And now your nose is going to grow, Jordan thought, nearly blurting out that she’d been hiding in the closet the night Marsha tried to seduce Beau.
Better to keep that information to herself for the time being.
“Did you know that Emily Thorpe and Wayne Francis are trying to figure out a way to continue the competition?”
Marsha’s eyes lit up. “That’s fantastic news. Will Beau still be judging, or will it just be you and Mr. Christakis?”
“I don’t know,” Jordan answered honestly, noticing the hope fade from Marsha’s face.
The woman knew that without Beau Lincoln and the perfect scores he gave her, she probably didn’t stand a chance against Luis. Since the dessert round, Luis had easily become George’s favorite with his delicious Jumbleberry Delight.
Jordan still had no idea what a jumbleberry actually was but decided it was probably best to remain ignorant. Look what had happened with Marsha’s sweetbread.
“I’ve been really impressed with you, Jordan,” Marsha said. “I think you and I could be friends.”
What a suck-up!
Jordan decided to let that one slide. She’d ruin her plan to lure Marsha into talking if she confessed that hell would have to freeze over before the two of them ever became friends.
“So, Marsha, I heard Beau was on the short list of suspects in his wife’s killing. What do you think about that?”
“There’s no way he could have done it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Jordan asked, even though she knew the reason Marsha was so positive about it: Marsha thought she was Beau’s alibi. The sexy chef figured it was impossible for Beau to have killed his wife because he’d been busy getting it on with her yesterday at the time the real killer would have been preparing Charlese’s poisoned cocktail.
Of course, Marsha hadn’t been privy to the latest information about Charlese’s death. She couldn’t possibly know that the man she’d called a jerk moments ago might very well have slipped the cyanide into his own bottle of Scotch. He must have known his alcoholic wife wouldn’t be able to resist sneaking a drink or two while he played house with another woman.
“I was having a drink with him before the competition that night.”
Yeah, right! A drink!
Marsha narrowed her eyes. “So it wasn’t him even though he wanted to leave her.”
“He wanted out of the marriage?” Jordan held her breath for a second, waiting for the answer.
Marsha nodded. “But he told me that leaving her was out of the question.”
Jordan’s brain went on high alert. This conversation had taken an unexpected turn, and her inner amateur sleuth catapulted into overdrive. “Why?”
Marsha lowered her voice. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked from side to side before continuing. “Beau said Charlese tricked him into not signing the prenup his lawyers had drawn up before the wedding. Without it, the bitch stood to get half of everything he owned, including his Sinfully Sweet empire, if he divorced her. He wasn’t about to give all that up.”
Jordan bit her lower lip to keep from screaming. Marsha Davenport had just given her the ultimate motive for Beau to kill his own wife: money.
It was all Jordan could do to stay in the chair and finish the conversation. She wanted to jump up and run to Alex with what she’d just heard. Let him make fun of her overactive imagination now.
“I’ve had more than enough sun for today. I’m going to head back to my room,” Marsha said, standing up and gathering her towel and suntan lotion. “I hope to see you later at the competition if they can work that out. If not, I guess we’ll meet up at the Captain’s Gala tonight. Enjoy the rest of the day.”
Jordan’s mind raced as she watched Marsha walk away. The woman had just betrayed her own lover, who in all likelihood had killed his wife to avoid giving up half of his confections empire.
Now all Jordan had to do was prove it.
“You and I have a lot to talk about,” Alex said, nibbling on Jordan’s neck as she brushed her teeth.
“Don’t stop doing that or I’ll have to kill you,” she said, spitting out the toothpaste and wiping her mouth before turning to plant a sloppy wet kiss on his lips.
“Minty. I like that,” he said, licking his lips before moving her to the side and sliding in front of her.
She faked a scowl. “And here I thought my soft neck was irresistible to you, but all you really wanted was access to the mirror.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Your soft neck is irresistible, love, but a guy has to have a backup plan for bathroom time. I didn’t grow up with all that abuse from my three sisters without learning something useful.”
“Are you telling me that you kissed your sisters’ necks, you perv?”
“Hell, no! They were a pain in my butt growing up, always bossing me around and getting their laughs by making fun of me with their friends. I had to be inventive to get any bathroom time in our house.” He stopped to chuckle. “I remember once when one of my tricks scarred my sister Kate for life.”
Jordan inched her way in front again and ran a brush through her unruly red curls. “Tell me you didn’t do something juvenile like throwing cold water over the shower curtain.”
“Worse. One night I placed a rubber mouse inside the bathroom door and attached a string that I pulled underneath the door to the other side. Kate was usually the one who camped out in the bathroom in the mornings, and she was also the one who was the most squeamish about rodents and spiders of any kind. Right after she went into the bathroom, I made a squeaking noise hoping she’d turn around. Then I pulled the string. Needless to say I had the bathroom all to myself that morning. Kate still rags on me about it.”
Jordan moved out of his way again. “Okay, you win. You can have the mirror if you promise never to mention rats to me again.”
He patted her bottom before she got completely away from him. “Deal. Now let me get ready. I have a big evening ahead.”
The shaving cream on his face made him look really hot in some crazy kind of way, and Jordan had to resist going in for another kiss. Instead she walked over to the small closet where the outfit she’d picked for tonight’s party hung beside his clothes. She’d thought long and hard about wearing the “cursed” green blouse but then decided she was being superstitious. How could the blouse have anything to do with her date ending up dead that night? Besides, the emerald green of the blouse and her black flowing pants would contrast nicely with the dark gray suit he was wearing.
“I’m sorry this trip has turned out to be such a bummer for you. I know how much you were looking forward to the competition. And now I can’t even spend the kind of time with you that I’d planned,” he said wistfully.
“I know.” She pulled the blouse from the closet and slipped it on. “But having you in charge of the investigation makes me feel more secure, not that I think Ray couldn’t have handled it.”
“Technically, the only thing I’m in charge of is Charlese’s poisoning. Ray is working with Orlando on both the robbery and Goose’s disappearance, and Stefano’s death is officially labeled as accidental. I’m sure the Carnation Queen will end up paying through the nose to Stefano’s family, but the authorities have closed the book on it.”
“I still have my doubts about his death being accidental,” Jordan said, stepping into the pants and tucking her blouse in at the waist. “But I can’t prove anything. Casey and Marsha—” She inhaled sharply, reaching for the wide black belt she’d brought. “I almost forgot to tell you what Marsha told me by the pool earlier today.”
“What were you doing talking to Marsha? I thought you said the two of you weren’t friends.”
“We aren’t—or least I didn’t think we were until she started brownnosing me. She’s setting me up to give her a good score in case the competition is back on.”
“That’s pretty much a dead horse. No way they can work it out now.”
“You’re right. I’m sure Emily and Wayne did their best. Anyway, Marsha said Beau told her that his wife had tricked him into tearing up their prenuptial agreement. Said he would have had to hand over half of his hefty assets if he divorced her.”
Alex cocked his head around the bathroom door, his face now clean shaven and looking even hotter than before. “Is that right? I have the guys in Miami checking to see if there are any high-dollar life insurance policies on Charlese. I’ll put a bug in their ear about this, too. It does make for one helluva motive, especially since he was fooling around with Marsha.”
“Oh, so now you believe me about that?”
He whistled when he saw her in the outfit. “Who can argue with messy hair?” He winked and then shut the door just as she shot him a look.
CHAPTER 21
The huge theater was already buzzing with activity when Jordan and Alex walked in. Looking up, Jordan was intrigued by the way the overhead lights cast a soft glow over the crowd. Dressed in everything from long flowing gowns to casual cocktail dresses, the women complimented the men in their suits and tuxedoes. Usually on a seven-day cruise, there was a Captain’s Gala the first few days at sea and then again on the last day. Because of the cook-off, tonight’s party was the only one, and the passengers had come out in droves.
Jordan scanned the dimly lit room for the rest of the gang and finally spied Rosie waving from a large circular table behind the theater seats. She waved back just as a handsome young waiter approached with a tray of appetizers.
She eyed the hors d’oeuvres suspiciously. They looked tame enough, but she’d thought the exact same thing about Marsha’s sweetbread. She could hear her mother saying, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” She wasn’t about to go down that road again.
“What are these?”
“Tomato bruschetta.”
“What’s in them?”
“Roasted red tomatoes with mozzarella and a touch of garlic and basil.” He pushed the half-empty tray toward her. “Try one. They’re excellent.”
When she hesitated, Alex reached in for one, making a big production of popping it into his mouth. “It’s delicious, Jordan. Really.” He took another one and held it up to her lips. “If you absolutely hate it, I’ll finish it for you, I promise.”
She decided there was no use arguing since the man could talk her into anything. She took a small bite and slowly chewed it while both Alex and the waiter patiently watched.
“You’re lucky that was good,” she teased, reaching for another one and rewarding the waiter with a huge smile before locking her free arm with Alex’s. “Now, come on. Rosie’s about to kill someone the way she’s waving her arms for us to get over there.”
They weaved their way through the crowd to the table. After giving Rosie a quick kiss, Jordan blew one to Victor, Michael, and Ray, and whistled. “Wow! You guys clean up nicely. I had no idea you all were this handsome.”
“Right back atcha, sweet pea,” Ray said, bending over to kiss her forehead. “Alex, you look good, too.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I don’t have to do this more than once or twice a year, though,” Alex said, stepping aside so Jordan could sit down. “I’ll take a pair of faded jeans and a cowboy shirt any day.”
“I heard that,” Ray said, scooting over so Jordan could be next to Lola, who was decked out in a gorgeous turquoise blue caftan.
“You’re one hot mama,” Jordan said, squeezing the older woman’s hand. “Have we missed anything?”
“Just a whole bunch of appetizers,” Rosie answered. “For lunch I made that stir-fry recipe that I got from the Thai couple who just moved in above my apartment. You know, the one you posted in your column a few weeks back and called Pollo Fino Revuelto? Best chicken stir-fry I’ve ever tasted. I made a complete pig of myself before we ran out of it. I’m still so stuffed, I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.” She held up her cocktail glass. “Chocolate martinis are a whole different story, though.”
“Jordan, what would you like to drink?” Alex asked when the waiter stopped to take their order.
She was so busy noticing how his dark gray suit brought out the deep blue of his eyes, she didn’t even hear him. The man was definitely a gorgeous specimen, and tonight he was all hers. She planned on making the best of their last night on the ship, and God help anyone who interfered. She was imagining something incredibly romantic like a late-night stroll on deck followed by just the two of them in a hot tub.
“Jordan? Your drink?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll have a frozen margarita.”
Alex studied her with a cool, appraising look. “What was going on in that pretty little head of yours? You were a million miles away just then.”
She pinched his cheek playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His eyes flickered with mischief. “Did it involve me?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see. Now go find me a couple of those bruschetta things. Unlike Rosie, I’m starving.”
Jordan looked around the table at her friends while she waited for Alex to return with the appetizers. Seeing everyone all dressed up brought back memories of her childhood in Amarillo and playing dress-up with her mother’s old gowns. Having only brothers, she’d often wished for a sister, and now she had two of the best ever in Rosie and Lola. She loved these people like family.
Just as Alex returned, the captain walked onto the makeshift stage and the crowd noise died down. Caught up in the gala atmosphere, it was easy to forget about the tragedy the night before. But seeing the head of the ship standing on the makeshift stage with the beautiful red curtain shimmering in the background brought it all back. It was a stark reminder that although they were all celebrating the last day of the cruise with cocktails and great food, there was a crime scene behind that curtain.
Ever since this afternoon when Michael had relayed the news that the cooking competition was definitely called off, Jordan had been especially anxious to talk to Emily. But she was nowhere to be found and hadn’t returned the many messages Jordan had left on her phone. Although the contestants were bound to be disappointed because there would be no winner now, Luis and Phillip had gotten the good news that George Christakis was offering them each an entry-level job at his restaurant in New York. Jordan wondered if Casey and Marsha had heard that announcement yet—and if they had, was glad not to have been there when they got the news.
“Has anyone talked to Emily today?” Rosie asked, looking stunning in a black cocktail dress, her blond hair pulled back into a French twist.
When no one spoke up, Michael shook his head. “She was with Wayne earlier, but I haven’t seen her since. Are you worried about her?”
“I am,” Jordan said, turning back to the makeshift stage. She was trying to get her mind off Emily and concentrate on the ship’s various department heads, who were currently being introduced.
But it was a losing battle.
When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she whispered to Alex, “Would you mind if I left you here with the gang for a few minutes? I want to check on Emily.”
“Of course not. I know how worried you are about her. Frankly, I am, too.” He checked his watch. “I’m waiting on a report from Miami. If it comes in, Orlando is going to call to let me know. I may have to run down to the security office for a few minutes, anyhow. Go take care of your friend. If either of us gets tied up, we’ll meet at dinner in an hour. Okay?”
She kissed the top of his nose before explaining to the others where she was going. Walking out of the theater, she couldn’t shake an overwhelming sense of doom and gloom. Something was definitely wrong with Emily, and tonight she might need a friend more than ever. Jordan intended to be there for her, even if it meant giving up precious moments with Alex.
Standing outside Emily’s cabin, she debated telling her she knew about her horrible teenage years. Sometimes, walls could be broken only when a person shared a horrible experience like that. Jordan prayed that
would be the case with Emily, if she decided to reveal what George had confided in her.
After knocking several times, Jordan was about to walk away when Emily opened the door.
“Hey, Jordan. Did you need something?”
Jordan’s mouth dropped open when she saw her friend. She’d imagined Emily holed up in her room in pajamas, isolating herself from the world because of whatever had been bothering her for the past few days. That’s not the impression she got as she stared at the woman. Dressed in an off-the-shoulder, pale pink cocktail dress with matching stilettos, Emily was definitely not planning to isolate herself anytime soon.
Jordan put her arms around her, noticing the way Emily stiffened at the contact. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I was concerned about you.”
Emily pushed a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. “No need to worry. I’m fine.”
When she didn’t invite her in, Jordan asked, “Are you on your way to the party? If so, I’ll walk with you.”
Emily looked surprised by the question. “I’m not going.”
Determined to help her friend, Jordan waltzed past her, uninvited. The first thing she noticed was the difference between Emily’s cabin and her own. Nearly double the size, it had a sliding glass door that opened onto a private patio.
“Holy cannoli! Guess it pays to know someone. This room is gorgeous.”
Emily glanced down at her watch. “If the only reason you came by was to check on me, you can see that I’m fine. I’ll try to meet up with all of you at dinner.” Again, she peeked at her watch.
“Are you waiting on someone?”
“No,” she answered quickly, but her tone said differently. “There seems to be another problem in New York that my incompetent assistant can’t work out. I swear I’m going to fire her the minute I get back home. Anyway, I need to finish up here.”
“Dressed like that?” Jordan was getting weird vibes from her friend. Emily was definitely a little nervous about something, judging by the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes darting to the door at the slightest sound.
Murder for the Halibut Page 19
