The morning sun glinting off the surface of the sea lit New York City in a romantic golden glow that elicited twin sighs from Rosemary Lillywhite and Vera Woolridge—sighs which then, in turn, stoked the fires of their traveling companions’ curiosity.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Frederick Woolridge wrapped his arms around his wife and murmured into her ear, “Though not nearly as beautiful as you.”
The comment brought a smile to Vera’s face and one to Rosemary’s as well—one that only widened when the fourth party member, Desmond Cooper, let out a rather unbecoming snort.
“Don’t let the pristine skyline fool you. When the sun goes down, there’s an underbelly just as seedy as anything we’ve got back home in London,” he warned in a jolly voice incongruous with the warning.
Rosemary sent a sharp elbow to Desmond’s ribs. “We’ve just solved a murder while sailing across the sea. We all know a thing or two about seedy underbellies—particularly that they can be found nearly anywhere.”
“Yes, our high-seas adventure was rife with intrigue,” Desmond capitulated. “But you still haven’t seen anything yet, Rosie.” The warning was given with the same mysterious vagueness Desmond had been peddling since his return from the States a few weeks prior. He’d dangled the carrot in front of his friends and then yanked it away too many times to count. When finally, to Desmond’s chagrin, they refused to continue begging, his game turned into something of a stalemate.
“Are you saying you’ve waited all this time, and now, when we’ve nearly docked and are ready to disembark, you’re willing to tell your story?” Rosemary demanded. Her hands tightened around the ship’s railing, and she tossed him an exasperated glare.
Desmond grinned his devilish grin and nodded. “Don’t worry, it’ll take ages to dock. We’ve plenty of time for my tale of intrigue.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Frederick, who had been Desmond’s best friend since they were children, rolled his eyes in his friend’s direction. “Let’s hear it before we all decide to revolt and chuck you over the edge of the promenade deck.”
Unconcerned with Frederick’s threat, Desmond sat back in his seat and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “It was a dark and stormy night,” he began, receiving a trio of groans and being forced to duck out of the way of Frederick’s hastily crumpled drinks menu.
“All right, all right. I digress. I’ll tell it to you straight. The truth is, none of the mystery and intrigue would have happened at all if I’d thought to buy myself a map of the city . . .”