by Amber Crewes
Forgoing a shower, Meghan began to powder her face with her favorite mocha-colored foundation. She applied a layer of mauve lipstick and carefully outlined her dark eyes with jet-black eyeliner. She stepped back, took in the sight of herself, and nodded in approval. “Now, for the perfect outfit…”
She scurried to the walk-in closet and threw on the lights. Meghan pawed at her sweaters, jackets, and pants, dismissing each option until she came across a fitted plum sheath dress that accentuated her figure. “This is it.”
She paired the dress with a pair of black high heels, and when she sashayed back into the master bedroom, Jack’s jaw dropped. “Mrs. Irvin, don’t you look like a supermodel?”
She flipped her dark wavy hair and blew her husband a kiss. “Do you approve?” she winked.
“I do,” he agreed as he came over and put his hands on her waist. “Do you know I have the most beautiful wife in the world?”
She nodded. “You tell me every day.”
“Good,” he replied. “And I’ll keep telling you every day for the rest of your life.”
Jack was dressed in a pair of navy dress pants, a soft blush shirt, and a blue and pink tie. “You look handsome yourself,” Meghan complimented as she adjusted his tie. “Are you ready to go?”
“Absolutely.”
As they left their suite, Meghan turned to check out her reflection in the oval mirror in the brightly lit entryway. “Ugh,” she shuddered as she stopped to stare at herself. “Our bathroom must have really good lighting; I swore I looked better when I was getting ready…”
Jack cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, love?”
She grimaced as she put her hands on her hips. “It looks pretty obvious that I’ve been feasting in the dining halls,” she groaned as she turned to the side to survey her stomach. “I think I’ve put on more weight than I expected.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s vacation, honey,” he told her. “Everyone gains a little weight on vacation. I’ve put on some pounds as well.”
Meghan stared at him. “So you’re agreeing that I’ve gained weight?”
“No,” he stammered. “I mean... babe...”
She cringed. “I was hoping you would say I was just imagining it…”
Jack took her by the shoulders and gazed into her sad eyes. “You are the most stunning, kind, marvelous woman in the world,” he declared. “I love the way you look; you have womanly curves and a figure that puts Marilyn Monroe to shame. Eat all you want on this trip, babe. This is a special time for us. And for the record—I didn’t notice you had gained weight. I promise. I think you are even more beautiful today than you were yesterday, and tomorrow, I’ll think you are even more beautiful than you are today.”
Meghan nodded. “You really think that?”
He kissed her nose. “Yes, dear. I do. Now, let’s get on with our date night, my love.”
Jack took her hand and led her out of their suite and into the hallway. “Let’s have a good night,” he breathed as he squeezed her hand.
“Better than this afternoon,” she insisted. “That Oliver Winterburn was such a bust; I hope we never have to see him again.”
Unfortunately for Meghan, her hope was in vain; as Jack led her into the cavernous auditorium beneath the helm of the ship, she spotted Oliver Winterburn sitting primly on a black leather couch on stage.
“What’s he doing here?” she hissed at Jack. “I thought this was a talent show.”
Jack pursed his lips. “It’s food-related, so maybe that’s why?”
Jack was correct; as they took their seats in the front row and examined the programs laying on their seats, they saw that Oliver was the judge of the bake-off talent show.
“Ugh,” Meghan huffed.
“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized, his face drawn. “I thought you would love this; I didn’t expect that arrogant jerk to be here.”
Meghan saw a silver-haired couple to her left raise their eyes at Jack’s name-calling. “Shhh,” she hushed her husband. “People can hear you.”
“Let’s just go,” Jack insisted. “We can grab dinner at the Asian bistro on the Wind Deck. What do you think?”
The lights flashed twice, and music began to play. “I think it’s too late,” Meghan muttered. “The show is starting.”
The music swelled as the lights went out, and the crowd began to ooh and aah as they waited in the darkness.
“And now…” an announcer teased over the loudspeaker. “The night everyone has waited for...the bake-off talent show!”
The lights came back on, and the room was flooded in a bright white glow. The audience rose to their feet as the contestants took the stage, and Jack whooped and cheered.
“It’s exciting,” he shrugged as Meghan shot him a look. “Babe, just enjoy it. I know Winterburn wasn’t your cup of tea, but let’s have fun tonight.”
“You’re right,” Meghan agreed, and she leaned over to kiss Jack on the cheek.
“Let’s meet our contestants,” the announcer declared as the crowd continued to clap. “First, all the way from Reno, Nevada, please welcome the ship’s fitness instructor, Celia Hendon!”
A tall, thin woman dressed in athletic apparel jogged onto the stage and waved. Her white blonde hair was in a high ponytail atop her head, and she grinned as the audience went wild.
“Next, please welcome Beverley Tilley! Beverley is one of our fabulous chefs-in-training on the ship. Hello, Beverley!”
A short, stout brunette woman walked nervously onto the stage. “She reminds me of Pamela,” Meghan commented as Beverley shyly smiled. “She looks so young.”
The announcer cleared his throat. “And last but not least, our last contestant, the Captain of this ship, Nathan Newman!”
A handsome raven-haired man dressed in a white captain’s uniform sauntered across the stage.
“And finally, our guest judge, the renowned chef himself, all the way from the UK... Oliver Winterburn!”
Oliver gave a short wave from his seat on the leather couch as the contestants gathered around.
“How does this work?” Meghan asked as assistants rolled out small metal tables filled with baking equipment.
“Shhh. Just pay attention and we’ll find out,” Jack playfully chided her.
The contest began; each contestant was given fifteen minutes to create a recipe, another ten minutes to bake, and one minute to clean their baking station at the end. When the time was up, the announcer blew a whistle, and the crowd was silent.
“The fitness instructor’s carrot cake looked incredible,” Jack commented as Meghan squirmed in her seat. The fitness instructor, Celia, was stunningly beautiful, and she felt uncomfortable that her husband had watched her.
“Yeah, it looked fine, I guess,” she replied darkly. “I thought Beverley’s tiramisu recipe was exciting. I’m worried about her, though; Oliver Winterburn was such a know-it-all at the workshop today, and I hope he doesn’t humiliate her. She looks like such a nice girl.”
Oliver Winterburn took center stage. “And now, the taste test.”
He walked to Celia’s station and gave her a wry smile. “A lovely dessert from a lovely woman,” he purred as he took her hand and gave it a kiss. “Let’s try this carrot cake.”
He took a bite and smirked. “The flavor is good, but the icing is a bit bland,” he complained. “If I were you, I would’ve gone with a cream cheese icing rather than vanilla. The vanilla is nice, but boring.”
Celia’s face fell, but she quickly regained her composure and flashed a bright smile to the audience.
“Next,” Winterburn continued. “We have the Captain’s bread pudding. Let’s give it a try.”
He took a bite and smiled. “This is good,” he praised. “Very good, in fact; bread pudding is easy to screw up, and I believe you’ve done a nice job. Excellent work, Captain.”
The Captain smiled and gave a salute to the celebrity chef.
“And last but not least…”
/> Oliver circled Beverley’s station twice. “This young woman has attempted tiramisu,” he declared. “Let’s see how she did.”
He lifted a small silver spoon from her baking station and dipped it into the cake, closing his eyes as he took a bite. “This,” he began. “This… this is the best...”
Meghan could see Beverley’s shoulders tighten. What would Oliver say?
“This is the best example of terrible tiramisu I have ever tried. Seriously, is this a joke?”
The crowd roared with laughter, but Meghan and Jack were silent. She saw Beverley’s eyes fill with tears.
“Did you even try?” Oliver questioned, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Beverley promised. “I tried to make it the best I could.”
Oliver shook his head. “Next time, try harder.”
The announcer came on over the loudspeaker. “Everyone, we’ll take a two-minute intermission, and then we’ll announce the winner of the bake-off.”
The break passed quickly, and soon, the contestants reappeared on the stage. Celia and Beverley chatted with each other as the Captain marched out behind them.
“And now,” the announcer began. “Our judge, Oliver Winterburn!”
The crowd cheered, but Oliver did not reappear onstage.
“Oliver Winterburn!” he repeated, but Winterburn was nowhere in sight.
“Maybe he went for a swim?” Jack joked as Meghan crossed her arms over her chest. “Overboard, perhaps?”
“You’re bad,” Meghan told him.
“OLIVER WINTERBURN?”
Celia Hendon put her hands on her hips. “Let me go see if he’s still backstage,” she told the crowd as she turned on her heel and sashayed toward the back of the room.
The room was silent when she returned a moment later. Celia’s face was pale, and she clutched her stomach as though she were nauseated.
“What’s wrong?” the Captain asked her authoritatively. “What’s the matter?”
Celia let out a wail. “It’s Oliver Winterburn,” she cried. “I found him.”
“Bring him out,” the Captain ordered. “Let’s judge this contest already; I need to get back to the bridge.”
Celia shook her head. “He’s… he’s… he’s DEAD!”
5
Meghan awoke the next morning to find her husband wasn’t by her side. “Where is he?” she wondered as she sat up.
She looked across the room and saw a note taped to the mirror of the large white vanity. Meghan groaned; she was so cozy beneath the heavy-weighted blanket, and she did not want to trudge across the room. “Why couldn’t he have left the note on his pillow?” she grumbled as she got out of the bed and slid on a pair of beige slippers.
Meghan rubbed her tired eyes and reached for the note.
Meghan,
Didn’t sleep well last night. Went for a jog.
See you soon.
J
She frowned as she examined the note; she had known her husband hadn’t slept well last night; his tossing and turning had kept her up, and she was irritable with the lack of sleep.
Then again, Jack’s tossing and turning hadn’t been the only thing that had kept her awake; Oliver Winterburn’s abrupt death was shocking, and there was rumbling around the ship that it had been a murder. Meghan and Jack had walked back to their suite in silence after the show, and Meghan had double and triple checked their locked doors before bed.
Meghan looked at herself in the vanity mirror. “Maybe I should go for a jog…” she thought. “I wish Karen were here to run with me.”
Karen Denton was one of her dearest friends in Sandy Bay. Karen was over seventy-years old, but had more energy than anyone Meghan had ever met. She was also extremely athletic, and Karen was always challenging herself with new fitness regimens.
“I don’t really feel like running,” Meghan admitted to herself as she dressed in a pair of olive green leggings and a long-sleeve white tunic top. “Maybe I’ll take a little stroll.”
She bid Hugo a good morning as she left, and before she knew it, she was enjoying the crisp fresh air as she wandered the deck. It was a chilly morning, and Meghan shuddered as a gust of cold air hit her face. “I should’ve worn a sweater,” she mumbled as she rubbed her hands together for warmth.
She turned a corner and exited the VIP section of the ship. She shivered on the open-air deck, wondering if she should return to her suite to fetch a jacket.
“Ma’am?”
She realized she had accidentally bumped into a steward. “Can I help you, Ma’am?” he asked kindly.
“So sorry,” she apologized. “I’m fine. I’m just wandering around the ship. I haven’t been to this deck before.”
He nodded. “Of course, Ma’am,” he replied. “It’s still breakfast time, you know. If you’re looking for a recommendation for this deck, you could try Press, the coffee shop around the corner. It’s a favorite among our passengers. They have excellent quiche.”
Her eyes lit up, and she realized she was hungry. “That sounds great,” she thanked him. “I’ll check that out.”
She followed his directions and was pleased as she stepped inside of the quaint coffee shop. The walls were painted a buttery yellow, and the white iron tables reminded her of the tables at Truly Sweet. It was also warmer inside, and Meghan licked her lips as she read the menu, seeing all sorts of treats and goodies she wanted to try.
“I’ll do the bacon and spinach quiche with a side of chipotle aioli,” she told the young man who came to take her order. “And a cup of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, please.”
“Right away,” he said as he strode away, and Meghan sat back in her chair and relaxed.
“This is the life,” she thought as she glanced around. “Having delicious meals, this ring on my finger, the man of my dreams, who is probably waiting for me back in our room…”
As she smiled, lost in thought, her sense of peace was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a woman shrieking.
“I said decaf, and you gave me something with caffeine,” the voice roared. “I can taste the caffeine in here. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I wouldn’t notice? This is an outrage!”
Meghan’s dark eyes widened as she turned to see Mrs. Sally Sheridan standing at the counter of the coffee shop. Mrs. Sheridan was one of Sandy Bay’s most ornery residents; at eighty-six years old, she was constantly stirring up trouble in the town, and Meghan was mortified to see her on the ship. She tried to arrange hair over her eyes in an attempt to hide, but it didn’t work; the waiter arrived with her order and gave her away. “Mrs. Meghan Irvin? Your order is ready. I hope you enjoy it.”
Her heart sank as Mrs. Sheridan glanced over her shoulder, and upon seeing Meghan, she excitedly shuffled over. “Meghan? What are you doing here?”
Meghan raised an eyebrow, but stood up to embrace the elderly woman. “What am I doing here? I’m on my honeymoon with Jack.”
Mrs. Sheridan cackled. “You are honeymooning on this ship? So am I. Frank is still sleeping in our suite upstairs. They upgraded us to a VIP suite; isn’t that amazing?”
Meghan’s stomach churned; she and Mrs. Sheridan were neighbors in Sandy Bay, and now they were neighbors on their honeymoons?
“Why the long face?” Mrs. Sheridan asked in concern as Meghan forced herself to smile. “Are you sick of that husband of yours after a few days at sea? Do I need to throw his bottom overboard already?”
Meghan laughed. “No, Jack is fine,” she assured the old woman. “I’m just shocked to see you.”
“What? You didn’t think Frank and I would take a honeymoon?”
Meghan shook her head. “You and Frank got married a few months ago and already took a honeymoon,” she explained.
“Who says you can only have one honeymoon? Don’t be a prude, Meghan,” Mrs. Sheridan winked mischievously as she gently lowered herself into the chair beside Meghan. “What have you been doing for fun onboard? Is Jack keeping you busy?”
&
nbsp; Meghan nodded. “We’ve been going to shows,” she told her. “Last night, we were at the bake-off…”
Mrs. Sheridan’s face paled. “Frank and I heard about that; we almost went, but decided to spend the evening alone in our suite instead. What a disaster. Do you know how that man died?”
