“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.”
CHAPTER 6
As soon as Jordan and Rosie reentered the bar, the waitress approached them to say the lounge would be closing in fifteen minutes and they’d already missed last call. After assuring her they would only be a few minutes, Jordan made eye contact with Rosie and cocked her head in the direction of the far corner.
Rosie started that way, and Jordan followed. Beau and Marsha were so caught up in an animated conversation, they didn’t even look up until the two had plopped down in the empty chairs across from them. Casey was asleep with her head on the table and a half-empty drink in front of her. An earth-shattering snore caused her to jerk awake, but she quickly returned to whatever dream she was having.
Rosie reached for a cold French fry from the nearly empty basket. “So, it looks like you two are gonna be here for a while, right?” She pointed to the four full drinks in front of them.
Marsha laughed. “We’ve been talking about the cooking industry, and we lost track of time. Beau thought we needed reinforcements before they cut us off.”
Cooking industry, my butt! “It looks like you need black coffee more than reinforcements,” Jordan said, scanning the table for Marsha’s or Casey’s purse.
Initially disappointed when she didn’t see one, she decided the women either hadn’t brought their purses with them or had them on their laps. Either scenario was a dead end for her plan to learn more about the conversation she’d overheard in the restroom earlier. Then Jordan noticed Casey was using her black clutch as a pillow. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she scolded herself for thinking the hunt for clues would be easy.
“What brought you two back?” asked Beau, his words slurring and his glassy eyes obviously struggling to focus.
“No reason. We—”
“We wanted one last drink,” Rosie interrupted. “Unfortunately, we’re a little too late.”
“Here,” Beau said, sliding Casey’s drink toward Rosie. “I don’t think she’ll miss it, do you?”
Casey chose that moment to lift her head and give them a drunken grin. It gave Jordan just enough time to edge the clutch out and shove a few wadded-up linen napkins in its place before the inebriated woman dropped her head back to the table.
“I was afraid the clasp might hurt her face,” she explained when both Beau and Marsha shot her a questioning look.
Beau grinned before chugging the rest of his drink. “She wouldn’t even notice. She’s not feeling any pain right now. Probably won’t until morning when that headache hits like a mother.”
Nothing like the proverbial pot calling the kettle black.
Rosie cleared her throat, and Jordan looked up in time to see her point to Casey’s purse. Get the key, she mouthed.
“So, Beau, tell me about your chocolate treats. I sure would kill to have one right now,” Rosie said, in an obvious effort to distract the couple.
“Did you know Sinfully Sweet hit the international market this year?” He stretched across the table and slid one of Marsha’s full drinks toward Rosie, even though she hadn’t yet touched the cocktail he’d offered just a moment ago.
“Thank you. And yes, I did know the company was doing great. It was a brilliant move, but then again, I’m not surprised a smart, savvy guy like you pulled it off.” She gave him one of her sultry looks, designed to bedazzle an unsuspecting male, while she lied through her teeth.
Sheesh! Rosie didn’t have to lay it on that thick, Jordan thought as she maneuvered Casey’s purse off the table and into her lap without detection. She unclasped the small black clutch and immediately found the keycard in a side pocket, along with a wrapped condom.
Pulling her hand out of the purse as if she had touched a lit match, Jordan wrinkled her nose. A condom? Casey had obviously started out the evening with big plans before drinking herself into a stupor.
But big plans with whom? Or maybe it was only a case of the frumpy chef dipping into her old Girl Scout training and showing up prepared just in case she got lucky.
Jordan cleared her throat, and Rosie glanced her way. When Jordan nodded, the older woman shoved the drink back toward Marsha. “As much as I love talking to you two, I’d better mosey on up to my room and hit the sack. I just remembered I have to get up really early to cook tomorrow. Thanks, anyway.” She motioned to Jordan. “Ready?”
They said their good-byes and headed out the door. Once they were in the hallway, they quickened their pace, nearly sprinting by the time they approached the elevator. Neither spoke during the ride down three levels to the deck where Marsha and Casey shared a room. Only after she’d pushed the stolen key into the lock and they’d entered did Jordan finally feel safe enough to breathe normally.
She’d never done anything like this before—unless you counted the time when she and her best girlfriend snuck into the nun’s private kitchen back at Saint Anthony’s and raided the refrigerator. Although she and her partner in crime hadn’t been caught and had ended up with a fantastic plate of snickerdoodles, she knew in her heart she’d have to pay the price at the pearly gates over those cookies. Unfortunately, just like so many years before, Jordan’s inner voice was screaming at her to get out before it was too late.
She wondered if the Gatekeeper was watching now.
“We’ve only got about ten minutes,” Rosie said, bringing her back to the task at hand.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll loo
k through all the stuff on the table, and you rummage through the drawers.”
Rosie nodded in agreement and moved directly to the dresser. She sat on the bed and opened the first drawer. Before Jordan even made it to the table, she spied the box labeled with the Sinfully Sweet logo. Unable to resist, she took off the lid and let out a squeal at the site of huge chocolate brownies, each individually wrapped.
“Shh,” Rosie cautioned.
“Sorry. Chocolate messes with my brain.” She turned her attention back to the goodies. “So, Little Miss Hope-you-like-my-salmon Marsha did get the Kahlúa brownies, after all,” she said, more to herself than to Rosie. “Wonder what she had to promise to get them.”
“We don’t have time for that, Jordan. Hurry,” Rosie admonished.
Who doesn’t have time for chocolate? Jordan thought as she unwrapped one of the brownies and shoved half of it into her mouth. The sensation she got from the Kahlúa and chocolate flavors was enough to send her over the edge.
“Jordan, hurry up.”
Rosie’s impatient voice caused her to jump, and she quickly popped the other half of the brownie into her mouth before opening the top file on the table. The file contained a lot of recipes but nothing that would implicate either Marsha or Casey in any wrongdoing in Stefano’s death—assuming there even was a wrongdoing.
“Sweet Jesus!”
Jordan stopped chewing and spun toward Rosie, who was now holding up a small bottle and grinning like she’d just opened the right door on Let’s Make a Deal.
“What is that?”
“You’re not going to believe it, but I think it might be the smoking gun.”
Jordan jumped up and ran over, reaching for the bottle. It was a small jar of cocktail peanuts. Before she had a chance to comment, she heard the unmistakable sound of voices trickling in from the hallway. It took only a second to recognize Marsha’s sexy giggle. Jordan would bet money there was a follow-up hair flip and decided she could probably learn a thing or two about flirting from the petite chef.
The voices stopped momentarily, and Jordan stood perfectly still, holding her breath. Until she heard the click of the door as it opened.
Murder for the Halibut Page 6
