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suspiciously like “Damn Brits,” then glared at the couple who had settled back in their booth and were ordering a celebratory drink.
    Skye shook her head, stood, and changed the subject. “We have fifteen minutes until we need to meet the guys for lunch. Would you mind going with me to check on Mom?”
    â€œNot at all.” Trixie joined Skye as they shuffled alongwith the rest of the crowd toward the exit. “Do you know where she is?”
    â€œYes. Remember I picked up the knitting group’s schedule at the passenger service desk on our way here. They’re meeting in Cloud Walkers Nightclub from ten until noon today.” Skye studied her pocket-sized trifold map of the ship. “It’s right above us, on the top deck.”
    â€œThe elevators are over here.” When they emerged from Club Creation, Trixie pointed to their left. “Or we could take the stairs.”
    â€œTen flights?” Skye shook her head. “I can do three, four in a pinch, but not ten.” She pushed the UP button and kept an eye on the indicators above the three widely spaced elevators. It was like a game of roulette to guess which set of doors would open first.
    Trixie repeated her complaints about the bingo winner cheating as they rode to the seventeenth floor, but she quieted when they approached Cloud Walkers. A shiver ran down Skye’s spine and she glanced at her friend. Was it the overly air-conditioned temperature or was she picking up a weird vibe? The lower decks were full of people, bright lights, and noise. Up here, the hall was dim, deserted, and the only sound was their own breathing.
    A freestanding pedestal sign that read P RIVATE F UNCTION , positioned in front of the nightclub’s closed frosted-glass doors, made Skye hesitate, and she said in a low voice, “Maybe we shouldn’t bother them.”
    â€œWe’re here.” Trixie grabbed the chrome handle. “We might as well take a peek.”
    â€œI guess so.” For some reason, Skye didn’t want to go inside.
    â€œWe’ll be quiet.” Trixie pushed the door and it swung noiselessly open.
    They entered an empty vestibule and Skye whispered, “I guess they broke up early.” She walked downthree steps into a larger open area. “I don’t hear anyone talking.”
    Along the front wall was a bar lit by neon stars and swirls, and in the rear were floor-to-ceiling windows. The place was divided into two distinct spaces separated by opaque panels.
    â€œI don’t think anyone’s here,” Trixie said in a hushed voice.
    â€œYeah,” Skye agreed. “Either they changed locations or they already finished their activity.” She took another look around. “Let’s go.”
    â€œOkay.” Trixie turned back toward the entrance, then froze. “What was that?”
    â€œIt sounded like a thud and then glass breaking.” Skye tilted her head. “Someone might have fallen.” She called out, “Is everything okay?”
    Silence.
    â€œIt came from over here.” Trixie gestured to a partitioned-off area to their left, then dashed off.
    â€œWait!” Skye yelled. “We should stay together.”
    A door slammed shut. Then a split second later, Trixie screamed. Skye ran around a circular booth and saw her friend standing at the far end of the space behind a seating arrangement that consisted of two chairs on either side of an occasional table. Trixie had one hand over her mouth and she was pointing to a spot a couple of feet in front of her.
    Skye skidded to a stop next to Trixie and looked down. There, sprawled on the floor next to an overturned table lamp with miniature cloud-shapes cut out of the brass shade, was Guinevere Stallings. Sticking out of the group leader’s throat was a pair of knitting needles.

CHAPTER 6
    Don’t Rock the Boat
    â€œG o get the doctor,” Skye ordered Trixie as she knelt at Guinevere’s