Murder for the Halibut (8 page)

Yeah, right.
The only one he wanted to get acquainted with was the one who had given him a peek
down her blouse earlier. How blatant could the man get?

“Isn’t it awful the way that poor man died?”

They all turned to see Beau’s wife wobble up the steps and sashay across the stage
in ridiculously high spiky heels.

Beau had the decency to take his eyes off Marsha’s
chest, although he did look a little annoyed at having his wife interrupt the fantasy
that must’ve been playing out in his head.

“Honey, some of us are meeting to discuss what’s going to happen next. Why don’t you
go back to the room and get into your comfy clothes? I’ll have the concierge send
up a bottle of their finest champagne.”

Charlese Lincoln narrowed her eyes as if she could see directly into her husband’s
mind. In all probability, this wasn’t her first rodeo with the man and his roving
ways. Chances were pretty good she’d been a player in his womanizing game before.
Jordan’s money was on Charlese having once been the one waiting to get cozy with Beau
while wife number one got sent to the room with booze.

After a moment, Charlese shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you later. Don’t stay up too late,
darling. You promised to get up early and lay by the pool with me.”

She stood on tiptoes to kiss him, then turned and walked off the stage. It was almost
comical the way every man present ogled her backside and perfectly shaped, seemingly
endless legs as she and her jersey mini dress headed toward the exit.

Even Michael.

Emily was the first to react. “After you guys pull your tongues back into your mouths,
I’ll see you all at the Starlight Lounge.”

Jordan stepped off the stage and found Rosie. Together they made their way out of
the empty theater.

“Did you see the way Beau came on to Marsha right in front of his wife? No way I’d
let my husband go drinking alone with a sex kitten like that.”

Rosie laughed. “Sweetie, think about it. Charlese put up with Beau’s crap the entire
time she was chasing him. Now it’s obvious she doesn’t give a rat’s patootie. More
likely, the man had his last around-the-world ride with her the night before she walked
down the aisle. My guess is that Mrs. Beau Lincoln is in love with his money, and
she’s just biding her time until she and her lawyer can sit across the table from
the man and negotiate a seven-figure alimony settlement.”

Jordan made a face. “Yuck. But when you put it that way, I’d say Charlese has earned
every penny she’ll get. Just imagining him in the bedroom is enough to nauseate me.”

“Ha! Maybe it’s time you changed that patch behind your ear.” Rosie opened the door
to the room and allowed Jordan to enter.

“Or maybe I should just be thankful the slimeball has decided to shower all his attention
on Marsha instead of me and leave it at that.”

“It’s what I’d do. There isn’t enough money in the world to convince me to do the
horizontal boogie with that jerk.”

Jordan giggled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve already checked, and there are
no Ho Hos on this ship. I can’t stop thinking about those Kahlúa brownies he offered
me.”

By the time
Jordan and Rosie arrived at the Starlight Lounge, Victor and Michael and the five
contestants were already there and had commandeered two large booths in the corner.
Most of the chefs were sitting at the one
closest to the bar and already had a round of drinks in front of them as they chatted
with Wayne. Victor waved Jordan and Rosie over to the other booth.

“There you are,” Emily said from the bar. “What are you two drinking?”

“Margaritas,” Rosie hollered before plopping down beside Michael. “Are you okay?”
she asked him. “I know how hard you and Wayne worked putting this together. Were you
and Stefano friends?”

He shook his head. “I met him for the first time on the fishing boat yesterday, and
personally, I thought he was a world-class jerk. So, no tears lost there. But I do
feel for Wayne and Emily, who invested a lot of time and money getting this contest
together, expecting to make a profit. As the owner of KTLK Wayne socked a lot of his
own personal savings into this venture.”

“How badly will this affect them?” Rosie asked.

“If enough people leave the ship in Puerto Rico, both of them will be out a huge chunk
of change.”

“Emily can afford it, but Wayne can’t,” Victor chimed in.

“No talking about unpleasant stuff,” Emily said as she lowered the tray she’d carried
from the bar onto the table. “Drinks first, and then we’ll discuss business.”

“Thanks, Ms. Thorpe.” Jordan reached for a margarita, which just happened to be her
all-time favorite adult drink.

“Call me Emily. Like I said before, I think you and I are going to be great friends.”

Jordan smiled back at her. Something about the woman made Jordan feel that, even though
she was rolling in dough and living the high life in New York, Emily was
just another small-town girl. And one Jordan was looking forward to getting to know
better.

She raised her glass to clink with Emily’s. “Here’s to new friendships.”

“And finding a way to get past tonight,” Michael added as they all toasted.

“I’ll make sure that happens,” Beau said, appearing out of nowhere, two drinks in
hand. “A couple bourbons on the rocks and a checkbook can make even the worst problem
go away.” He scanned both tables, then slid in beside Marsha.

Jordan got Rosie’s attention and rolled her eyes. She looked toward the table of chefs
to see if any of them had the same reaction as she did, but nobody seemed to notice
the clod had joined them.

Phillip and Luis were having an animated discussion across the table from Beau and
Marsha, and Thomas was busy showing Wayne something on his cell phone. From the way
Wayne was grinning, Jordan guessed it was pictures of Thomas’s newborn son. Casey
sat slumped, staring at the bar, trying to get the waitress’s attention to order another
round. She’d chugged her first drink while Beau and Marsha played touchy-feely, totally
ignoring her.

“So, what do y’all think about going ahead with the competition?” Wayne addressed
the entire group when everyone was on their second cocktail.

Well, not everyone. Beau was on his third double.

When no one commented, Wayne continued. “None of us could have predicted this would
happen, but we have to look at it as an unfortunate accident. I’m sorry Stefano’s
dead, but I say we let the show go on. A lot of people
paid good money for a chance to see the cook-off.” He raised his hand to acknowledge
the cheers from the contestants.

“I agree, Wayne,” Emily said. “As of right now, the cause of Stefano’s death, according
to the doctor’s best guess, was a heart attack. But even if it isn’t, we shouldn’t
allow it to change our plans. The cruise will continue, so why not the competition?”

“What about the fact that Stefano’s spice bottle was laced with ground nuts and the
other bottles weren’t?” asked Ray, who’d just walked up with Lola. The two squeezed
in between Michael and Rosie before Ray went on. “Don’t you think it’s a little fishy—pun
intended—that the dead man was the only one allergic to nuts?”

“That’s true, Ray, but there’s no proof that was anything other than a weird coincidence—an
unfortunate mistake that was made in the kitchen preparing the baskets,” Victor said.

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Ray shot back. “Matter of fact, neither does the
head of security on this ship. He contacted me about an hour ago and asked for my
help with the investigation.”

“Investigation?” Wayne put his drink down with a thud. “They’re actually treating
this like it wasn’t accidental?”

“Standard operating procedure when someone dies on the ship,” Ray explained. “I’m
meeting him tomorrow to look over the security tapes from the main kitchen.”

“So, are you saying, in light of this, we should cancel the cook-off?” Emily asked.

“Definitely not,” Ray replied. “If foul play was involved, the last thing we’d want
to do is change the normal routine. We need to see how this thing plays out.”

“Then I think we have our answer,” Wayne said, smiling as though he’d just won the
cook-off himself.

“Although I’m saddened that Stefano is dead, there’s really nothing more we can do.
Let’s at least say good-bye with a toast.” Victor lifted his glass, and everyone except
Casey and Thomas raised theirs in agreement.

“On that note, I’m going to head back to my room and catch some z’s. The baby woke
up three times before my alarm went off at six this morning.” Thomas stood and said
good night.

Jordan watched him walk out of the bar thinking she wouldn’t be far behind. Even though
she didn’t have a newborn to blame, she hadn’t slept well at the hotel the night before.
She’d use the restroom, then head to her room. She stood up, intending to head that
way.

“I think Lola and I are going to call it a night, too,” Ray said, helping his lady
out of the booth. “We’ll catch you in the morning.”

To Jordan’s surprise, the bathroom was huge compared to the small one in her and Rosie’s
stateroom where she could barely turn around without opening the door. She chose a
stall in the far corner and went in, suddenly realizing she was even more tired than
she’d previously thought. She had just taken a few deep breaths to keep from falling
asleep when she heard the bathroom door open and familiar voices talking in hushed
tones.

“We can’t let anyone know about Stefano. Because of your little trick on the boat
yesterday, everyone will automatically assume we had something to do with his death.”

“I couldn’t help myself. The jackass had his hand right over the hook trying to impress
you after you reeled in that striper.”

Jordan’s hand flew to her mouth to cover a gasp: it was Marsha and Casey talking about
what they’d done to Stefano. She blew out a silent breath, hoping they wouldn’t discover
she was in the back stall. Slowly moving closer to the door, she opened it just a
tad to hear more clearly.

“I know, but we have to be smart. I’m going to take Beau back to the room and start
working on him.” Marsha cleared her throat. “Can you stay away from the room for a
little while after we leave? Maybe have another drink or two? My guess is the man
is probably as much of a dud in the dark as he is in broad daylight. I’m pretty confident
this won’t take long.”

“Don’t forget, he’s a rich dud that we need right now if we’re going to pull this
off. One of us needs to win so we can split the cash.”

“I know. Come on. Let’s get back before he misses me. I swear, the man has three arms,
and they’re all over me.”

Jordan stood behind the slightly opened door a few more minutes after she heard them
leave. When she was sure she was alone, she exited the stall and washed her hands
before sneaking out the door and walking over to the bar for a drink, just in case
the two women saw her coming back to the table.

She couldn’t wait to tell the gang what she’d heard.

“You sure you can handle one more drink, sugar?” Rosie asked.

Jordan nodded. “Where is everyone?”

“They all wimped out on us,” Rosie said before yawning. “Actually, the idea of climbing
into my soft bed is sounding better by the minute. Drink up and take me home, child.
I’m too old for this crap.”

Ordinarily Jordan laughed at just about everything
Rosie said, but this time she wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t stop thinking
about the conversation she’d overheard in the bathroom and what it could mean. Had
Casey and Marsha teamed up to kill Stefano?

She glanced over at the table, noticing the two women and Beau were the only ones
left. They’d just ordered another round of drinks, and a steward had arrived with
a basket of fries and another of onion rings. As Jordan lifted her margarita for a
sip, an idea popped into her head.

After setting her nearly full drink on the table, she grabbed Rosie’s sleeve. “Come
with me,” she said before turning to the three remaining guests. “Well, we’re off
to bed, too. See you in the morning.”

Casey gave them a nod as she stuffed an onion ring into her mouth. The other two didn’t
even bother to look up.

As soon as she and Rosie were outside the bar, Jordan repeated what she’d heard in
the bathroom.

“Holy crap,” Rosie said. “Those two conniving be-otches. We need to tell Ray what
you heard.”

“No. He’s probably already sleeping, and we don’t know for sure what they really meant
about Stefano. It could be something insignificant.”

“Like what?”

“No clue, but maybe it was just Casey taking advantage of the opportunity to get Stefano
out of the competition.” Jordan stopped suddenly, and Rosie followed suit. “Um!”

“Uh-oh,” Rosie said suspiciously. “I know that look. Do I really want to know what’s
in that pretty little head of yours?”

Jordan narrowed her eyes. “I think we need to have a
peek in their room before we take this to Ray.” She checked her watch. “Come on. Their
room is right down the hall from ours. We’ve probably got a half hour before they
finish with all that food and head this way.”

“Brilliant idea, Einstein, but there’s one major problem. How are we going to get
in?”

Jordan grabbed Rosie’s arm and made a 180-degree turn. “Somehow, we have to get the
key.”