Murder for the Halibut

by Liz Lipperman

  “Then how did Stefano end up with them?” Jordan asked.

  “I specifically asked everyone involved with the competition if they had any food allergies. The idiot kept his a secret. When I found out Beau hadn’t even bothered to return the questionnaire, I decided it was the perfect way to kill him without casting any suspicion on myself.”

  “So you just randomly put the ground nuts in Stefano’s basket?”

  “I had no idea whose basket they ended up in that day, but it didn’t matter. I knew Beau would taste all the food, and my mission would be accomplished.” She smirked. “You have to admit, Jordan, it would’ve been the perfect murder.”

  The loud knock at the door startled all of them, and Jordan screamed.

  “Emily, open up. It’s Alex Moreland. I need to talk to you.”

  “She’s got a gun, Alex,” Jordan yelled before Emily turned it on her.

  “I didn’t want to involve you in all this, Jordan. You’re the only person besides George who has ever been kind to me without wanting something in return.”

  Alex’s voice screaming outside the door for the purser was enough to throw Emily over the edge. Her eyes widened, and she used her free hand to jerk Beau to his feet.

  “Move,” she commanded, prodding him in the back with the weapon. “Jordan, get over here. I need your help.”

  Emily opened the door and shoved Beau out to the patio. When his body was pressed against the railing, she pointed to his feet.

  “Grab on and help me lift him over the side.”

  When Jordan was slow to react, she screamed, “Hurry before your boyfriend breaks in and I have to kill him, too.”

  Without thinking of the consequences, Jordan lunged for the gun, but she had grossly underestimated Emily’s strength, which, as it turned out, was considerable.

  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.

  CHAPTER 23

  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?”

  Before Ray could respond, Jordan gasped. “Now I get it. That’s why Emily killed him. She said Goose came to her room demanding a million dollars. He must’ve used the info he got from this nurse to research Anna. Somehow he made the connection between Anna and Emily, then threatened to expose her if she didn’t pay up.”

  “Good Lord! What that man wouldn’t do for money,” Lola exclaimed before adding, “I guess he felt like he was drowning in debt trying to keep his wife in that nice facility.”

  “That and keeping the thugs from roughing him up or worse when he got back to Miami,” Alex said.

  Ray’s eyebrow arched. “What do you mean?”

  “The report from Miami mentioned Jerry Goosman took quite a beating before this trip.”

  “We know,” Lola interrupted. “He intervened when some kid was getting the snot kicked out of him. Goose ended up taking a few hits himself.”

  “That’s what he told the police in the emergency room that night, but they didn’t buy it. Number one, there were no reports of a banged-up kid in any of the local hospitals, and two, word on the street was that Goose was into a vicious loan shark for a lot of money. The cops think the beating was a reminder not to be late on the payment.”

  “It’s all starting to make sense now,” Ray said.

  Alex narrowed his eyes in deep thought. “I’m wondering how Goose knew to contact Watson at all.”

  “I saw him go back into
the bar after we all left that day,” Jordan said. “At the time I thought he was just going to hook up with that woman who stopped him on the way out and seemed to know him more intimately than just as a business partner.”

  “You’ve probably just solved the mystery of how and why Goose was killed,” Alex said. “Since Beau is dead, I guess we can close the books on Charlese Lincoln’s death, too. He was the only one who stood to gain anything with her out of the picture.”

  “Emily killed her,” Jordan blurted. “Not deliberately, though. It was another failed attempt to get to Beau.”

  “How in the hell did she manage to do that?” Ray asked before shaking his head. “I’m beginning to think either Emily Thorpe was the smartest woman alive, or I need to bone up on my criminal investigation skills.”

  “You and me both, Ray.” Alex laughed before turning back to Jordan. “This is getting good. Tell us how she pulled that one off.”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure exactly how she did it, but she mentioned she’d coated a cocktail glass with a sedative before she handed Goose a drink that night. When he got suspicious, she poured herself a glass from the same bottle, making him think there wasn’t anything harmful in the whiskey. A fatal mistake on his part since she was able to lead him to her balcony before he totally passed out.”

  “But how could she have done that with Beau’s drink? The waiter said he personally delivered it to Beau and Charlese that night,” Lola asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jordan said, hitching one shoulder. “Didn’t the waiter say Emily was in the kitchen when Beau ordered the drinks? My guess is she found an opportunity to lace the inside of the cocktail glass with cyanide, thinking Charlese would be safe because she’d drink from the champagne glass.”

  “Sounds plausible,” Ray said. “What Emily had no way of knowing is that Beau would refuse the drink—”

  “Probably,” Jordan interrupted, “because he was hot to trot to get to Marsha’s room for a quickie.”