A Marriage Encounter
"I don't see why I have to go," Tabitha Knowles complained as she stared at the cruise ticket her husband had given her.
"Because the owners of this new resort have come to me with a business deal," Spencer explained. "They promised me I would triple my investment within five years, and you know I don't put my money into any new venture without checking it out personally."
"But why do I have to go? We've been taking separate vacations as long as we've been married."
"I need you to come with me. It's strictly a couples-only cruise. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you'll just have to reschedule your shopping trip to Paris."
Tabitha did not put up much of an argument. She was well aware of the conditions of their arrangement, and she accepted them without reservation. Spencer was an important businessman who put his work above all else. He had neither needed nor wanted a wife; it was a hostess and a social companion he required. An arranged marriage was not the nightmare most people believed it was. Being Mrs. Spencer Knowles had its advantages. Tabitha lived like a queen. Her annual clothing allowance alone was more than she had earned as a fashion magazine editor. If she missed having a traditional marriage and family life, she gave no indication of it.
"I can always go to Paris next month, or even the month after," she reasoned.
Spencer smiled at her with gratitude.
"Great! I knew you wouldn't let me down."
* * *
"Guess what?" Ellie Arbuckle asked excitedly when her husband, Dwayne, answered the phone at Joe's Auto Body where he worked as a mechanic.
"Jesus, Ellie, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't call me at work."
"I'm sorry. I just had to tell you the great news. It can't wait until tonight."
Dwayne closed his eyes, sighed and silently prayed, Please, God, don't tell me she's pregnant again! I'm already up to my ass in bills.
"The radio station just phoned me. I won the grand prize in their contest: a romantic cruise for two!"
"Cruise?" Dwayne echoed, relief flooding over him that Ellie did not have another bun in her oven after all.
"Yes, a cruise to a secret romantic island somewhere in the Caribbean."
Dwayne's boss gave Joe a dirty look and pointed to the grease-stained clock on the wall.
"Sorry, honey, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
At dinner that night, Ellie chattered nonstop about candlelight dinners, moonlit beaches and first-class accommodations, but her husband was clearly not interested.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Maybe you should take your sister on this cruise with you," he suggested.
"Are you crazy? This is the chance for you and me to have a second honeymoon."
Their first honeymoon had not been worthy of the name. They had both been sixteen-year-old high school juniors when Ellie got pregnant with their first of six children, and after quitting school to get married, they spent a three-day weekend in a tacky honeymoon resort in the Poconos, one with a heart-shaped bed and a bathtub that looked like a large champagne glass.
"I know how much this trip means to you," Dwayne said guiltily, "but I can't go to my boss and ask him to give me three weeks off. Hell, I already took a week's vacation when Dallas was born so that I could help out with the kids while you were in the hospital."
"Just tell him you'll take the time off without pay."
"I can't do that. We're already behind on the mortgage, and the phone is about to be turned off. How can I possibly afford to go without a paycheck for three weeks?"
"You'll think of something," Ellie declared, flashing her sapphire eyes at him. "I have faith in you."
As she talked, she kissed his lips, his face and his neck.
"Wouldn't it be heavenly to be alone again?" she whispered in his ear.
Even after giving birth to six kids, Ellie was still an attractive woman, and she knew how to use her charms to manipulate poor Dwayne.
"Okay," he said reluctantly. "I'll talk to my boss first thing tomorrow morning."
* * *
"Happy anniversary!" everyone at the table shouted as Dr. and Mrs. Carlton Danforth entered the grand ballroom of the five-star La Parisienne hotel.
Claudette Fleischer, the Danforths' older daughter, stood up once her parents took their seats at the place of honor.
"Mom. Dad. We all wanted to make your fiftieth wedding anniversary a special occasion," she announced, speaking on behalf of herself and her siblings, "so we invited a few of your closest friends"—here, the crowd of two-hundred-plus people laughed—"to help you celebrate."
Judith took a tissue from her purse and discreetly dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes. Her husband gazed proudly at their three children and at the room filled with family, neighbors, friends and patients.
"We'd also like to express our gratitude to the two of you for all you've done for us over the years," their daughter continued. "No one could have asked for better parents."
Claudette then handed an envelope to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. The assembled guests applauded again, and there were cries of "Speech! Speech!"
As Dr. Danforth rose to speak, his daughter returned to her seat, yielding the floor to her distinguished father.
"Judith and I can't tell you how surprised we are at this unexpected outpouring of love and friendship," he began. "We want to thank you all for being here tonight. We also want to thank our three wonderful children for throwing this little surprise party for us. Now, if I may, I would like to propose a toast to the wonderful woman that I've had the honor of being married to for the past fifty years, a woman who worked hard to put me through medical school and who stood by my side through the lean years. To you, my dear," he concluded, raising his champagne glass in his wife's direction.
When the couple returned home after the party, Judith opened the envelope that her daughter, Claudette, had given her earlier.
"What's in there?" her husband asked.
"Cruise tickets," Judith answered with surprise.
"Let me see," Carlton said, grabbing the envelope from his wife's hands.
He read the tickets carefully and then slipped them back into the envelope.
"As they say, it's the thought that counts."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means we can't go on a cruise. I've got a busy medical practice. I can't possibly leave it for three weeks to go on a boat ride."
Claudette, however, had already taken that matter into consideration. Her husband, Howard Fleischer, M.D., had agreed to tend to his father-in-law's patients should a medical emergency arise. Under those circumstances, Dr. Danforth could hardly refuse such a generous offer.
* * *
"Let's go," Trent Wagner urged his current costar and bride of a mere six hours.
"What's the rush?" Raven Castle asked as she stood in the hotel lobby signing autographs. "The plane will wait."
"True, but if we don't get to Miami by six, we might miss the boat."
Raven smiled sweetly at her fans and said, "I'm terribly sorry, but it is my honeymoon."
The couple dubbed "America's sweethearts" by the Hollywood press got into the back of their limo and headed toward the airport where a private jet awaited them.
"I hope you don't plan on spending our entire honeymoon kissing up to your fans," Trent complained.
"If it weren't for my fans, darling, I'd have to go back to selling shoes at Payless. Besides, this romantic cruise is mainly for publicity. After all, we've been living together for six years. Don't you think a honeymoon is a bit anticlimactic at this point?"
"Yes," he laughed as he nuzzled against her neck, "but it will be fun nevertheless."
Twenty minutes later the couple boarded their jet at LAX, and five hours after that they arrived in Miami where a limousine was waiting to take them to the pier.
Trent groaned when he saw reporters and a throng of bystanders camped out at the pier.
"Just keep walking," he instructed his wife.
Raven got out of the car, put on her brightest smile and waved to the crowd. Despite her husband's objections, not only did she stop and speak to every reporter, but she also took the time to sign autographs. The actress had not always been so attentive to her fans or so cooperative with the press. It was only after she passed the age of thirty that she realized the number of roles being offered was dwindling. She would need to keep her box office draw high if she wanted to continue working.
Trent, on the other hand, was an action star with a loyal, if limited, following. His two dozen starring roles were all similar in nature; only the settings and the adversaries changed. Whether he played an FBI agent, a Navy Seal, an anti-terrorist expert, a Green Beret or an undercover narcotics cop, he relied more on his rugged good looks, muscular physique and martial arts training than he did on his limited acting skills.
As the newlywed Hollywood luminaries made their way to the waiting cruise ship, a distinguished-looking man with steel gray hair and piercing blue eyes, stepped forward to greet them.
"Miss Castle. Mr. Wagner. Welcome to the Amour Bateau. My name is Byron Van Sant, and I'll be your host for the next three weeks, both on the ship and on the island. If you would care to come aboard, we can start our journey."
* * *
"Where are all the other guests, Mr. Van Sant?" Judith Danforth asked as she looked at the eight people assembled for the orientation tour of the ship.
"There will be only four couples the first time out," Byron replied.
"What?" Spencer Knowles asked incredulously. "This ship must be able to hold at least two thousand paying customers! How is the company to make a profit sailing so far under capacity?"
"This is the Amour Bateau's maiden voyage, and as such we want to make it a memorable one. On future voyages the ship will be filled, I assure you. Now if you'll all follow me, I'll show you how grand a lady she is."
The Amour Bateau was indeed a beautiful ship, and its luxurious decor was fine enough to impress not only the cash-strapped Arbuckles but also its wealthier passengers.
"The builders and decorators of this ship," Byron said proudly, "spared no expense in its construction. It is the Titanic of its day."
"Good God, I hope not," Spencer laughed.
"I don't think we have to worry about icebergs this far south, Mr. Knowles."
At the conclusion of the tour, the guests went their separate ways. Trent Wagner and Raven Castle retired to the honeymoon suite while Dwayne and Ellie Arbuckle headed for the pool. Dr. Danforth led his wife to the cocktail lounge, and Tabitha Knowles stopped by the ship's gym. Meanwhile, her husband, Spencer, returned to his stateroom to study the financial records of a new publishing company he recently acquired. This was, after all, a business trip for him, not a vacation.
During the four days it took to sail to the privately owned island, Tabitha had often wandered the ship looking for something to keep her busy. The other three couples looked and acted like honeymooners: they danced closely to romantic music, sat side by side over candlelit dinners and took romantic walks, arm in arm, on deck in the moonlight. Spencer, however, rarely left his room. It was as though he were a prisoner shackled to his laptop.
As she sat on a deck chair beside the pool reading a French fashion magazine, she surreptitiously watched Trent and Raven frolic in the water like love-struck adolescents. They frequently embraced and kissed, either unaware of her or simply not caring about her presence. A twinge of envy pulled at Tabitha's heart.
If only—but she quickly pushed the thought aside.
* * *
The weather, which had been warm and sunny during the cruise, abruptly changed the day the Amour Bateau docked at the small, secluded island. Dark clouds appeared overhead, and there was a frosty chill in the air.
Tabitha, who was wearing shorts and a halter top, shivered every time the wind blew.
"I wouldn't be too sure about those icebergs," she joked to Spencer as they walked toward their suite.
Spencer put the electronic key in the lock and opened the door. The hotel rooms were as exquisitely and as tastefully decorated as their cabin on the Amour Bateau had been. Even a man like Spencer—who was equally at home in the Plaza as he was at a Motel 6 just as long as his room had a bed, running water and Internet access—was impressed.
"This is the type of place I imagine I would pick if I were on a honeymoon," he declared.
The elegance of his surroundings did not distract him for long, however. He took his laptop out of its case, booted it up and tried to go online.
"Damn! It's not working."
He then took his cell phone out of his pocket. It, too, would not function. As Spencer let out a string of four-letter words, his wife came to his aid.
"I'll call the manager and find out what's happening."
But as she looked around the suite, she could find neither a telephone nor an intercom. There wasn't even a television set in the room.
"Maybe this is what the upper class considers roughing it," she laughed.
Tabitha had been a small-town girl who had put herself through college by waiting tables. She had worked hard to attain the position of fashion editor of a nationally recognized magazine before meeting and marrying Spencer Knowles. Yet despite her good fortune, she did not forget her humble beginnings. Neither, for that matter, did her husband. He was a self-made man and did not give himself airs like so many nouveau riche did.
Spencer looked at his watch.
"It's almost six. I think I'll take a hot shower. Then I'll speak to Byron Van Sant when we go down to dinner."
When Mr. and Mrs. Knowles entered the dining room, the other guests were already present. Again, Tabitha felt that twinge of envy at the sight of the three happily married couples. Trent Wagner was standing with his arm around his wife's waist, Dwayne and Ellie were holding hands, and even the elderly Dr. and Mrs. Danforth were sitting close together in a dimly lit corner of the room.
"I guess we should just help ourselves," Tabitha said, pointing to the lavish buffet.
"You go get something to eat. I want to find Van Sant."
Tabitha was used to her husband's behavior. On more than one occasion, she had been abandoned at dinner. This time, however, Spencer was back before she had the chance to fill her plate.
"I ran into Van Sant out in the hall. He told me he'd be in here in a minute."
"Don't you want something to eat?"
"Would you be a dear and throw some meat and potatoes on a plate for me? I just want to see if there's a phone in the lobby."
That was just like Spencer, his wife thought. This delicious gourmet meal was beyond his appreciation. He would have been satisfied with a greasy burger and fries just as long as they didn't interfere with his business.
"There's no phone there either," he said when he returned. "What kind of place is this?"
"It's a place for lovers—not businessmen."
No sooner had the eight people finished eating than Byron Van Sant entered the room.
"I hope you have all found the food to your liking. Yes, Mr. Knowles," he said when the businessman approached him. "I'm aware that your cell phone doesn't work. Neither will any of your other devices, I'm afraid. We have an elaborate electronic field here that blocks all incoming and outgoing transmissions."
Now Spencer was not the only guest who looked disturbed. The two Hollywood stars and the wealthy doctor were also upset with the situation. Why would a resort try to block their guests' contact with the outside world? Especially when most of those guests were worth millions.
"This place," Byron continued, "is no simple honeymoon lodge. It's a little more than meets the eye."
Now even the penniless Arbuckles were curious.
"Three of the couples in this room are here to enjoy a romantic vacation, but I'm afraid one of you was brought here under false pretenses. You see, my associates and I were paid a very large sum of money by one of the people in this room to eliminate his or her spouse. I am, of course, not at liberty to name that person. When the Amour Bateau comes back ...."
"What do you mean 'comes back'?" Dr. Danforth asked.
"The Amour Bateau left shortly after you all disembarked. As I was saying, when the ship comes back, only seven of you will be returning to Miami—alive, that is. Until that time, make yourselves at home and do try to enjoy your stay."
No sooner did Van Sant's little speech end, than the lights went out and the eight guests were thrust into total darkness. By the time Trent found his way to the light switch on the wall, the mysterious host had disappeared.
The Arbuckles looked at one another and smiled. Neither one of them had the money to finance such a scheme. Two other couples also looked trustingly at each other. Carlton and Judith Danforth had been happily married for fifty years, and Raven and Trent were newlyweds. Eventually, all six people turned and stared at Spencer and Tabitha Knowles with suspicion. Tabitha felt her face burn with embarrassment.
Her husband took her gently by the arm.
"Come on, darling. It's getting late. You must be tired. Good night, everyone."
Tabitha was trembling as they ascended the staircase, so Spencer did not let go of her arm until they were safely at the top. She wanted to thank him for his consideration, for pretending to be a loyal, loving husband in front of the others, but did he have an ulterior motive? Had he orchestrated this expensive and bizarre plot to eliminate her?
The other couples happily returned to their suites where they could not help discussing the behavior of the other guests during the cruise. It was the general consensus that either Tabitha or Spencer Knowles had arranged for the murder.
"I never saw them together during the cruise," Ellie commented suspiciously.
"He was always in his room," Dwayne said in agreement, "supposedly working."
"Every time I see her, she looks so sad and lonely, the poor thing," Judith confided to her husband.
"It doesn't make much sense," Carlton mused. "If Mrs. Knowles dies on the island, there are six witnesses who will testify against her husband."
"I understand she only married him for his money," Trent told his wife.
"If he dies, she'll probably inherit a fortune," Raven added.
* * *
There was no improvement in the weather the following day. Even though the temperature was considerably warmer, there had been a heavy downpour during the previous night that left a stifling humidity in its wake. To make matters worse, the air conditioning was not working properly.
One by one the perspiring guests walked into the dining room for breakfast. This time there was no elegant buffet awaiting them. The Arbuckles took a seat at a table for two and waited for a server to appear, but Raven was not so patient.
"Hello?" she called through the open door to the kitchen. "Can someone come out here and take our order?"
There was no response, so she went into the room to investigate.
"There's no one there," she informed the others upon her return.
Trent searched the lobby, the office and the other communal rooms on the first floor.
"I think we're the only ones here," he told his fellow guests. "There's no sign of a maid, a cook or a bellhop anywhere."
"Come to think of it," Dr. Danforth said, "I don't remember seeing anyone except Mr. Van Sant since we arrived on this island."
Judith then asked, "What about onboard the ship? Did any of you see a steward or a purser? A deckhand?"
The others shook their heads.
"We were too anxious to be alone," Trent laughed nervously. "We didn't bother looking for the help."
"There must have been people here to cook all that food we had last night and clean up the mess afterward," Ellie pointed out. "What could have happened to them? Where could they be?"
"Who knows?" Raven asked sarcastically. "Maybe they all went on strike, or maybe they were abducted by aliens. What I'd like to know is how long will we survive stranded on this island?"
"Oh, come on," Tabitha said. "It's not all that bad. We've got shelter, and I'm sure there must be food somewhere around here. We'll just have to prepare it ourselves."
Ellie sighed. As a mother of six, she did more than her share of cooking. She had looked forward to being waited on during her stay on the island.
Dr. Danforth sat at a table and asked, like the true chauvinist he was, "Why don't you lovely ladies go out into the kitchen and see what you can whip up for breakfast?"
"I don't think so, Doc," Raven replied acerbically. "Perhaps your wife is a prisoner of your 1950s mentality, but I'm not. I suggest we all take turns doing the cooking—men and women both. Care to draw straws to see who goes first?"
The doctor turned red with anger. Where did the Hollywood tramp get off treating him like that? Perhaps her husband was not man enough to stand up to her, but Carlton Danforth was. Judith saw the familiar expression on her husband's face and tried to defuse the situation before his temper exploded.
"I don't mind doing the cooking," she said. "In fact, I've always enjoyed it."
Raven glared at the doctor's wife as though the older woman were a traitor to her sex who had just set the women's ongoing struggle for equal rights back a century.
"I'll give you a hand," Tabitha cheerfully volunteered. "After all, I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen."
* * *
The humidity continued to rise throughout the morning, and the guests' spirits grew steadily worse. Shortly after lunch, it began raining again, and each couple headed to a different part of the hotel.
"You know," Ellie said, as she and Dwayne sat on the veranda watching the rain fall, "the doctor's wife seems to be afraid of his temper. Perhaps she has a good reason to be. Do you think he might want her dead?"
Dwayne shrugged and answered, "Maybe, but I think it's more likely to be the other way around. She probably has a better reason for wanting to get rid of him."
Raven and Trent, too, were having second thoughts about the potential victim being one of the Knowleses.
"Did you notice how his meek little wife never says 'boo' to him?" Raven asked. "If I were her, I'd definitely consider putting a contract out on the good doctor."
The unpleasant weather continued the next day and the next. The air was thick not only with humidity but also with suspicion. As the temperatures remained in the nineties, tempers became shorter. There were frequent arguments between the guests, and the honeymoon atmosphere had vanished. Not even the newlyweds acted like lovers anymore.
"Who picked this place out anyway, your agent?" Trent asked, trying to drown his troubles with a bottle of rum and a warm Coke.
Raven hated it when Trent drank. It always made him belligerent.
"No, wiseass. It was my publicity manager."
"We couldn't fly to Hawaii as I suggested," the actor complained. "Heaven forbid that our honeymoon didn't live up to your fans' expectations! Tell me, darling, do you honestly think that by kissing the ass of every moviegoer in America you can put off the inevitable? Face it, baby. You're getting older. Sooner or later, you're going to have to give up playing starry-eyed virgins and start settling for those matronly character roles."
As she had done to her leading men in several of her movies, Raven dramatically slapped her husband across the face. But this was no Hollywood movie set; this was real life. Trent reached out his open hand and slapped her back—hard, so hard that Raven tasted blood inside her mouth. Like an aggressive cat, she scratched at his face with her long, manicured fingernails, going directly for the eyes. Trent fought back. His fist connected with her jaw, and Raven felt herself sailing across the room. Physically, the actress was no match for the former martial arts master, so rather than risk a serious injury she left the lounge, returned to her room and locked herself inside.
Lying across the king-sized bed with a cold rag on her swelling face, Raven took a long, hard look at her relationship with Trent Wagner. During the six years they lived together before getting married, there had been quite a few arguments, although none had ever come to blows. But their love affair had not been without its drawbacks. Why, then, had Trent been so anxious to marry her? Could he be having some financial problems of which she was unaware? Problems that could be solved should she die and her widower inherit her hard-earned wealth?
Back in the lounge, Trent lay in his own vomit. Blood and tears mingled on his cheeks. Had he been sober, he would never have struck his wife—although God knew there were many times during the past six years that he thought she deserved it. As sweet as Raven was in public, she could be a real shrew in private. She had always been a militant feminist. Now Trent wondered if her zeal might mask a deep hatred of the opposite sex. Could she hate men enough to want her own husband dead?
* * *
"It's as hot as hell here," Dr. Danforth whined, fanning himself with an old newspaper. "This was some gift our kids got us, wasn't it?"
"They meant well," Judith argued. "I'm sure they had no idea the air conditioner would break down."
"I wonder how they heard about this damned cruise in the first place. The whole thing smells fishy to me. How come there were only four couples on a boat that size? Why didn't we see any cruise ship employees except for that Van Sant fellow? And where did he go to? More importantly, why did the ship just raise anchor and leave us stranded on an island with no means of communicating with the rest of the world?"
"I'm sure I don't know, dear. It must all be part of this murder plot Mr. Van Sant spoke of."
"What are we doing here then?" he said.
An idea came to him suddenly.
"I wonder if someone might have suggested this little cruise to Claudette."
"Who do you have in mind?"
Carlton's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"You, of course. The kids have always listened to you."
"This vacation was a complete surprise to me."
"Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Why would I lie about such a thing?"
"Maybe you're the one who hired Van Sant and his associates."
"That's ridiculous!" she countered. "You are much more likely to have hired him than I am."
Carlton was stunned. Judith had never answered him back before.
"Me? Why on earth would I want you dead? You don't know what you're talking about," he said condescendingly.
"Oh no? Perhaps you want me out of the way so you can marry that blond flight attendant you see on Tuesdays and Fridays when you're supposed to be playing golf at the country club."
In fifty years, Judith had never complained about her marriage, nor had she ever mentioned her husband's faults. Still, she had not been blind to them either. She remained silent out of love, out of duty and out of respect for her husband, but she would be silent no longer.
"Did you think I didn't know about your extramarital affairs?"
Carlton's face again turned red with anger, and perspiration beaded up on his brow.
"I've known about them all," Judith continued. "Even that pre-med student you were seeing while you were still in Harvard. While I was changing bedpans to put you through medical school, you were playing doctor with her."
Dr. Danforth could feel his blood pressure rise.
"Hold your tongue, woman," he growled. "Don't you dare ...."
"Oh, shut up, Carlton. I'm tired of your telling me what to do, what to say, what to wear—even what to think! No, I didn't hire Mr. Van Sant to kill you, but I wish I had. Do you know what I've discovered since we've been on this accursed island?"
Carlton stared at her, speechless, boiling with rage.
"I finally realized that you are nothing but a pompous ass, and I don't like you very much."
Like Vesuvius, Carlton's temper erupted, and he screamed vituperations at his wife. The foul language he used was more suitable to a Boston fish market than to the venerable halls of Harvard. His outburst had a strange, unforeseen effect on Judith. He expected her to cower, to run from the room in tears or to beg his forgiveness. Instead, she looked at his mottled face and bulging eyes and laughed. Her peals of laughter only served to enrage him all the more.
Taken aback by his wife's response, Dr. Danforth stopped screaming and took to stomping his feet and throwing things across the room. Suddenly, he stopped mid-tantrum. His eyes bugged out even more, and he clutched his chest. Then he fell to his knees, looking to Judith for help.
"You're a doctor, Carlton. You should have taken better care of yourself. You ignored me when I told you to watch what you ate and get more exercise. Now look at you."
Her husband fell to the floor, gasping for breath, the pain in his chest unbearable.
"Sorry, dear," his wife said sweetly, "but I can't call for help. We haven't got a phone."
Dr. Carlton Danforth flopped around the floor like an ungainly fish taken out of water. After several minutes he became still, and Judith reached down and closed his unseeing eyes.
* * *
Dwayne put a wet towel on his sunburned back and stretched across the bed on his stomach. He had spent too much time at the pool, trying to cool off. Now he was in agony. Ellie, on the other hand, was walking around with a rosy smile on her face, apparently still enjoying herself.
"Cheer up, honey," she said brightly. "At least it's not raining anymore."
Dwayne shook his head with disgust.
"I never thought I'd say it, but I'll actually be glad to get back to New Jersey."
"What are you talking about? Are you going to let a little sunburn ruin our second honeymoon?"
"Honeymoon? Wake up, Ellie! This has been a vacation to hell."
Ellie's eyes filled with unshed tears, and her lower lip quivered.
"I thought you would enjoy having time alone with me. I guess I was wrong."
"Oh, don't start crying. You do that all the time. It's beginning to get on my nerves."
"I wouldn't want to do that," she said coyly, immediately switching her tactics.
She walked over to her husband and ran her fingers through his prematurely graying hair.
"Why don't we go try to enjoy ourselves and make the best of the time we have left?"
Dwayne gently pushed her hand away.
"I'm not in the mood."
Ellie stared at her husband, unable to comprehend the sudden change in him. Then she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the bathroom door. Her face was just as pretty, and despite six pregnancies, she still had a slender figure. How was it then that she was losing her hold on him? Fortunately, she still had an ace up her sleeve. It was time to play it.
"I was going to wait to tell you until we got home, but I guess now is as good a time as any."
"Tell me what?" he asked, preparing himself for an unpleasant surprise.
"I'm pregnant."
Dwayne had heard his wife utter those two words six times before, and each time she spoke them he had found them a heavier cross to bear.
"Oh, Christ, Ellie, haven't you been taking your pills?"
"I forget sometimes. Taking care of a house and six kids isn't easy."
"And now you want to make it seven. Seven! We're not even twenty-five years old, and we're going to have our seventh kid."
"I could always have an abortion."
It was the same empty threat Ellie had made six times before of a drastic step that if taken would have preyed on her husband's conscience for the rest of his life. Dwayne, the nice Catholic boy, would never have considered such a dire solution; but Dwayne, the overworked, underpaid father of six who was already drowning in a sea of debt began to see the procedure as a blessing.
"An abortion might be wise, given our financial situation," he said emotionlessly.
A cry of anguish escaped from Ellie's lips. Now her tears were genuine, not engineered to play on her husband's sympathy.
"You'd actually let me kill our baby?" she asked hysterically.
"We can't afford another kid. I'm busting my ass to pay for the ones we have now. And with the loss of three weeks' pay ...."
Discouraged, he threw his hands up in the air as if surrendering to a higher force, one determined to grind him into dust.
"Abortion is murder, and murder is a sin," Ellie insisted.
"I've come to believe it's a far greater sin to bring unwanted children into this world."
"Unwanted? All this time I thought you loved our babies."
"I do. I fell in love with them once they were born and I held them in my arms. But I certainly wasn't ready to be a father at sixteen, to give up all hope of college and a decent career, to spend my life working for assholes like Joe Brady. At this rate, I'll be an old man by the time I'm thirty."
"Is that all you care about," Ellie screamed, "what's missing in your life? What about mine? Do you think I liked spending most of the last eight years being pregnant? That I like living in that little shack of a house? If I'd waited, I might have married a man with a future."
They were both silent for several minutes, watching their marriage rapidly disintegrate before their eyes.
"I should have had the abortion back in high school," Ellie announced as she picked up her beach towel. "We'd both be a lot better off now if I had."
She then left him alone in the room and headed back out to the pool.
Dwayne, who was already miserable, now had the added burden of guilt to bear. He had broken his wife's heart and forsaken his children. For a brief moment, he actually wished they had never been born. Could he rectify things now, go to Ellie and apologize, or was his soul already damned for even considering abortion? Was the thought itself a sin or only the actual deed?
What were his options? To have a seventh child? To have another hospital bill hanging over his head? Maybe it would be better if he let welfare pay his bills. Others did it; why shouldn't he? Could the taste of his swallowed pride be any bitterer than the failure and disappointment that was slowly poisoning him already?
Suddenly, another answer presented itself. After he and Ellie had gotten married, his father talked him into purchasing a life insurance policy. It had been a struggle, but he managed to keep up the premiums. If he were to die, Ellie and the kids would get $75,000, and if his death was ruled an accident, they would get $150,000 double indemnity. That was more than enough to get his family out of debt and give them a new start.
Feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Dwayne got up off the bed and walked out of the room, intent on taking one final swim. Then he turned, went back to the room and picked up a beach towel. It would have to appear to be an accident.
* * *
Tabitha looked at her husband through tear-stained eyes.
"I'm frightened," she cried. "First Dr. Danforth has a fatal heart attack, and now that poor young man's body washes up with the tide. I can't help wondering who might be next."
Spencer put his arms around his wife in an effort to comfort her.
"Don't talk such nonsense," he said gently.
"Oh, Spencer," she said, snuggling up against him. "Do you ...?"
The words stuck in her throat, but she had to ask them.
"Do you ever wish you hadn't married me?"
"No. Never. What about you? Do you regret marrying me?"
He had wondered several times during the past few days if Tabitha wanted him out of the way. Perhaps she had hired Van Sant, hoping to gain his entire fortune as well as her freedom.
"No," his wife replied honestly. "I like being married to you. You're very good to me."
"I try to see that you get whatever you want."
"I'm not talking about money. You've always been kind, considerate and respectful. You never treated me like a 'kept woman.'"
"I never considered you one. You're my wife, not my mistress."
Spencer then unexpectedly leaned forward and kissed her. It was not the platonic peck on the cheek he usually gave her on holidays and birthdays or when he went away on business trips. It was the kiss of a man who loved a woman.
"I was afraid that you were the one," she admitted, holding him tightly, "that you wanted to get rid of me."
"I love you, Tabitha. I only hid behind my work because I was afraid to tell you how I felt. I feared you might reject me."
"I love you, too."
Despite the hot, humid weather, the broken air conditioner, the absence of maids and cooks and the uncertainty of the whole bizarre situation, Tabitha and Spencer Knowles thoroughly enjoyed their remaining days on the island. For them at least, it was a true honeymoon.
* * *
At the end of the week, the Amour Bateau suddenly reappeared at the dock one morning. Byron Van Sant was waiting for the surviving guests at the top of the gangplank. A week earlier Spencer Knowles would have bombarded the man with questions and accusations, but now he merely nodded at him and smiled as he boarded the Amour Bateau arm in arm with his beautiful wife, Tabitha.
Ellie Arbuckle, who had lied to Dwayne about her pregnancy, was stricken with grief and remorse and had not spoken to anyone for days. She simply hurried to her stateroom after Mr. Van Sant promised he would take care of transporting her husband's body back to New Jersey.
Byron also assured Mrs. Danforth that he would take care of the doctor's remains as well. But unlike Ellie, Judith was no grieving widow. She looked forward to returning home to her children and to a new life that awaited her in Boston.
Trent Wagner, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, loudly demanded his own accommodations, vowing he would not spend another night in the same room with his "bitch of a wife." Meanwhile, Raven Castle walked past her husband without saying a word. She would let her lawyer speak for her when she filed for divorce.
* * *
The Amour Bateau set sail shortly after the six passengers and two corpses were aboard. On the cruise back to Miami, it was Tabitha and Spencer Knowles who acted like lovebirds.
"Ah!" Byron said with a smile. "Our little marriage encounter worked out well for the two of you, I see. It's ironic that on the surface your marriage was far inferior to the others, and yet it seems to be the one that will last."
"Mr. Van Sant," Tabitha asked, "can you tell us which of those two women hired you to eliminate her husband?"
Byron chuckled.
"I confess no one hired me to kill anyone. I simply introduced a potential serpent into the Garden of Eden and then sat back and watched your reactions."
"Who are you, really?" Spencer asked.
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."
"I don't suppose I'm still expected to put money into this venture."
"No, Mr. Knowles. The investment scheme was only a ruse to get you on board the ship."
Spencer looked at Tabitha, grateful that they were truly man and wife at last. Who was he to question the miracle that had finally brought them together?
Salem can be ready for a cruise at the drop of a straw hat.
