Murder for the Halibut Read online

  Praise for

  THE CLUELESS COOK MYSTERIES

  “Highly entertaining and filled with unique and lovable characters…A series to watch. The first book was very enjoyable with a good mystery. Beef Stolen-Off is even better.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “An entertaining, wickedly hilarious and thoroughly addictive debut. Supported by excellent dialogue, a skillfully plotted mystery, and an assortment of well-drawn characters that make for a spectacular reading experience.”

  —Diane Morasco, Seattle Post-Intelligencer

  “A fast-paced mystery that moves in unexpected directions.”

  —Mystery Scene Magazine

  “[An] engaging series debut. Jordan’s personality and supporting cast suggest a winning season ahead.”

  —Library Journal

  “Liz Lipperman delivers a sparkling new cozy star! Readers will cheer for Jordan, a Clueless Cook with charm and spunk in a mystery that really sizzles.”

  —Cleo Coyle, national bestselling

  author of the Coffeehouse Mysteries “Jordan McAllister heads up an appealing cast of characters in the fun new Clueless Cook series from Liz Lipperman…Plot twists, action, and lots of scrumptious food make this a mystery not to be missed!”

  —Misa Ramirez, author of the Lola Cruz Mysteries “A culinary critic mystery with good taste, charming characters, and plenty of delicious twists. It’s a recipe for a truly enjoyable story.”

  —Linda O. Johnston, author of the Pet Rescue Mysteries

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Liz Lipperman

  LIVER LET DIE

  BEEF STOLEN-OFF

  MURDER FOR THE HALIBUT

  MURDER FOR

  THE HALIBUT

  Liz Lipperman

  BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books, Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North 2193, South Africa • Penguin China, B7 Jaiming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North, Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed

  exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy

  needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for

  any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  MURDER FOR THE HALIBUT

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / January 2013

  Copyright © 2012 by Elizabeth R. Lipperman.

  Cover illustration by Ben Perini.

  Cover design by Sarah Oberrender.

  Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61864-6

  BERKLEY®PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON

  To my mother, Annie Roth,

  who taught me how to love and laugh

  and not take myself too seriously.

  This one goes out to her and anyone else

  who has suffered through or watched a loved one

  slip away every day from Alzheimer’s.

  I’m praying for a cure.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, there are many people to thank. First and foremost is my tireless agent, Christine Witthohn, whose friendship and guidance I truly cherish. There is no way I could do this without her.

  And then there is my editor, Faith Black, who never fails to encourage me even when I sometimes get off track. I love her sense of humor and her enthusiasm for my stories.

  And I can’t forget the talented people behind the scenes at Berkley Prime Crime, especially Sarah Oberrender who designed my awesome cover, Ben Perini who illustrated it, and Caroline Duffy, copyeditor extraordinaire who always manages to amaze me.

  I’ve said it before that although writing is a solitary process, it can’t be done without a huge support system, and I have been blessed with a good one. First, there are my siblings, Jack, Don, Mary Ann, Dorothy, and Lilly as well as my Bunko pals, Tami, Judy, Marilyn, Nancy, Linda, Jane, Anna, Barbara, and Vaneesa. Kudos to my writing friends, some I’ve know for a very long time, in RWA MWA, DARA, SinC, and the Book Cents gang, and the GIAMers. Special thanks to my fellow Plotting Princesses who helped me weave this mystery and are some of my biggest cheerleaders.

  I couldn’t end this without thanking the four wonderful Celebrity Cruise chefs who sat around a table at the coffee shop onboard one day in full chef gear, white hat and all, and helped me plot this murder. Can you imagine the looks on the other passengers’ faces that day as they listened to us discuss how to kill someone with food? Mega thanks to Chef Maciek Kucharewic who actually came up with the halibut recipe using the killer ingredient.

  Lastly, I can’t even come close to expressing my gratitude to my wonderful husband and my kids and grandkids who gave up time with me so that I could follow my dream. I love you all.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

&nb
sp; Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Recipes

  CHAPTER 1

  Whose harebrained idea was this, anyway?

  Feeling her stomach lurch when the deepwater charter boat hit a strong wave, Jordan McAllister prayed the patch behind her ear was all it was cracked up to be. Inhaling those two ham and cheese croissants about an hour before had been a big mistake. Things would get ugly in a hurry if the meal decided to suddenly reappear.

  “You doing okay, Jordan?” Michael Cafferty slid in beside her at the railing. “You’re looking a little green.”

  She swallowed hard and pointed to the patch. “Rosie insisted I get a prescription for these suckers before I left for Miami.” She swallowed again when the boat slammed into another huge wave. “I’m waiting for the magic drug to kick in.”

  “Speaking of Rosie, did she and the others get on the flight okay? I’ve been so busy overseeing this fishing trip I forgot to call Victor. He’s going to pitch a fit.”

  “I talked to her before we left the hotel this morning for Key West. They were at DFW Airport ready to board their flight. If all goes well, they’ll be waiting for us in Miami when we get back to shore. You can make nice to Victor over drinks tonight.” She grinned. It had only been a day since she’d seen her friends, and she already missed them, especially her next-door-neighbor Victor Rodriguez, Michael’s significant other.

  Jordan took a deep breath as the battle raged between her stomach and the motion of the boat. “I should’ve never let you talk me into this, Michael. What was I thinking?”

  “What? The fishing trip or the whole contest-judging thing?”

  “Both.” Jordan’s hand covered her mouth as a wave of nausea pulsed through her. When it finally passed, she continued. “First of all, I’ll probably be hanging over this rail all day long. As for the judging, everyone knows I hate fancy food. What made me think I could pull off a gig judging a bunch of gourmet chefs? Geez, Michael, if I make it past the whole tasting thing without gagging, it will be a miracle. They’ll laugh me right off the freakin’ cruise ship.”

  When Michael had first suggested she sign on as the culinary expert for the first ever Caribbean Cook-Off, she should have run away as fast as she could. KTLK, the local radio station in Ranchero where he had his own talk show, was the primary sponsor of the contest. Six handpicked chefs from all over Texas would be showing off their cooking skills as they competed for the grand prize: a contract with one of the biggest talent agencies in New York to star in a national ad campaign for a giant food conglomerate. They’d be making original concoctions using only specified ingredients. The trouble was, to judge the finished product, Jordan would have to eat it—and she hated gourmet food.

  She shook her head. “My newfound fame as culinary reporter for the Globe will go right out the window, and I’ll be back to writing the personals again.”

  “Quit worrying. You’ll do fine,” Michael said before another wave hit, shoving them both into the corner. He turned and hollered to the crusty-looking man at the controls, “How much longer before we actually get to fish?”

  “Another ten minutes and we’ll throw out the anchor,” the old man hollered back. “Why? We got a puker?”

  “No,” Jordan said, a little too quickly, resisting the urge to put her hand over her mouth again. Like that’s gonna keep me from hurling. “A tad queasy, that’s all.”

  “Have a cold one, lady.” The captain grinned, showing off his gold front tooth. “You’d be surprised at how much that helps.”

  She’d be surprised, all right. Bending farther over the railing just in case her worst nightmare came true, Jordan took two quick breaths. She’d grown up fishing with her dad and four brothers, but that had been Lake Amarillo and not the Gulf of Mexico. The only big waves there had come from the wake of some smart-ass kid on a Jet Ski brave enough to endure the wrath of the McAllister clan. Usually, a ceremonial display of six extended middle fingers would offer a “salute” as the offending watercraft passed.

  “Michael, come here,” a voice commanded from the other end of the boat.

  “Oops. That’s my boss calling. Hang in there, Jordan. I’ll check back in a bit to make sure you’re okay.”

  Since the cooking competition was the brainchild of his boss, Michael had put in many hours organizing it. He’d even stayed overnight at the radio station on several occasions after hosting his show. This was too important to let a little thing like her queasy stomach sidetrack him.

  She gave him a gentle nudge. “Go. This is your baby. I’m already starting to feel a little better.”

  Watching him walk away, Jordan blew out another slow breath before focusing on the water and the disappearing speck, aka Key West, behind them. What was she thinking taking on this assignment as if she had a clue what she was doing? If her boss at the newspaper knew her tastes leaned toward takeout and fried bologna, she was pretty sure she’d no longer be the Globe’s culinary expert with her own byline.

  And she was positive he wouldn’t have agreed to send her on this cruise to judge food prepared with God-only-knew-what ingredients. Unless her seafood was battered and came with fries, she wanted nothing to do with it.

  Feeling like a fraud, she tried to convince herself she wouldn’t be a complete ditz, and then decided, so what if she was? Tomorrow, she and her friends would board the Carnation Queen and cruise for seven days around the Caribbean. A week of fun in the sun, island tours, and frozen margaritas.

  And everything was gratis. All she had to do was judge one stupid cooking competition. How hard could that be?

  She gulped, remembering again how totally unqualified she was for the culinary gig. On her first assignment at the Globe, she’d critiqued a fancy steak restaurant and ended up shoving foie gras into her purse. Unable to make herself take one bite, she’d filled up on sourdough bread and Chocolate Decadence Cake instead.

  So how did a tomboy from West Texas who talked sports better than most men end up as a celebrity judge for six up-and-coming chefs on a cruise ship? She couldn’t even cook macaroni and cheese from a box—at least not an edible version.

  Asking her to judge fancy food was like soliciting a nun’s advice on the best sexual positions.

  Sheesh!

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she nearly jumped overboard. Turning, she came nose to nose with one of the contestants she’d noticed when they’d boarded the Sea Shark in Key West. Even in his playing-on-the-water clothes, Stefano Mancini had been hard to miss, looking more like an Italian playboy than a guy ready to spend all day fishing under the hot Florida sun. She remembered the frowning faces of a few of the other contestants when Stefano had walked aboard the Sea Shark. She wondered what that was about. Jealousy, maybe?

  With a smile that could only be interpreted as a come-on, the budding chef slipped both arms around her from behind and grabbed on to the railing, basically imprisoning her.

  And she’d thought being seasick was the worst thing that would happen to her today.

  Close enough to give her a whiff of his citrusy cologne, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a reefer. Arching one eyebrow and grinning like a cat that’d cornered a mouse, he showed her the rolled cigarette. After he dropped it back into his pocket, he slid his hand slowly down her arm with a feathery touch. Totally involuntarily, the fine hairs below her elbow stood at attention.

  When he latched on to the railing again, he whispered into her ear, causing another flurry of goose bumps. “Let’s you and me go hide out and have a few puffs. I guarantee that will settle your stomach.”

  Tilting her head to the left so his warm hot breath would quit causing tingles, she declined. “No, thanks. I’ll take my chances with the Gulf.” She twisted to get out of his clutches, but he was too strong.

  Her eyes darted to the front of the boat, searching for Michael, but he was busy chatting with three other contestants a
nd hadn’t seen her distress signals.

  “Don’t say I didn’t try.”

  She fell backward as the boat hit another rough spot, sending salty seawater splashing up at her over the railing. Instantly, she knew it was a bad move, and Stefano’s lower body pressing into her backside verified it. Wiggling, she tried to get out of the embrace, which seemed to only add to his enjoyment.

  It’s official. I’m a bona fide perv magnet.

  “Sorry about that last big one,” the captain apologized. “Get your gear ready. We’re almost to the spot I like to call ‘Come to Mama.’”

  This time Jordan pushed back hard enough to break Stefano’s hold on the railing and darted out of his reach.

  “A feisty one. I like that.”

  “You do know I’m a judge, right?”

  He tilted his head and grinned, giving her another dazzling show of perfect white teeth. “All the better.”

  The whole idea behind this fishing trip was so the contestants could get to know each other. As a bonus, anyone who caught enough fish to feed the three judges and twenty-five lucky tasters would automatically receive an extra ten points. Since one of the chefs would be eliminated after the first round, the extra points could prove invaluable.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting your pole ready so the others don’t get a leg up on you?”

  Stefano laughed out loud. “Darling, do you seriously think I need the points?” He winked.

  Geez! Who is this guy? “How would I know what you need? I only met you three hours ago.”

  She moved away when he inched closer to whisper in her ear.

  “Trust me. I don’t need the points. Not for the elimination round tomorrow or any other time.” He pointed toward the others. “Some of those losers couldn’t beat me with a hundred-point advantage.”