Murder for the Halibut (29 page)

The crazed woman pushed Jordan into Beau’s back and pressed her own body against both
of them, rocking so that their combined weight would push Beau over the edge.

“It’s not too late, Emily. I promise Alex will see to it that Beau is punished,” Jordan
said, trying to get her hand on the railing for leverage.

Just as Alex entered the room shouting her name,
Emily gave one final push, and all three of them tumbled over the side of the ship.
There was a sickening thud as Beau’s body slammed into the side of the same rescue
boat that Goose had hit the night he died. For a split second Jordan thought they
would be safe, but then his body bounced off the boat into the murky water, taking
her and Emily with him.

The chilly water enveloped Jordan as she plunged deeper. In that instant when she
realized she was going to die, her life flashed before her, along with all the things
she hadn’t yet accomplished. Then her body began to rise. She kicked her arms and
legs, propelling herself upward. As soon as she broke the surface, she sucked in a
huge breath and began to tread water to keep afloat.

Seconds later, Emily’s head surfaced close to Jordan, and she, too, struggled to keep
from going back under.

From where they were, Jordan could see the ship in the distance. Knowing the large
cruise ship wouldn’t be able to reverse directions quickly, she prayed Alex already
had a rescue operation underway. She tried to swim toward the ship, but she’d depleted
her energy trying to keep her head above water, and it was a losing battle.
There was nothing else to do but wait and hope help wasn’t too late.

Several yards away, Beau’s head popped out of the water, but because his extremities
were still tied, he disappeared again within seconds. Without hesitating, Jordan took
a deep breath and paddled to the spot where she’d last seen him. Once there she sucked
in another gulp of air, then dove under the water. Even with her eyes open, she couldn’t
see a thing. Hoping to touch something that might help her pinpoint Beau’s location,
she made wide sweeping motions with her arms.

With her lungs about to explode, she finally gave up and began to push herself topside.
Halfway there, her hand brushed against something, and she grabbed on. Realizing it
was part of Beau’s tuxedo, she tugged, using every ounce of strength she had left.
But Beau was a big man, and he wasn’t helping. With only enough air left for one more
attempt, she swung her legs rapidly and jerked his body.

Finally, she and Beau began to ascend.

When her head broke the surface a second time, she was so out of breath, she thought
both she and Beau would die, despite her best effort. He was above water now, but
he was unconscious—maybe even dead. Glancing up, she saw one of the rescue boats being
lowered into the water. Realizing there was a man overboard, or in this case a man
and two women, the
Carnation Queen
’s passengers were lined up along the railing and shouting to them. Although from
that distance it was faint, it was still music to her ears, and for the first time
since her body hit the cold water, she had hope.

With her breathing now coming in short fast bursts,
she knew she wouldn’t be able to tread water and hang on to Beau much longer, and
she prayed for the strength to last until the rescue boat reached them.

She was surprised when Emily suddenly appeared beside her. Because she worked out
daily, Emily was having a much easier time staying alive than either Jordan or Beau
and wasn’t even breathing heavily. She smiled before reaching and tearing Beau out
of Jordan’s grip. With one good shove, she pushed him farther out to sea, still smiling
when he went underwater for the last time.

Horrified, Jordan braced herself for the same fate. Emily had proven she was the stronger
of the two earlier on the balcony. Already exhausted from trying to rescue Beau, Jordan
didn’t stand a chance but prepared to do battle just the same when the woman moved
closer.

With tears streaming down her face, Emily reached over and gently touched Jordan’s
cheek. “Thank you for being my friend. You’ll never know how much that meant to me.”

Then she closed her eyes and dove beneath the water.

“No!” Jordan screamed, frantically searching with both her hands and legs to feel
for Emily.

But it was not to be. The troubled woman was gone, and no rescue operation would be
able to save her.

Totally exhausted now, Jordan remembered the survival training her dad had insisted
on before he’d allow her or her brothers on a boat. Bending her back, she lay atop
the water with her legs floating halfway to the surface. No longer struggling, she
stared at the stars and prayed Alex would reach her.

Just when she was certain the boat would not get to her before her strength gave out,
she heard his voice and
looked up to see him a few yards away in the rescue boat. Strong arms lifted her out
of the water. Now as limp as an overcooked noodle, she was unable to help them. When
she was almost in the boat, she gazed into the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever
seen.

In that moment she knew this man would never let anything happen to her. The pent-up
tears she’d been holding back poured down her face as Alex covered her with a blanket
and pressed her shivering body close to his. His own tears were making trails down
his cheeks, and he didn’t seem to care if anyone saw them.

She sobbed and held on tightly. “They’re both gone.”

He pulled her closer, rocking her back and forth as if she were a child. “I know.”

Even cocooned
in the arms of the man who had won over her heart, Jordan could sleep only fitfully.
Alex had been so gentle with her after the rescue, purposely not asking about the
events that had led to her ending up in the water. He’d simply stroked her hair and
told her things would be okay.

But she knew they would never be the same. The few times she’d managed to nod off,
she’d awoken with the image in her head of Emily smiling at her in the moment just
before she dove to her death. Alex was always there to take her in his arms again
without a word. Emotionally and physically drained, she was grateful he hadn’t insisted
she tell the story yet. He’d recognized she was incapable of rehashing it without
a complete breakdown.

Alex Moreland was a keeper. And that thrilled her as well as scared the heck out of
her.

Around six, Alex suggested they get up and get some breakfast since both of them were
having a hard time getting back to sleep. Somewhere in the middle of the night the
ship had docked in Miami, and preparations were already underway for disembarkation.
Neither she nor Alex had eaten dinner the night before, and she was starving.

They were joined by Rosie, Ray, and Lola at the restaurant. Victor and Michael were
sleeping in and had sent word they would meet up with them in an hour to do the required
Customs paperwork before they left the ship.

Jordan was unusually quiet at breakfast, unable to stop thinking that if she’d picked
up even one clue from Emily, maybe she could have prevented the woman from killing
Beau and then herself.

“Jordan, are you able to tell us what happened yet?” Alex asked while they killed
time sipping coffee after breakfast.

She met his gaze. “I’ll try. I know how important it is to your investigation.”

“You don’t have to do it right now if you’re not ready, love.” He reached for her
hand under the table.

“I need to tell you the details while they’re fresh in my mind. That way you can pass
them on to the authorities in Miami. Maybe I’ll feel less guilty if I can get Emily’s
story out in the open.” She sighed. “I don’t even want to think about what would’ve
happened if you hadn’t showed up when you did, Alex. She was like a crazy woman.”

He squeezed her hand. “I was getting worried about you, and I wanted to talk to Emily.
Remember when I told you I was waiting on a report from Miami?” When she nodded, he
continued. “It came in around twenty minutes
after you left the theater. It was the results of my request for background checks
on all the ship’s employees and everyone connected to the cook-off.”

“And?” Ray put his cup down and leaned closer.

“There was no Emily Thorpe until fourteen years ago. A further check on the Social
Security number she’d listed showed that it had belonged to an eighty-five year-old
woman from New York who had died fifteen years before. Apparently, Emily stole her
identity.”

“Her name is—was—Brianna Sloan,” Jordan said, wishing she could forget it all but
knowing she had to go on. “She grew up in Ranchero.”

“What?” Lola nearly jumped out of her chair.

“And no one recognized her? Didn’t Wayne Francis say he’d lived there all his life?”
Ray asked.

Jordan nodded. “So did Beau, but apparently Emily—Anna, as she called herself—looked
nothing like she did back then. At only fifteen she left town after a horrible car
accident in which she ran her car into a bridge abutment. Her father was a preacher
and disowned her when he found out she’d been pregnant. Told everyone she’d died in
a Dallas hospital.”

“For the love of God, I won’t ever be able to understand how people can preach Christianity
and then treat their own kin that way.” Lola commented.

“You haven’t heard the worst of it,” Jordan said, lowering her head before she recounted
Emily’s story. “Apparently, the reason she wrecked that night was because she was
speeding after being dumped unceremoniously by the one and only Beau Lincoln.”

“Holy crap! Are you saying she’d been planning revenge on Beau all these years?” Ray
asked.

“Yes. She wasn’t a popular teenager, and when he showered her with attention she fell
hard for him. After he got her to hand over her grandmother’s recipe for brownies
with her secret ingredient—alcohol—he dumped her and then publicly humiliated her.
She’s been carrying that rage around all this time, keeping up with Beau and Ranchero
for years. When she heard KTLK talking about the cook-off, she jumped on the bandwagon,
planning to find a way to kill Beau before the ship docked back in Miami.”

“Was she going to throw him overboard?” Lola asked.

“Years ago, Beau had mentioned to her that he was allergic to nuts, to explain why
he couldn’t eat any of her grandmother’s brownies that contained them. When she found
out he hadn’t even bothered to send in the cook-off questionnaire that would’ve listed
his allergy, she masterminded an ingenious plan. It would have been the perfect crime.”

“Until Stefano dropped dead before Beau had a chance to taste the nut-laced fish the
Italian chef had prepared,” Ray said, nodding. “It was clever, if I have to say so
myself.”

“I just can’t help feeling I let Emily down,” Jordan said. “If I had only—”

“Stop right there, young lady,” Ray interrupted. “You’re sitting here with two men
trained to look for clues who were also around Emily—three, if you count Goose. We
all missed the signs, so quit beating yourself up.”

“Speaking of Goose, I forgot to mention that Emily killed him, too,” Jordan said,
grateful for the love she felt from the people around the table.

“Wow! I didn’t see that one coming. All this time we thought Goose had skipped the
country.” Ray crinkled
his eyes in deep thought. “I wonder if that had anything to do with what we discovered
in his room.”

All three of them turned to him.

When he reached for his coffee and took a long sip, Lola slapped his shoulder playfully.
“You know how I hate to wait, darling. You can’t just drop a bomb like that on us,
then sit back and pretend like it was nothing. Tell us, please, or I’ll be forced
to beat it out of you.”

Ray grinned, obviously enjoying the attention. “Okay, the other day when we searched
Goose’s room, we found a tablet with a bunch of notes about a man named Kevin Watson
from Dallas. Seems he’s a nurse who works in a private hospital run by a plastic surgeon.
This doctor is world renowned for his work with children with cleft palate and facial
deformities so extensive no one else would touch them.”

Jordan’s eyes lit up. “Emily’s face was really messed up in the accident. She had
plastic surgery in Dallas.”

“What did the note say about this Watson guy, Ray?” Alex asked.

“Very little. Goose only listed the man’s name and telephone number. When we were
able to reach Watson on his cell phone, he was vacationing in Puerto Rico with his
wife. All he would tell us was that he thought he’d recognized a former patient of
his in a bar in Puerto Rico this week. Although the woman denied she’d ever seen him
before, Goose came back later and questioned him about it. He told him he’d mistaken
her for Anna Sloan, a former patient of his at the hospital.” He paused. “Oh good
God, he probably was talking about Emily.”

“And five bucks says this Watson dude was the one at Señor Frog’s in Puerto Rico.
You know, the drunk who
insisted he knew Emily?” Lola paused to allow that to sink in. “You walked him back
to his table. Remember, Ray?”