Book 5 - Murder on the Retro Rewind Cruise - Olivia Ocean Cruise Ship Mysteries (E-Book) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Big Hair, Bigger Secrets... and a Killer on Board.

When cruise ship photographer Olivia Ocean is assigned to capture the neon thrills of the Retro Rewind Cruise, she expects leg warmers, lip-sync battles, and a splash of Aqua Net—not murder.

But when an '80s rock band announces their retirement while at sea and the lead singer's brand-new bride ends up dead, Olivia finds herself tangled in a mystery more twisted than a cassette tape. With her trusty feline sidekick, Pickle, and brooding ship Security Manager Miles Blackwell at her side, Olivia must navigate a ship full of suspects—from obsessed super fans to jealous bandmates.

As the cruise ship sails closer to port and the clues pile up faster than Olivia’s photo backlog, she’ll need to solve the case before the killer strikes again… or before she becomes the next throwback tragedy.

Lights. Camera. Murder. Welcome aboard.

With the ornate architecture of Barcelona in the backdrop, the Moonlit Majesty looked even more extravagant than usual. Since relocating to Europe, I hadn’t had the opportunity to go ashore yet, but my friend and Security Manager, Miles Blackwell, told me more than once that he’s working on a shore pass for the two of us as soon as crime mellows out on our cruise ship.

As a security manager, Miles had dealt with everything from grand theft to murder—more than once—and I’d learned to be helpful and observant. I only hoped the most excitement this 80’s-theme cruise would bring would be some pretty elaborate costumes.

To welcome guests aboard the Retro Rewind Cruise, the atrium exploded in a burst of neon. Bars of pink and orange lights rimmed the grand staircase while two stacks of oversized cassette tapes flanked the bottom of the stairs. A giant video screen had been mounted above the railing of the second deck, angled down and was currently playing a video of Madonna’s “Material Girl.”

I immediately focused in on my usual location to welcome guests aboard. Even that had been transformed from our cruise line’s logo into a backdrop of purple palm trees and geometric shapes. It had a sign above it, the giant loopy font labeling it: Totally Rad Photo Ops!

Before I could take off my lens cap and capture any of the elaborate décor with my camera, my roommate Becky rushed up, excitement in her eyes, and grabbed me by my shoulders.

“Can you believe it, Olivia? Any second now, Crimson Valley is going to walk through those doors!” Becky’s British accent made her sound more composed than she clearly was. “They are only my mum’s favorite band of all time!”

I wondered how she would react if it was her favorite band, rather than her mum’s.

The bands were supposed to board before the rest of the passengers, and that had been true for five of the six bands who would be performing aboard our Retro Rewind Cruise. But Crimson Valley had yet to board. I wondered if they were like my late gran and had planned to be punctual, but just weren’t great with time management.

“Promise me you’ll try to get a photo of me with them?” Becky took my arm and begged me with pleading eyes.

I looked both ways throughout the atrium. In truth, I’d have to get permission to photograph any band members and my boss, Phillip, would not have any patience for me fulfilling my roommates fan-girl whims. And yet, I would do almost anything for Becky.

“You don’t have to be in the shops?” I asked, stalling. I was well aware that our shops had to remain closed while we were in port.

As it turned out, she didn’t have time to respond to my nonsensical question because exactly at that moment there was a flurry of activity at the gangway.

Crimson Valley was boarding our ship.

The only band member I recognized from the group was Nathaniel Ashton, the lead singer. He had scruffy curly brown hair, with a few gray tendrils over his forehead, and a charismatic smile for everyone he met. I’d never seen a photo where the man wasn’t smiling, actually. I’d caught wind of him marrying recently, which had likely been a heartbreaking announcement for many of America’s young women, and I wondered if the woman at his side in sleek black leather pants and platinum hair was his new wife.

The other band members in his wake appeared a lot less cheery—possibly even grumpy. This wasn’t totally unusual for boarding passengers, but I guess I expected a bit of public showmanship, like I’d seen from the previous band members.

Often travel took a lot out of people and I had to work to achieve smiles—reminding them they’d have seven days to let us pamper them. But I assumed these musicians were already pampered. As if to highlight this, a plump man in his fifties lifted each of the band member’s carry-on backpacks onto the security belt while the band members tromped through the scanner empty handed.

One of them had tattoos up both arms and around his neck. They all wore sleeveless shirts and most of them had long hair with varying amounts of gray. One wore a studded leather vest over his T-shirt.

Miles greeted each of them with a smile and at least then they all offered him a quick practiced smile in return. All except for the platinum blonde woman, who completely ignored Miles’s hand, skirting up beside Nathaniel and taking his arm instead.

She had to be the new wife.

I’d lost track of Becky, who I now realized was no longer beside me. In the blink of an eye, she’d moved over near the gangway and was stretching out a hand to Mr. Ashton. I couldn’t hear her from my position twenty feet away and I wondered if she was acting as the Moonlit Majesty’s welcoming committee--although not currently in a crew uniform—or if she was only acting as a crazed fan.

When she motioned back toward me, I felt the blood drain from my face. She was going to get us both into trouble.

Next thing I knew, though, Nathaniel Ashton turned his charismatic smile onto me. He shook off the blonde beside him, wrapped an arm around Becky, and led her toward my photo op backdrop.

“Absolutely,” he said in a British accent. I hadn’t even known he was British. “Let’s get a photo for Becky’s mum, shall we?”

In that short amount of time, Becky had clearly gotten her backstory across to the famous man.

“Would you do the honors?” Mr. Ashton asked me.

Now that he was asking me for a photo, I couldn’t refuse. I hoped that none of the higher-up staff would catch wind of Becky’s forwardness. I took a couple of shots as quickly as possible, hoping to get her away from him as soon as possible.

Nathaniel tilted his head in toward Becky’s as if they were old friends and I quickly snapped three more photos.

“Got ‘em!” I said. “Thank you so much,” I told Nathaniel on Becky’s behalf, because it looked as though my roommate could no longer breathe.

“Of course,” Nathaniel said. “Anything for my fans.”

At his words, I caught one of his bandmates, a Hispanic man with long hair, rolling his eyes. As Nathaniel gave Becky one last squeeze, I turned to the platinum blonde, who looked like smoke might start coming out of her ears at any second.

Definitely his new wife, and a jealous one at that.

Before the thought was through my head, the woman said, “Alright, that’s enough of the PR, Nate. This is how you get stalkers. Besides, you said we’d have today to ourselves.” Her accent was American and her voice had a whiny quality to it. But Nathaniel turned an easy smile toward her.

He let go of Becky, moved toward the blonde woman, and said, “You’re absolutely right, Charlotte. Let’s grab our things and find our room.”

While Becky was still off in some other fan-girling world, I didn’t miss the glare that Charlotte shot her as she angled her famous husband away from Becky, toward the elevators, and hustled him out of the public lobby.

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