Page 132 of Without a Clue

I glance around. Everybody else is distracted.

Crystal is over by the bar chatting with the bartender.

Jackie’s writing in her notebook, stiffly doing her best to push off a staff member trying to persuade her to dance.

Ricky’s now in the corner reading with the spider climbing up the wall.

I wait for the perfect moment, casting my eyes around the room, then drop my hand below the table.

Neena’s purse.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get off this ship?” I say, all the while carefully unzipping the purple pleather.

Nash warily assesses my hand digging under the table, while I urge him with my eyes to stay focused on my face. “I’m . . . uh . . . intending to step on land, grab you, and shoot a thousand miles in the opposite direction of here.”

“Barring you aren’t the murderer, I think that’s an excellent plan.”

“Should we grab a coffee in Barcelona first?”

“Can’t imagine why we wouldn’t.”

“Want to swing by Ireland on the way home?”

“I can be persuaded.”

My fingers tickle against a box of tissues, an unidentified number but seriously way too many tubes of lipstick, a sewing kit, two books, and a loose deodorant without any top. Then my fingers curl around the capsule and I pull it out.

Got it.

“Are they still preoccupied?” I say, eyes on him.

His eyes dance around while I unscrew the pill bottle. “Yes.”

The bottle is half full, and as I tip it over into my hand, half a dozen pills spill out.

Six round white pills. Unidentified.

I bring them to my nose and sniff.

Then, to Nash’s horror, I pop one in my mouth.

“What are you—?”

I grin.

Pop another one in and ruthlessly clamp it between my teeth.

Everything clicks into place.

Lightning strikes of clues now, and I decide to chase them.

I look over to Jackie, who is scribbling away in her notebook.

Then Ricky, who has somehow guided the spider into a glass.

Crystal, who is over at the bar, bragging to everyone now about one of her life stories.

It’s a classic case.