the final word kind of like a growl.

“Scrapping True Girls?”

“It’s an online group,” explained Kat. “We bring a modern edge to scrapbooking. Part feminist, part anarchist, and part gonzo.”

“I see.”

The three of them chimed in unison, “and all true.” Each of them thumped a fist against their chest, and then they all fist-bumped across the middle of the table.

“Could I get a picture of that?”

They held out their meeting fists and I got a pretty good picture of them all looking suitably cool.

It was obvious to me which ‘school’ of scrapbooking they were from—Irina’s. But what was their connection to the mystery man in the photograph?

“What’s this photo about?” I said, indicating the picture that Mila had placed on the table when she’d sat down.

Dink and Kat both looked at it for the first time, giving it thoughtful nods, before turning to Mila to hear her explanation.

“It’s cool, huh?”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

The three of them all found that hilarious, laughing at me uproariously together.

“Sweetie, he is not my boyfriend.” She tapped her finger on the picture. “First, I saw this ice cream. It’s purple, see? Blueberry flavor.”

“You like purple?” It was a bit of a dumb question really, since she’d dyed her hair purple and had a purple backpack and a purple T-shirt.

“I am purple.” She said it with a depth of meaning that was a little beyond me, but her friends seemed to understand so I let it fly.



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