Tiramisu and Terror (Sandy Bay Cozy Mystery Book 20)

by Amber Crewes

  He frowned. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “But I think you tried your best; Beverly is a grown woman, and she’ll have to make that decision for herself, with or without his blessing.”

  She rolled over and scooted into the pocket of his arms. “You’re right,” she agreed. “My parents didn’t approve when I opened the bakery, but I had to do what was right for me. Beverly seems like a resourceful person. I’m sure she’ll figure things out.”

  There was a loud knock on the front door, and Meghan nearly jumped out of her skin. “Who could that be?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “But I’m getting sick of people coming around; I think for our next honeymoon, we should go to a deserted island, just the pair of us. Then we won’t be bothered by security officials, pop stars, or chefs.”

  Jack went to open the door. “Hey, Hugo,” he greeted their butler. “I’m glad you’re here. We have some laundry to send down with you, and we want to put in a dinner order as well.”

  Hugo’s face looked tired. “I’m sorry to ask this again,” he began. “But there’s been a problem in the kitchen…”

  Jack groaned. “What do you mean? You aren’t trying to steal my wife again, are you?”

  Hugo nodded. “It’s bad,” he admitted. “Please don’t repeat this, but we had a few crew members pass away this morning.”

  “What?” Meghan cried. “Pass away? From what?”

  Hugo hung his head. “We don’t know,” he told them. “The Captain is saying it’s food poisoning, but I’m worried it was murder; whoever killed that famous chef is still aboard this ship. What if the killer got to our crew?”

  Meghan’s face paled. “So, what do you want from us?”

  “Chef Tilley asked if you could help out with dinner prep tonight,” he explained to Meghan. “Things are hectic below deck; the staff is freaking out, and several other assistant chefs have taken ill. He really needs the backup.”

  Meghan nodded, rising to her feet and looking around for her sneakers. “I’ll be down in five minutes.”

  Hugo’s face washed over in relief. “Thank you so much, Meghan,” he said to her. “I worry our ship was cursed; we shouldn’t have stopped in Ketchikan. What if the angry spirits have taken over our ship?”

  Jack stood up. “That’s insane, Hugo,” he insisted. “Forgive me for sounding rude, but I think that’s a crazy thing to say. The ship isn’t cursed, that Alaskan village is innocuous and scenic, and it sounds like people had sadly died from bad food poisoning. There’s a logical explanation for everything.”

  Hugo shook his head. “I disagree.”

  Meghan waved to Hugo. “Please let the Chef know I’ll be right down. Thank you, Hugo.”

  Hugo bowed and turned to leave their suite. Jack scowled at Meghan, his cheeks turning a deep crimson and his eyes flashing with anger. “It’s really inappropriate of them to ask you to cook while on the ship,” he insisted. “Say no, Meghan. Don’t go help them. We’re paying to be here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Meghan stared at her husband. “Babe,” she began. “I love to cook and bake. I’m happy to help. It isn’t ideal, but I really don’t mind, honey.”

  Jack shrugged. “I just want to spend some time together.”

  “We will,” she promised as she leaned up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “As soon as I get back!”

  Meghan left the suite and hurried down to the kitchen. When she arrived, Chef Tilley greeted her with a smile. “Thank goodness you are here,” he told her as he led her inside. “I’m going to have you prepare the pork chops. Beverly will assist you with the side dishes.”

  Beverly appeared at her side, a sour look on her face. “What’s the matter?” Meghan asked as Beverly took her to a station and began sharpening her knife.

  “My dad just won’t get behind the idea of me leaving to become a dancer,” she muttered. “He thinks it’s useless.”

  Meghan began pounding the pork chops and adding salt and pepper to the exterior. “Well, maybe you have to stop listening to him,” she suggested. “Your dad isn’t always right, you know. You know you best, Bev…”

  Beverly scowled. “If only it were that easy.”

  Meghan watched as Beverly carelessly chopped carrots. “Be careful,” she warned gently. “You don’t want to cut yourself.”

  “Who cares?” Beverly fired back. “I don’t.”

  Meghan reached over and coaxed the knife out of her hands. “Why don’t you go work on the pumpkin soup?” she suggested. “It’s one of the sides your dad assigned us to work on. You can stir the pot.”

  Beverly sulked off to a giant pot and began to stir. “That’s better,” Meghan observed. “You can’t really screw up soup, can you?”

  There was a bang in the kitchen as the double doors flew open, and Reuben marched inside. “Uh oh,” Meghan thought, her stomach churning as Reuben strode up to Chef Tilley.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Reuben asked as he shoved the Chef. “You think you’re all that, don’ you?”

  The Chef raised his eyebrows. “I thought they threw the likes of you into the ship’s jail,” he scoffed. “Get out of my kitchen, Reuben.”

  “They know each other?” Meghan thought to herself as Reuben stepped forward, his nose only inches from the Chef’s.

  “Get out of my kitchen,” the Chef repeated. “Or else.”

  “Or else what? You’ll poison me? I heard you poisoned some of the guests with your nasty food. Is that how you’ll get rid of me, Tilley?”

  Meghan watched as Chef Tilley’s face turned a deep shade of maroon. “OUT. NOW.”

  Reuben laughed in his face. “Yeah, right. You can’t tell me what to do. You’ve always been a loser, Tilley. Back at cooking school in Istanbul, I knew you were a nothing. Look at us now: I have worked as the assistant for a real cooking celebrity, and you’re just a busboy on a cruise ship.”

  Chef Tilley straightened his smock. “I’m the head chef on this ship, Reuben. And who cares about being someone’s assistant? Your boss is dead, and everyone thinks you did it. You’ve always been a scoundrel, Reuben, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one who killed Oliver Winterburn.”

  They were only inches away from each other now, and Meghan could see Chef Tilley’s veins bulging in his forehead. She glanced over at Beverly, wondering if she was worried about her father.

  “Beverly?”

  She saw Beverly pour something into the soup. “Hey? What are you doing?” she asked as she walked over to her. “We weren’t supposed to add anything…”

  Meghan’s eyes widened. It appeared that Beverly was pouring bleach into the soup. “What are you doing?” she cried.

  Beverly dropped the bottle into the pot of soup, and the sound caught the attendant of a nearby sous-chef. “Hey, did you guys see that?”

  Everyone stopped and stared. “She poured bleach into the soup. Beverly is responsible for the food poisoning!”

  Chaos immediately broke out; two attendants rushed to grab Beverly, and Chef Tilley ran over to his daughter as well. “What are you doing?” he wailed as Beverly struggled in the grip of the attendants. “Sweetie?”

  “Dad, it was nothing,” she insisted as a security official entered the kitchen and walked over to her. “It was a joke, I promise.”

  Chef Tilley’s eyes widened. “A joke?”

  She nodded. “I just wanted to get back at you for not letting me leave the ship. It was a bad joke. I didn’t mean any harm, I promise.”

  Before he could reply, the security official slapped a set of handcuffs on her wrists. “You might have killed several of our crew,” he growled at her as he led her away. “Beverly Tilley, you are being questioned for the murder of the members of our crew, as well as the murder of Oliver Winterburn!”

  21

  Meghan left the kitchen with tears brimming in her eyes. How had her honeymoon turned into such a disaster? She wanted nothing more than to be
back in Sandy Bay, her beloved town, safe and sound without threats of murder, food poisoning, or worse.

  “Hey.”

  A familiar voice caught her off guard as she hurried to the elevator. She looked over her shoulder to see Celia Hendon behind her. “Meghan? Are you okay?”

  Meghan began to weep. “I’m sorry,” she apologized as she wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  Celia put a hand on her shoulder. “Want to take a quick walk? You look like you need a breather.”

  Meghan nodded. “That sounds good.”

  Celia led her to the outdoor track, and they began to walk at Celia’s usual brisk pace. “What’s going on?” she asked as they rounded the first turn. “Jack?”

  “No,” Meghan sighed. “It’s everything. I thought this would be the adventure of our lives, but it’s been so stressful. Oliver Winterburn was murdered, we went to a cursed village, and now, someone who was under my supervision could’ve poisoned the entire ship.”

  Celia raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “Beverly Tilley,” Meghan explained.

  “Chef’s daughter? She’s a wild card,” Celia laughed. “What did old Beverly do this time? The old “I put bleach in the food trick?”

  Meghan stared at her in shock. “What?”

  Celia shrugged. “On the ship, we crew all know a lot about each other. Everyone knows Beverly is a little drama-mama... meaning she can’t resist telling everyone and their mother about her dreams of becoming a dancer, how her dad won’t let her, yadda yadda. It’s a very tired act.”

  Meghan stared at Celia. “If this is normal for her, why did they take her away?”

  Celia nodded at Meghan. “For you. The guests. Oliver Winterburn was murdered, and a few people have since died of a mysterious ailment... the guests want answers. Beverly is an easy scapegoat; we all know that.”

  “So... this isn’t my fault?”

  Celia gave a hearty laugh. “Meghan, relax. You’re a guest. You should be having fun. At lunch today, one of the stewards on the Palmer deck told me that you’ve been helping in the kitchen?

  Why?”

  Meghan sighed. “They needed me, and I was happy to help.”

  Celia raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get a job here or something? Like... become a chef onboard? I don’t get it.”

  “I love to cook and bake,” Meghan explained. “In the way that you love lunges and Bulgarian squats. The opportunity to do the thing I love most came up, and I took it.”

  “So... you worked on your honeymoon?”

  “It isn’t work if you love to do it,” Meghan corrected the trainer. “Besides, it was a fun morning I’ll never forget. I’ve never cooked aboard a ship until today.”

  Celia eyed Meghan, and then broke out into a smile. “I like your attitude,” she told Meghan. “At first, I wasn’t quite sure you had the guts to work hard, but now that we’ve gotten to know each other better, I think you’re more like me than I imagined.”

  Meghan smiled. “I’m glad we met, Celia.”

  “Me too, Meghan,” Celia told her. “Hey, you have sneakers on... what do you think about a quick training session? We could hop on over to the gym and do some stairs? Maybe a little stint on the elliptical?”

  Meghan thought for a moment. “That would probably help me calm down,” she agreed. “Okay, Celia. Let’s do it.”

  They headed off to the gym, and Meghan felt extra energy as she went through the warmup.

  “You’re looking good, Meghan,” Celia praised as she broke a light sweat. “Keep it up.”

  They finished the warmup and moved on to the workout. “You killed that warm up,” Celia praised. “Let’s make the work out a little harder. What do you say?”

  Meghan grinned, feeling the rush of endorphins. “YES!”

  “Okay, then. We’ll start with a mile jog, and then we’ll do a set of fartleks—that’s a type of interval training. After, we’ll stretch, and then I’ll let you get on with your day.”

  Meghan nodded, and they took off on their mile jog. She looked down at her watch after two laps; had she really run a half-mile in under six minutes? This was the fastest Meghan had ever run, and she felt stronger than ever.

  Two laps later, and they finished their final stretch. “Ten minutes and fifty-six seconds,” Celia cried. “Meghan, that’s awesome. That’s a mile time to be proud of.”

  Meghan beamed. “Let’s keep going. Intervals next, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Celia grinned. “Let’s go.”

  The intervals were not as easy, but as she finished, Meghan still felt as though she had control of her breathing, which was a huge improvement from her first workout with Celia. They sat down on the ground to stretch, and for the first time, Meghan touched her toes.

  “You’re unbelievable,” Celia complimented her. “I can’t believe how well you did in our work out. Meghan, you’ve made serious strides. I’m so impressed.”

  “I just had to keep believing in myself,” Meghan shrugged. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

  “I can see why your bakery is a success,” Celia told her. “Being the best is all about your attitude, and Meghan, your attitude today was fantastic. You have the mindset of a winner.”

  Meghan shook her head. “Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t,” she confessed. “But I’m glad we got that workout in today. I feel so much better. The rush of a good sweat is something I think I’ve always needed.”

  “It’s the best,” Celia agreed. “When life kills you, sometimes, all you have to do is sweat out that negativity.”

  Meghan stood up from where they had been stretching and helped Celia stand up. “I had better go find Jack,” she told the trainer. “But thanks again, Celia.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Celia said kindly. “I mean it. And hey, take it easy, Meghan. Don’t worry about Bev. Like I said-she’s a total nut-job, and everyone knows it.”

  “I’ll try to forget about her,” Meghan promised. “Thanks, Celia. See you later!”

  She jogged back up to the suite and happily burst through the doors. “You’ll never guess what I did!” she cried out as she approached Jack, who was lying on the couch.

  “What?” he asked, a sad look on his face.

  “I worked out with Celia,” she told him. “What’s wrong? You look like someone died…”

  Jack took a deep breath. “I think this cruise was a huge mistake,” he told his wife. “I went for a walk on the upper deck, and I overheard something concerning.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He sighed. “There’s been a massive outbreak of food poisoning in a hallway on the lower deck,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, several people have died.”

  Meghan placed a hand over her mouth in shock. “Wait,” she said. “Which hallway?”

  “The Emerald Quarters?”

  She shrieked. “That’s where Mrs. Sheridan and Frank are staying. We need to go check on them. Now.”

  Meghan and Jack left the suite, hurrying down the hallway and into an elevator. “They’re on the fourth deck,” Meghan told him. “I wonder if this is why Frank has been so sick?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack frowned. “But I hope they’re okay.”

  When the elevator reached the fourth deck, they darted out of the elevator. “Which room is theirs?” Jack asked.

  “Four hundred,” Meghan replied. “It was an easy one to remember. It’s down the hall and to the left. Let’s go.”

  When they reached number 400, Meghan banged on the door. “Mrs. Sheridan? Frank? Are you in there?”

  No one answered the door. “Do you think they’re home? What if they’re sick in bed and can’t get up? What if they need emergency medical attention?”

  Jack looked at Meghan and nodded. “I’ll get us in.”

  He took his credit card out of his wallet and messed with the lock. In less than ten seconds, the door popped open. “All detectiv
es can pick locks,” he explained to his wife as Meghan gave him a shocked look. “It isn’t a big deal.”

  They stepped inside, but quickly realized the room was empty. “Where could they be?” Meghan worried as they opened the door to the bathroom and saw it too was vacant.

  “Let’s try the infirmary,” Jack suggested, and they left the room, returning to the elevator.

  When they reached the infirmary, Meghan was relieved to hear Mrs. Sheridan’s familiar screeching coming from inside. “That’s her,” she told Jack.