Meg, who was in the chair next to the couch, drowsing, didn’t realize at first her passenger had died. The venom had worked its way through Sharmali’s entire body, turning all her veins and arteries a startling black and she’d been breathing shallowly for most of the evening. Meg briefly considered doing CPR, and decided there was no use, given the way the poison had affected the poor woman. Draping a beach towel over Sharmali’s face, Meg sat, head in her hands. There wasn’t any point in waking anyone else. Sharmali had no close friends among the passengers. Apparently, she and most of the other women had been hired by the Primary for entertainment thinly veiled as companionship during the cruise. The men were clients and business contacts of Mr. Finchon’s, with several of his high level employees along as backup, should any of the discussions delve into business. The Bettises, who’d helped with Sharmali earlier in the day, were the only married couple in the party. A few passengers had remained aboard the Far Horizon, declining the beach party adventure.
