by Amber Crewes
“Let her go,” the female officer instructed the male officer. “Sorry to hold you up, Mrs. Irvin,” she apologized to Meghan. “Standard protocol for situations like this. I hope you understand.”
Meghan smiled. “I get it,” she told them. “I’ll just be going, now…”
She walked away quickly, but before she could reach her friends, she saw the woman in the blue coat dress out of the corner of her eye. The woman looked lost, and Meghan hurried over to her. “Hey,” she greeted. “Are you okay? I’m glad you got out of there. Did the police question you, too?”
The woman’s lips trembled. “They did,” she agreed, hanging her head.
“Do you need me to call someone?” Meghan asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t look like you’re doing okay. They have ambulances over there, you know. I could go get a medic for you.”
The woman looked up at Meghan, her green eyes large. “That’s okay,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”
Meghan squeezed her shoulder. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she told her. “I’m Meghan Irvin. I own the bakery in town. What’s your name?”
The woman blinked. “I’m Bonnie,” she murmured, tucking a loose lock of blonde hair behind her ears. Meghan saw a giant glittering emerald cut wedding ring on her left hand as she moved the hair. “Bonnie Diggs.”
“Wait,” Meghan’s jaw dropped. “Bonnie Diggs? So, you’re…”
“Yes,” Bonnie pursed her lips. “That’s right. I’m Anthony Diggs’ wife.”
6
M eghan snuggled beneath the thick down comforter, her eyes still closed as she wiggled her toes and settled into a comfortable position. It was her day off, and after a long, stressful week, along with the craziness from the disastrous town hall the night before, she was eager to spend a long morning resting on her pull out couch bed.
Siesta snuggled closer to her, licking her ear. She pulled the small dog into her arms, enjoying the warmth she provided as they cuddled together. Jack had had to leave early that morning to go to the station, but with all three dogs piled in bed with her, Meghan was content.
“Nothing could ruin this cozy morning,” she thought to herself as Fiesta burrowed between her legs.
“GOOD MORNING!”
She stifled a groan as Sarah barreled into the living room and flicked on all the lights. “Meghan, wake up! We have a lot to do today, Mrs. Lazy! Come on. The early bird gets the worm.”
Meghan clung to the blankets, shaking her head. “It’s my day off, Sarah,” she protested. “And it’s been a long week. I really need to catch up on my sleep.”
Sarah sprung over to the couch and pulled the down comforter off of her. Meghan opened her eyes. Sarah’s blonde hair was pulled into a French braid, and she wore a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks. Her blue eyes were bright with excitement, and she perched herself on the corner of the couch.
“Days off are the best days for running errands,” she informed Meghan, her smile wide. “Don’t you want to have everything you need to make dinner tonight?”
“It’s Jack’s turn to make dinner tonight,” Meghan told her. “Not mine.”
Sarah frowned. “A wife should always be ready to make a nice dinner for her husband,” she corrected her. “Jack’s father and I don’t take turns making dinner. It’s my job to make meals for him. That’s what being a wife is all about.”
Meghan vehemently disagreed; being a wife was about partnership, respect, and sharing, and that included sharing the chores and household responsibilities. Before she could reply to Sarah, her mother-in-law stood up and tapped her wristwatch. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” she told Meghan. “Scoot! You can’t go to the market dressed like that.”
Fifteen minutes later, Meghan felt sullen as she and Sarah drove to the market. Meghan had hurriedly thrown on a casual outfit of opaque black leggings, a baggy rust red sweatshirt, and Ugg boots, and Sarah had scowled at her outfit. “Are we going to the gym?” she asked in a sickly-sweet tone. “Or to run errands?”
“Errands,” Meghan replied flatly.
“Then why are you dressed as though you are off to the gym? I never dressed like a gym rat when I was your age. I don’t see how that’s good for your reputation, either. Meghan Irvin, businesswoman and wife, skulking around town in leggings? It just isn’t a good look, Meghan. Maybe for a supermodel, but we both know you aren’t that tiny!”
Meghan stared at Sarah. Everything that came out of her mouth was always in a polite, loving tone, but the sting of her words was hard to miss. “My outfit is fine,” she replied firmly.
They arrived at the market, and Meghan noticed the store, usually quiet and relaxed, was abuzz. Shoppers were stopped along the perimeter of the aisles, frantically chatting with each other, and the sounds of whispers sounded like the frenetic buzzing of a beehive.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asked as she got a cart and walked down the produce aisle. “What is everyone talking about?”
Meghan pointed at the display of local newspapers. “A local politician was killed last night,” she explained quietly as they walked. “He was running for Mayor of Sandy Bay, and according to the newspaper, he was strangled right before he was set to speak at a local town hall.”
Sarah’s eyes grew large. “That’s terrible,” she choked. “Sandy Bay was never this unsafe when Jack’s father and I lived here. Maybe you two should move in with us. I don’t want my grandchildren living in this sort of seedy place.”
Meghan rolled her eyes. Giving Sarah grandchildren was not on the agenda for at least another two years, and she had already explained that to her mother-in-law.
“Why don’t I grab the vegan cheese?” Meghan asked. “You can get the vegetables.”
Sarah laughed. “Vegan cheese? For who? Don’t tell me you’re some sort of hippie now, Meghan.”
She shook her head. “It’s for your son,” she smiled, trying not to gloat. “He can’t eat cheese.”
Sarah peered at her curiously. “Honey,” she smirked. “We Irvins originated in Sweden. Cheese is a way of life for us. My Jacky loves cheese! You must be mistaken. Surely you should know the things your husband prefers and doesn’t like, no?”
She shrugged. “Over the holidays, Jack was having a bellyache. The doctor told us that he is lactose intolerant. No more cheese.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “My son? No. We Irvins have stomachs of steel. The doctor must be mistaken. Let me guess, did you drag him to some holistic doctor or a therapist or something? Those people are total crocks.”
“Dr. Tanzel earned her MD from Harvard,” Meghan informed her. “I think she’s right, too; Jack’s bellyaches stopped when we cut out dairy, and his skin and energy levels have been better, too.”
Sarah said nothing, and Meghan quickly walked away from her. She was irritated that her mother-in-law thought she knew everything about her husband. Sarah may have raised Jack, but Meghan was his wife. Surely, she knew a little more about the man than his mother, who lived several hours away, did.
She rounded the corner and entered the health food aisle. She scanned the shelves, trying to find the brand of vegan cheese she and Jack both liked. As she wandered, she overheard two women, both young and pretty, nearby whispering to each other, both leaning over their carts, their heads close together.
“What a shame that he’s gone,” the skinny brunette said, licking her lips. “I thought I would be Mrs. Diggs someday. I always thought that he and Bonnie wouldn’t last; he was so outgoing, and she is so...plain.”
The other woman, a busty woman with hip-length raven hair, shook her head. “Bonnie isn’t plain,” she argued. “I think she’s gorgeous. Those cheekbones and her hair? She’s a classic beauty. She’s just quiet. And she’s never around; I never saw them together, and rumor is that she spends most weekends off in California with her parents. She doesn’t even like Sandy Bay.”
“Quiet or stuck up?” the brunette asked sarcastically. “And that hair and those
cheekbones? I heard Anthony bought her good looks for her. Don’t you remember her in high school? She was nothing to look at.”
“But Anthony was,” the dark-haired woman smiled dreamily. “That smile and those dimples! He always made me swoon.”
Meghan wondered about Bonnie Diggs. She had seemed so shaken up after the town hall, and it felt wrong that these women were judging the new widow.
“Did they date in high school?” she heard the brunette ask. “I don’t remember Anthony and Bonnie hanging around together.”
The dark-haired woman shook her head. “He was all wrapped up with that other girl...what was her name? She was a freshman when we were seniors. I think she still lives in town!”
“I don’t remember,” her friend commented. “But I wish he had been dating me!”
“Such a tragedy that he’s gone,” the other woman sighed sadly. “What a loss of a gorgeous man.”
They noticed Meghan staring, and she quickly grabbed a block of vegan cheese and hurried back to her mother-in-law. “There you are,” Sarah said as she returned. “You were gone forever, Meghan. It’s quite rude to leave people waiting for you like that.”
As they drove home, Sarah could not stop complaining; she complained about the selection at the market, she complained about the traffic downtown, she complained about the snow falling and the weather, and she complained about Meghan’s bakery.
“Jack says you’re planning to break into the wedding market?” Sarah asked as they drove past Truly Sweet. “Honestly, Meghan, that’s a lot of work for you to do. Do you really think it’s a good idea to add more to your plate? How will Jack feel if you are never home?”
Meghan bit her lip. “We haven’t really made a decision about breaking into the wedding market,” she told her mother-in-law. “But I think it would be a great opportunity for my business, and for my family. Jack and I could do so much with the extra income.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Life isn’t all about money,” she countered. “It’s about family and making your husband happy. Besides, Jack tells me you have a good thing going at the bakery now. Why change it? Too much change is never a good thing, Meghan.”
“Like the way you changed my living room?” Meghan thought to herself. “Is she hearing herself? Could she be any more of a meddling mother-in-law?”
She did the math in her head and realized that Sarah’s stay was not even close to over. How was she going to survive another few weeks with her mother-in-law? Sarah had taken over her bedroom, her bathroom, and now, she was trying to take over the bakery. Meghan could not take much more; it was time to talk to her husband about his mother.
When they arrived home, Dash, Fiesta, and Siesta greeted them at the front door. “Hi, babies,” Meghan happily greeted them as she balanced the bags of groceries. “Back up, Dash. Mommy is trying to get in.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Dogs should not be allowed in the house,” she declared as she stuck up her nose at Siesta, who was licking her ankle. “They are filthy creatures. My cats don’t bring in dirt like these three do. I can’t believe Jack allows you to have three dogs.”
Meghan stared at her. “Dash was Jack’s to start with,” she informed her. “I brought Fiesta and Siesta into the equation. Jack had Dash for years before we even met.”
“Still,” Sarah continued. “Dogs don’t belong inside. You should get cats instead. Jack grew up with cats, and we have cats at home. Whenever those dogs pass away, you should get cats. Jack would love a house filled with cats!”
Meghan could not take it any longer. “The dogs stay in the house,” she stated, her head held high. “They’re my babies, and they belong inside of my house.”
She silently put the groceries away as quickly as she could, and then she rounded up the three dogs. She put their leashes and harnesses on, and took off, going for a walk to clear her head.
Meghan took the dogs down the street and over to the beach, her favorite place to spend time with them. It was an unusually sunny day, and she smiled as the warm rays of sun kissed her cheeks. The beach was covered with a light layer of snow, and she let the dogs off their leashes. They ran wildly through the icy water, splashing and playing as they barked joyfully.
The beach was empty except for two figures in the distance. Meghan squinted her eyes. She could make out the figures of a man and a woman, and from their body language, it looked like they were arguing. The man was waving his hands erratically, and the woman’s hands were on her hips. She was shaking her head.
“That’s how I want to respond to Sarah,” she laughed to herself as she saw the woman pumping her fists in the air. “I want to give her a piece of my mind.”
As the pair walked closer to her, Meghan was shocked to see the man was Mayor Rose. She didn’t recognize the woman, and as soon as Mayor Rose made eye contact with Meghan, he pulled the woman away by the elbow.
“That wasn’t Mrs. Rose,” she said aloud as the dogs kept barking.
She watched as the mayor hurried away with the mystery woman. Who was he fighting with? What were they fighting about? Meghan did not know, but she had a bad feeling deep in her gut that something was amiss.
7
“S
o who did it?” Pamela asked as she, Trudy, and Meghan huddled around a table at the bakery the next morning. “Meghan, do you know anything? Has Jack mentioned it to you? He’s been assigned to the case, right?”
Meghan took a sip of her green tea and shook her head. “You know he can’t say anything to me about his cases,” she reminded them. “It’s unprofessional.”
Pamela rolled her eyes. “You would think the wife of the town detective would have the scoop on everything,” she complained. “You never know anything.”
Trudy swatted Pamela on the wrist. “Don’t be rude,” she admonished the teenager. “Meghan is under a lot of stress right now. Her mother-in-law is staying at her house for several weeks.”
Pamela raised an eyebrow. “So? I don’t get it. I always love my boyfriends’ moms.”
Trudy laughed. “Trust me. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Pamela crossed her arms. “I just want to know who did it,” she pouted. “Anthony was so handsome and nice. I think stuffy old Mayor Rose did it.”
Trudy bit her lip. “I don’t know if you’re wrong,” she sighed. “Roland was known for his temper back in school; he once beat up a guy on another basketball team just for looking at him the wrong way.”
Meghan held up her hands. “Whoa,” she stopped them. “Whoa. Wasn’t that like... thirty years ago? It doesn’t seem fair to bring up someone’s high school mistakes when talking about a murder.”
Trudy stared at her. “You told us you saw him on the beach with a mystery woman yesterday,” she said pointedly. “Clearly Mayor Rose has some dirty little secrets. Maybe this is one of them.”
Pamela shrugged. “A murder is a pretty big secret,” she breathed. “Anthony was younger, better looking, and more articulate. I think he would have won the election, and I think Mayor Rose killed him before Anthony could take his job.”
Meghan looked between them. “You really think Mayor Rose, a lifelong member of this community, someone we all know, would be so bold as to kill a political rival? It’s the Sandy Bay mayoral election, not the United States Presidency!”
Trudy furrowed her brow. “People can do strange things when they feel threatened,” she told them. “Mayor Rose ran this town for nearly thirty years. He had a lot to lose. Maybe he just cracked.”
Meghan cocked her head to the side in disbelief. “I don’t know,” she added. “I just think it sounds a bit ridiculous. I don’t think getting into a fistfight in high school means someone has the capacity to kill. Don’t you think that sounds extreme?”
Pamela’s eyes widened. “Maybe. Or Maybe not.”
Meghan sighed. “I wonder what Jack knows,” she wondered aloud. “He hasn’t mentioned anything about it…”
Trudy smiled. “He�
��s probably too busy reliving his childhood as a mama’s boy,” she joked, though Meghan did not laugh. “Has she rearranged your house any further? I’m surprised she hasn’t thrown out all your clothes or tried to take your dogs to the pound. That woman really sounds like a piece of work.”
Meghan groaned. “This morning, she started in on my hair,” she lamented as she buried her face in her hands. “Meghan? That wavy look is so untidy. Why don’t you try my curling iron or better yet, a straightener? Clean up those waves for good?”
“She did not say that to you,” Pamela gasped. “Meghan! Your hair is pretty. It’s so healthy and shiny.”
Meghan tossed her long, wavy hair behind her shoulder. “I used to straighten it every single day in high school,” she explained as she grabbed a lock and played with it between her thumb and pointer finger. “All the other girls at school had straight blonde or strawberry blonde hair, and I had this mess of wavy dark hair. I was so self-conscious about it, too. I started straightening it every day, but by the time I went away to college, I had damaged my hair. I had to cut it all off into a dreadful pixie cut and start from scratch.”
Pamela’s eyes grew large with curiosity. “You had a pixie cut?” she squealed. “I can’t even imagine!”
“It looked awful on me,” Meghan told her. “Awful. But it grew back, and I haven’t straightened it since. I like my natural hair. It’s who I am.”
Trudy scowled. “That lady needs to back off,” she hissed. “Imagine if your children have your hair and she says nasty things to them about it. Then what?”
“Then she’ll have to deal with me,” Meghan replied evenly.
Later that afternoon, Meghan and Pamela were frosting a batch of red velvet cupcakes when they heard Trudy moan. “We’re out of eggs,” she called out from the back of the kitchen. “Meghan? How did this happen?”
Meghan went to the walk-in refrigerator and frowned as she surveyed the empty shelf where the eggs were supposed to be. “Trudy? Did you forget to order them?” she asked, confused by the mistake.
