Murder for the Halibut (11 page)

“Oh man, that must’ve been tough,” Michael said.

“It was. I knew it was too dangerous to leave her at
home alone, but there was no way I could keep up the house payments without a job.”

“So, what’d you do?” Michael asked.

By now everyone at the table was mesmerized by Jerry Goosman’s story. Both Lola and
Rosie looked like they were about to cry with him. In a matter of minutes the man
had gone from a married man on the prowl to Saint Jerry taking care of his invalid
wife.

“I found a great private home on the outskirts of Miami overlooking a man-made lake.
It’s run by a family whose own mother had Alzheimer’s and a staff of seasoned, professional
caregivers, so they know how to handle others with the same disease. Unfortunately,
my insurance wouldn’t pay for it. So, I sold our house and moved into a one-bedroom
apartment. It’s pretty crappy, but I’m never there anymore, anyway.”

“I hate insurance companies,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Last year I had to fight
like a tiger to get a simple mole removed from the back of my neck. They said it was
cosmetic surgery.” He huffed. “Cosmetic surgery, my butt. I finally had to have one
of my regular customers at the antique store pretend to be a lawyer and send a threatening
letter.” He touched the back of his neck and grinned. “I do look better without it,
don’t I?”

Lola shot him an are-you-seriously-comparing-a-mole-to-Alzheimer’s look, and he quickly
wiped the grin off his face. She might be old and a tad chubby, but the woman had
a stare that could put the fear of God in anyone.

The awkward silence that ensued was mercifully interrupted a moment later by Emily’s
arrival.

“Looks like you’re all here,” she said when she approached.
“Good, because we have to go over the details of tonight’s competition. We need to
make a decision about the best way to handle Stefano’s death without making it the
focus of the entire night.”

No one responded. The men and women alike were entranced by Emily’s striking appearance,
the way her sleek sundress accentuated every curve of her chiseled body. There was
definitely a personal trainer on her payroll. Even Victor was speechless, which was
a miracle in itself.

The woman was a walking goddess, and she didn’t even seem to notice that all eyes
around the table were focused on her beauty, not her words. Jordan wondered what it
would be like to be that gorgeous for just one day.

Ray stood and offered his seat before sliding over next to Lola and plopping down.
The man knew his lady better than any of them did and had apparently decided even
sitting next to the beautiful New Yorker might prove dangerous to his health.

“I heard the cruise line has decided to refund anyone who wants to leave tomorrow
when we dock in Puerto Rico. Has anyone signed up yet?” Michael asked, unable to hide
the anxiety in his voice.

Emily opened the file she’d brought with her. “We gave them two hours after we announced
that the show would go on. That ended right before lunch with only three couples opting
out. One was an older gentleman and his wife who had a bad case of seasickness. The
other two didn’t give reasons. At any rate, Wayne and I are relieved most of the people
decided to stay on.” She turned to face Michael. “Lighten up. Your boss and I will
make sure this still turns out to be amazing.”

“Emily, have you met Jerry Goosman? He’s head of security,” Ray said.

Goose shook her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Ray continued. “He’s spearheading the onboard investigation into Stefano’s death.”

A look of panic crossed Emily’s face. “Wayne told me you two didn’t find anything
when you checked the tapes from the kitchen.”

Goose nodded. “So far we’ve found no evidence to indicate Stefano’s death was anything
more than a careless mistake. But as long as the ship is liable and can be slapped
with another wrongful death suit, I’m obliged to continue the investigation until
I can completely rule out foul play.”

Victor gasped. “
Another
wrongful death suit? You mean others have died suspiciously on this ship?”

“Relax,” Ray said. “Goose was only referring to the legal issues when someone accidently
gets hurt or drinks enough to drown a cow and ends up overboard. He wasn’t talking
about anything criminal, right, Goose?”

“That’s correct, although last year a man was accused of pushing his wife overboard.
The Miami cops took him into custody when we docked, but last I heard, they still
hadn’t found enough evidence to actually charge him with anything.”

Victor swiped his hand across his forehead. “Whew! That’s a relief. Note to self:
don’t drink and lean over the railing, especially after ticking off one of these ladies
here.”

The overacted display was enough to restore everyone’s
good mood. For the next thirty minutes, Emily and the group laid out plans both for
the evening’s events and for addressing the issue of Stefano’s death without allowing
it to weigh down the spirit of the competition.

Finally, Rosie stood and shoved her chair back. “Oh, Lord. I lost track of the time.
I need to get back to the kitchen and make sure things are in order for tomorrow’s
lunch.”

“What will you be cooking?” Victor asked, licking his lips.

“Something new—stuffed cabbage rolls. I got the recipe from Meg, the skinny bartender
down at Cowboys. She calls it Pigs in the Blanket.”

Lola looked confused. “I thought that was sausage wrapped in a crescent roll.”

“In Texas it is, but this gal hails from Pittsburgh and is as Yankee as it gets. Shoot,
she even adds sugar to her cornbread. No self-respecting southern girl would ever
be caught dead doing that.” She huffed. “Anyway, she brought me a ‘piggy’ to try,
and I’m here to tell you, it was the best damn thing I’ve tasted in a long time. She
can call it whatever she wants, for all I care.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to try it,” Victor said, sending an I-dare-you-to-open-your-mouth
look Michael’s way. “You coming up to the pool later, Rosie?”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “While y’all are lying around in the sun, Luigi,
the pastry chef, will be giving me a personal tour of the kitchen.” She winked. “Just
me, Luigi, and eight hundred sugar-filled treats.”

“Ohmygod! You have to bring some back to our room,” Jordan said, excited. “I’d give
anything to have another one of those Kahlúa…”

She slammed her hand over her mouth as Rosie shot her a look, saying a silent prayer
that no one had picked up on the slip. Victor, who usually never missed anything,
especially if it was about food, tilted his head her way, his eyes questioning. She
knew a little help from above wasn’t in the cards today.

“Kahlúa what, Jordan?” he asked, his lips curled in a comical pout. “And why didn’t
I get one?”

Rosie faked a laugh. “Jordan didn’t get one, either. Beau Lincoln hit on her last
night and offered his famous brownies if she’d let him come to her room.”

Jordan blew out a relieved breath. Thank goodness Rosie thought fast on her feet.
Jordan herself had never been a good liar and was positive she couldn’t have pulled
it off. Even though, technically, Rosie hadn’t lied.

“Are you serious? The man’s loaded,” Ray piped in. “If he wants to get friendly with
our cute little redhead here, he’d better come up with a lot more than a brownie,
especially since Rosie’s awesome chocolate cake has set the bar pretty high.”

“There isn’t enough money in the world to convince me to play nice with that man.
Besides, he tossed me aside like a dirty rag when he got a look at Marsha.” Jordan
scooted her chair back. “Who’s going to the pool with me?”

“I am, even though I had that extra plate of food.” Victor shot Michael a look, daring
him to say something. When it was obvious his partner had no intentions of going down
that road again, Victor shrugged. “You coming?”

Michael shook his head. “Can’t. I’m having coffee with Wayne to go over tonight’s
details. Have fun, though, and don’t forget to use sunscreen.”

“Ray and I will be holed up all afternoon going over the rest of the security tapes,”
Goose said.

“That means I’m available,” Lola chimed in. “Might as well get some use out of that
new bathing suit since it cost an arm and a leg and doesn’t cover either.”

“I’d love to join you,” Emily said. “If that’s all right with everyone.”

Oh, great!
A visual of Emily in a drop-dead gorgeous bikini flashed through Jordan’s head. But
she said, “Of course,” hoping the woman didn’t pick up on the reluctance in her voice.
She was already comparing her own black-and-white suit with a padded top to Emily’s
imagined skimpy one.

“Terrific. Let’s say we meet in twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good.” Jordan stood and said good-bye to her friends who were staying behind
and then walked to the elevator with the others.

She had just enough time to freshen up before Victor and Lola showed up ready to go.
Wondering what to say to a woman like Emily, she was thankful she wouldn’t have to
be alone with her. Giggling to herself, she imagined Victor talking her head off.
He would have no problem making conversation with the rich, insanely gorgeous New
York lawyer. Michael always teased he could carry on a conversation with a tree stump.

On the way up to the Lido Deck and the main pool, they chatted about the appetizer
round of the cooking contest to be held later that evening. The heat of the sun hit
them the moment they stepped out into the open, reminding Jordan once again to smear
on the sunscreen. Emily was already at the far end of the pool and waved to
them. They walked over to where she’d commandeered four chaise lounges in a coveted
spot close to the bar.

“Come on, guys. Last one in has to buy drinks,” Victor said, nearly knocking Jordan
over to get past her to the pool.

Lola spread her towel on the chair and followed suit. “You two coming?” she asked
before jumping in with a big splash.

When Lola resurfaced, Jordan replied, “I’ll be in in a minute. I want to get really
hot and sweaty first. It makes it so much better when the cold water hits.”

“Good idea,” Emily said, pulling off her cover-up and stretching out on the lounge
chair.

Once again, all eyes were on her. Jordan’s earlier thoughts of Emily in a bathing
suit hadn’t even come close to what she really looked like. In a bright navy and green
bikini, Emily could have been one of the models in the annual
Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit Edition—no doubt, the cover. And just as before, the woman didn’t seem to
notice that everyone had stopped to stare.

Jordan spread her towel and lay down on the chair beside her. For a few minutes neither
spoke, both amusing themselves by watching Victor’s antics as he tried to do a handstand
in the water.

“You are so lucky to have friends like that,” Emily finally said, a hint of sadness
in her voice. “I love them all already.”

“I know,” Jordan responded, silently counting her blessings. “What about your friends?
Did any of them come with you on the cruise?”

Emily lowered her eyes. “I spend sixteen hours every
day at the office, and I still end up taking work home with me. Since I am OCD about
working out at least an hour before I go to bed every night, it doesn’t leave a whole
lot of time to make friends, let alone keep up with them. I suppose that’s why sponsoring
this cruise was so appealing to me. At least here I have a few hours to myself, even
though I spent all morning on the computer trying to fix a major problem back in New
York.”

“Are you a native New Yorker?” Jordan asked, feeling sorry for the woman, whose entire
life revolved around work. Maybe being rich wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“I grew up in the South and spent the better part of my young adulthood in Colombia.”

“Wow! I’ll bet that was fun. Were you an exchange student?”

For a second Jordan thought she saw anger flash in Emily’s eyes before she smiled
and said, “I was sent there to live with my aunt and her husband after my parents
died in a car accident. They were missionaries and ran a local orphanage.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jordan replied, suddenly thanking her lucky stars that both her parents
were not only still alive but also healthy and happy. She didn’t know what she’d do
if something happened to either of them.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Emily said, but Jordan couldn’t help noticing the sadness in her
eyes before she looked away and pointed across the pool. “Isn’t that Casey over there?”

Jordan shot up and followed Emily’s gaze. Dressed in an oversized man’s shirt and
the same capris she’d had on at the bar the night before, Casey Washington was holding
hands with an equally dumpy-looking man: none
other than Thomas Collingsworth. From the way Casey was brushing against him and hanging
on his every word, Jordan had no doubt this guy was the reason for the precautions
she’d found in Casey’s purse the night before.