Murder for the Halibut

by Liz Lipperman

  The silence that followed proved no one had a clue how to respond.

  Finally, Lola reached across the table and covered Goose’s hand with hers. “I’m so sorry. I took care of my mother while she withered away from Alzheimer’s. It’s not an easy thing to watch.”

  Goose cleared his throat, and when he looked up, the heartbreak was all over his face. “It’s been a year now since she was able to recognize me. I visit her every Saturday when the ship docks in Miami, but she has no idea who I am.” He paused. “Calls me Daddy.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rosie echoed Lola’s sentiments. “Where is your wife?”

  Goose sniffed. “At first she was in a nursing home that accepted our insurance, but that was a nightmare. They put her in a ward with several other unfortunate souls who screamed half the night. Mary Alice still had moments of lucidity back then, and she begged me to take her home.”

  “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.”

  CHAPTER 8

  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 pulle
d 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.

  Hearing Victor call out to them, Thomas turned to face the pool. Dressed in tight-fitting trunks that only emphasized his overlapping belly, the man froze when he recognized Victor and the others.

  “What’s Casey Washington doing getting up close and personal with Thomas Collingsworth? Isn’t he married?” Emily asked.

  Not only was Collingsworth married, his wife had just had their first child. He’d even missed the fishing trip so he could stay in Texas to be with her.

  How much sleazier could he get?

  Guess he’d decided if the cat’s away…

  Jordan continued to stare, her mind racing with the implications. Something was clearly going on between Casey and Thomas Collingsworth, but was it just an affair? Could the cheating jerk also be involved in whatever had triggered Casey and Marsha’s trip to the kitchen before the competition?

  She gasped, suddenly remembering that Thomas Collingsworth was the only one who had known about Stefano’s allergy to peanuts.

  Yet he hadn’t said a word last night when Stefano was fighting for his life and taking his last breath.

  CHAPTER 9

  The theater was already near standing-room-only capacity when Jordan and Rosie walked in. There must have been close to three thousand people in attendance, anxiously awaiting the first round of the cook-off competition. On stage, a five-man band had the crowd on its feet and clapping in time to “Margaritaville,” sung by a guy Jordan recognized as the cute Croatian waiter from Rosie’s restaurant. She thought about what she’d do if her job required multitasking like the ship’s crew, but she came up empty. Carrying a tune was not one of her talents and was restricted to the shower and an occasional karaoke bar. And even then only after everyone was well on their way to a good buzz.

  Now, if they needed a really good quarterback…

  “Over here,” Victor called from the front row.

  Both Jordan and Rosie scrambled over to where Victor and Lola had saved every seat on the front row of the section to the right of the stage. Ray and his new best friend, Goose, arrived at the same time as the women and settled next to Lola.

  “So what are they cooking tonight?” Ray asked.

  “Appetizers,” Jordan responded, wrinkling her nose. “And I hav
e a pretty good hunch it won’t be jalapeño poppers or a bloomin’ onion. I hope I can get through tonight without making a complete idiot of myself.”

  Rosie patted her arm before ungracefully plopping into the seat next to Victor. “Here’s what to do, honey. Make sure you keep the napkin on your lap at all times. Take the smallest bite you can get away with and slide it to the side of your mouth by your molars. Then smile sweetly and give it a fake chew. When no one is looking, wipe your mouth and spit it out.”

  Jordan sighed. “But how can I judge anything if I do that?”

  “Oh, please,” Victor interjected. “Do you really think anybody’s counting on your gourmet critique? Or Beau’s, for that matter?” He shook his head. “Seriously? A fudge maker and a clueless cook with her own column?”

  Rosie playfully slapped his arm. “You have such a way with words, you moron.” She studied Jordan’s face, concern in her eyes.

  But Jordan was giggling. She loved Victor and his filterless opinions.

  “I was only trying to make her feel better,” he said defensively. “With the legendary George Christakis up there tasting the food, nobody gives a hoot about anyone else’s opinion. If Georgie says it’s good, it’s good.” He pointed at the steps where the world-renowned chef was making his way onto the stage. “He’s like the Brett Favre of gourmet cooking—even makes an appearance on The Biggest Loser every season.”

  “I didn’t know you watched that show, Victor,” Lola said, leaning around him to wave to Jordan and Rosie. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  Victor’s eyes lit up. “I love that show, although Michael says everyone could lose weight if the only thing they did all day was exercise and eat ground turkey.”

  “He’s right,” Lola replied. “But it’s more than that. The contestants work through their self-esteem issues, and they learn how to make healthier choices.”