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“The captain told me they finally discovered who killed Lil Thug.”

“But… I thought they already caught the killer?” said the girl, darting a look of confusion in the direction of her stepdad-slash-illicit-boyfriend.

“They got the wrong person. The assistant had nothing to do with the murder after all. She just saw a chance to sell some of the stuff she stole from her employer, but she wasn’t anywhere near the cabin when the fatal event took place.”

“So… who is it?” asked Ruby, scooting her chair a little closer. “Who’s the killer?”

“I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “The captain didn’t want to tell me. He did say he was about to apprehend the person today—during breakfast, in fact.”

This had the whole group break out into excited murmuring.

“But… you mean now? Right now?” asked Ruby.

“That’s what he said,” said Odelia with a shrug. “He wants to get it over with before the ship sails.”

All eyes turned to the shoreline, where the tops of the roofs of houses were clearly visible. The ship had docked early that morning in Willemstad, Curacao, but instead of allowing its passengers to disembark, it looked as if the Queen of the Seas was about to leave any minute now for the next stop on its ten-day itinerary—a highly unusual occurrence. Surprised murmurs rose up all around us, as other passengers had noticed the same thing.

“Is Curacao closed for business today?” a portly little gentleman called out with distinct surprise.

“The captain doesn’t want the killer to jump ship,” Chase explained. “Cause he knows that Curacao has a no-extradition policy, and if the killer goes ashore, he or she will never be brought to justice. They’ll be able to live out their lives on this island paradise, which of course wouldn’t be fair.”

“But… but that’s horrible,” said Laura.

“Yeah, so if one of you killed Lil Thug, you better run fast,” Odelia quipped with a grin. “Cause in five minutes the ship will leave port and then it’s open season on the killer.”

More excited murmurings rippled through her small audience, and even I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as anticipation put me on edge.

“Oh, there they are now,” said Chase, and gestured with his fork to the two men now making their way toward us: the captain and Garth. They were striding along with purposeful steps, their faces decorated with no-nonsense expressions, and clearly on a mission to nab whoever they thought was responsible for one of their passengers’ premature demise.

“They’re coming this way,” said Laura. “They… they’re looking at us!”

And indeed they were. Garth and the captain both had their eye on a certain person in our current entourage, and Chiquita let out a slight scream.“Oren, take out your phone and start filming. This is happening—it’s really happening!”

“It’s not on-brand, honey,” said Oren, but still did as he was told. On-brand or not, or happy or even peppy, this was news in the making, and so he started filming the events as they unfolded in real time.

“Who—who are they arresting?” asked David nervously.

“Can they even make an arrest?” Charles Kettering speculated. “Is that legal? Do they have the authority?”

“The captain can detain a person,” Chase confirmed, “and then transfer them to the proper authorities.”

The captain and Garth were now only thirty feet away from us, and it suddenly dawned on the small gathering that they had one very specific person in mind. That person had sat completely motionless, but now started twitching slightly, as realization dawned that her time was up and that she was for it.

“Mama?” said Laura, her voice betraying her extreme bewilderment. “I think they want… you!”

And suddenly, and much to everyone’s surprise, Bertha Biles bolted from her wheelchair and was racing—flying along the deck in the direction of the staircase that would bring her to Curacao’s shores. In fact I don’t think I’d ever seen a person run as fast and with such nervous fervor as I now saw Bertha run.

“Mama!” Laura cried. “What are you doing?!”

“Damn,” said Oren. “Look at her fly.”

And fly she most certainly did. Unfortunately for her, two security officers suddenly materialized out of nowhere, and abruptly halted her progress by taking position in front of that oh-so-important staircase and Bertha’s last hope for freedom.

So she changed course, and for a moment it looked as if she was going to dive straight into the water! But luckily more security showed up, and before she could leap overboard, they cornered her, then apprehended her, and now were leading her back to us—and certain doom.

“Mama!” Laura was saying, still as flabbergasted as the rest of the onlookers, which comprised the entire breakfast contingent. Bertha’s daughter had risen from her chair, and was staring at her mother, hands cupping her face in consternation.

Necks were craning, and tongues were wagging, since everyone had seen the miracle happen: Bertha had thrown off her shackles and had walked! Well, not walked but run the 100-yard dash. Quite a feat!