Murder for the Halibut Page 12

  “Thought you’d like to try our specialty—The Frog’s famous nachos.” He set the huge platter in the center of the table before turning to Emily. “It’s on the house.”

  She rewarded him with a smile that would probably liven his dreams for a while.

  For the next twenty minutes, they filled up on the snacks and emptied the pitchers. Waiting for Carlos to bring two more, Michael turned to Goose.

  “I hope everything went well today.”

  Goose eyeballed Ray before nodding. “The body is now on its way to Miami where it will be taken to the Dade County Morgue for an autopsy.”

  For some odd reason Jordan felt a twinge of sadness at the finality of it all. Even an arrogant jerk like Stefano didn’t deserve to die so young.

  “What are they expecting to find?” she asked.

  Goose shrugged. “Maybe evidence of a heart attack or stroke, but my guess is, given what Thomas said about Stefano’s peanut allergy, they won’t find anything other than an elevated histamine level and a swollen throat. Those are the classic symptoms of anaphylactic shock.”

  “Really. How do you know so much about it?” Lola asked.

  Goose looked puzzled by the question. “Doesn’t everyone who’s ever taken penicillin know about anaphylactic shock?” He turned to Ray for help.

  “He’s right. Anaphylactic shock happens a lot to people who are allergic to penicillin. The throat enlarges and cuts off the air supply in a severe reaction,” Ray explained.

  “So, if someone knew Stefano was allergic, they could have exchanged the spice bottle with one that had ground nuts, right?” Lola said. When no one responded, she continued. “Who had a good reason to kill Stefano?”

  Rosie laughed. “Who didn’t? The man was an ass.”

  “Ass or not, most people wouldn’t kill him for that reason alone.” Lola turned to Ray. “Besides, didn’t you say that since the security tapes didn’t show anything unusual, you assumed no one had tampered with the food baskets they used in the competition that night?”

  Ray bit his lip, glancing up for a second to again make eye contact with Goose. When he nodded, Ray continued. “There might be a little problem with that assumption.”

  Jordan stretched across the table, nearly putting her sleeve into what was left of the queso. “What do you mean, ‘a little problem’?” she asked, remembering that Marsha and Casey had discussed being in the kitchen the day of Stefano’s death, yet they hadn’t appeared on any of the security tapes.

  She and Rosie hadn’t yet had the opportunity to talk to Ray about their suspicions, and now this. More than ever, they needed to get him alone to tell him what they’d learned. And the sooner the better.

  Goose cleared his throat. “When Ray and I were going back over the tapes from last night, we decided to recheck the ones from the galley on the first day.”

  “And?” This time Jordan leaned so far across the table, she tipped over the salsa. After quickly mopping it up with napkins, she turned her attention back to Goose, dying to know if he’d seen the two women in the kitchen. “Well?”

  “After taking another hard look at the tape, Ray noticed a discrepancy in the time stamp.”

  Hearing that, everyone turned to Ray for an explanation, including Emily.

  “It looks like there’s a ten-minute interval where the camera either malfunctioned or else someone cut the tape and then spliced it back together.”

  “Holy cow! Does that mean Stefano really was murdered?” Lola asked.

  “No, darling,” Ray continued. “It only means we have to find out what happened to the tape. Goose thinks the equipment simply malfunctioned for that short time, but it seems too coincidental to me. And you all know how I feel about coincidence.”

  Emily squealed and jumped up when a middle-aged man with a recessive hairline bumped into the table, splashing her drink onto her lap. Obviously two sheets and counting on the way to the proverbial three sheets to the wind, the man straightened up.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, after a noisy hiccup. “I’m looking for the bath…” His eyes honed in on Emily, now frantically swiping at her slacks with the napkin. “Anna? Is that you?”

  Everyone turned to Emily, whose eyes were now slanted in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  The man held on to the table for support when the waiter walked by, nearly knocking him over. “It’s me, Kevin,” he slurred.

  Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve never seen you before in my life. You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Kevin Watson, remember?”

  When Emily grimaced, Ray stood, knocking his chair backward. He darted around the table and grabbed the man’s arm. “Look, mister, the lady said she isn’t who you think she is. Now, move along. The bathroom’s over there.”

  But the man stood his ground. “I can’t believe it’s really you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Ray nudged him in the right direction. “Okay, fella, you need to find someone to take you to a nice quiet spot to sleep it off.”

  Even as Ray pushed him away from the table, the guy was still trying to convince Emily that he knew her. All conversation at the table stopped as Emily reached for her margarita and drained half of it, visibly shaken.

  Jordan imagined this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her. When you look the way she did, a man would try anything to get your attention. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” was one of the oldest pickup lines in the book. Even she’d heard it a few times at bars.

  When Emily finished her drink and set her empty glass on the table, Jordan quickly refilled it.

  “A lot of women would give anything to have your problems,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood. She touched the top of Emily’s hand in a gesture of solidarity.

  Emily blew out a loud breath and smiled her appreciation. “It gets old after a while, though,” she said simply. “Times like this make me wish things were different.”

  “What a buffoon!” Rosie huffed. “Bet he’s got a wife half sloshed back at his table while he’s trying to pick up other women. Sheesh!”

  “No doubt,” Victor said, before turning back to Ray. “So, back to your story. You and Goose found a kink in the security tapes. Is that why you weren’t able to party with us last night on the Lido Deck?”

  Again a look crossed between Ray and Goose before the head of security responded. “No, I had to babysit Beau and his wife while they kissed and made up with a couple bottles of bubbly. But this morning something happened that demanded my attention.”

  “Mercy! I’m beginning to think this cruise is cursed,” Rosie said. “What kind of problem this time?”

  “One of the passengers was robbed,” Goose said matter-of-factly.

  “Criminy!” Victor exclaimed. “Shouldn’t the thief be easy to identify with security cameras all over the ship?”

  “You’d think so,” Goose responded. “That’s why Ray and I spent several hours looking at the tapes this morning.”

  “So who did it?” Jordan asked. “Another passenger?”

  She glanced toward Rosie, remembering how the two of them had broken into Casey and Marsha’s room the first night of the cruise. She hadn’t even considered that there might be cameras in the hallways. Hearing there were made it even more critical to find a minute alone with Ray. She hoped no one had bothered to check the tapes that night. The panicked look in Rosie’s eyes confirmed she was thinking the same thing.

  Goose shook his head. “We think it was one of the stewards.”

  “I would think that would be a hard one to prove since they all have master keys, right?” Michael asked.

  “Yes,” Goose answered. “But there was one steward who stood out among all the other people entering the room—one who didn’t belong on that floor.”

  “Stood out how?” Victor pressed.

  Goose cleared his throat. “We were able to identify everyone else but him. He or she mad
e it a point to keep his shirt collar up and his back to the camera, as if he knew exactly where they were. All we know is that he was about six feet tall and had dark hair.”

  “You could be describing half the crew. Tall, dark, and handsome, if I might add,” Victor blurted before Michael shot him a look. “I’m just saying that finding someone to fit that description on a boat loaded with foreign men might be difficult.” He patted his partner’s hand, but Michael was still shooting daggers his way.

  “That’s true, Victor. That’s why Ray and I are planning to question all the stewards, one by one, starting tomorrow, to try to get to the heart of the matter.”

  Lola turned to Ray. “Tomorrow?” When he nodded, she continued. “We only dock for ten hours at Philipsburg. You’ll miss everything.” She turned her attention to Goose. “Can’t you and your men handle this on your own?”

  Again, a silent conversation between Ray and Goose played out before Ray turned to her. “I’m directly involved, darling. I’m being paid to help on this one.”

  “What do you mean? Why would you have anything to do with it?”

  Ray took a minute before responding. “Because it was Beau and his wife who were robbed last night.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The mariachi band chose that precise moment to surround the table and play a lively rendition of a “Guantanamera,” cutting off any further conversation.

  When they finished, Goose held up his hand before they could begin another. “As much as we love listening to you, we need to settle up here and get back to the ship.”

  He reached for his wallet, took out a twenty, and passed it to the leader of the band. That brought a big smile to the man’s face, and he nudged the others away from the table.

  When they were gone, Lola questioned Ray again about why it was necessary for him to help Goose with the robbery investigation. “Did Beau or his wife get hurt?”

  Ray shook his head. “No. Apparently, they slept through the whole thing after those two bottles of make up champagne they drank.”

  “What all did the thieves get?” Michael asked.

  “Thief. We think it was only one person. And he got that diamond and emerald necklace Charlese had on last night in the theater,” Ray responded. “I tried to talk them into letting me put all their valuables in the ship’s safe, but they wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Beau said he felt safer with him and his wife wearing the stuff. He wouldn’t even put it in the cabin safe.”

  “Guess he didn’t figure on someone sneaking into his room and taking it right out from under his nose,” Rosie said before grinning. “His semi-comatose drunken nose, that is.”

  Jordan shook her head, still too shocked to respond. She couldn’t help wondering if Rosie had been onto something earlier when she suggested the cruise might be cursed.

  Ray patted Lola’s hand affectionately. “I’m sorry for bailing on tomorrow’s fun in Philipsburg. I promise to make it up to you, honey. We’ll do something special in Saint Kitts. But since I am getting paid to be Beau’s personal security, any crime against him is my concern.”

  “I’ll make sure we wrap it up quickly tomorrow,” Goose said to no one in particular. “But don’t worry. I’ve arranged for a driver to pick you up at the dock in the morning and take you to the marketplace for souvenirs. Afterward, he’ll drive you wherever you want to go. I’d suggest you check out the excursions on tomorrow’s activity sheet to see if any of them interest you. I’ve instructed him to work it out with the locals to give you a significant discount on any of the adventures.”

  “All I plan to do tomorrow is soak up some rays—after the shopping,” Jordan said, finally pushing last night’s robbery out of her mind. Chances were pretty good the jewelry was heavily insured, and Beau would get a nice chunk of change.

  “Booze cruise for me,” Victor exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table so hard he nearly knocked over the empty margarita pitcher. Leaning forward, he pointed a finger at his partner. “You promised, Michael. Remember?”

  Michael laughed. “Oh, yeah, and you know what? After everything that’s happened on the cruise so far, you won’t get an argument out of me. I so need to relax and forget about things I have no control over. Let my boss get the ulcer instead of me.” He looked around the table. “So, who’s in?”

  Only Victor raised his hand. Lola, Rosie, and Jordan all agreed that shopping and then hitting the beach sounded better to them. Jordan looked to see what Emily’s response would be and was surprised to see the New Yorker deep in thought, totally oblivious to the conversation.

  “Emily, will you be able to join us tomorrow for a girls’ day out?”

  Jarred from her thoughts, Emily looked up and shook her head. “Unfortunately, I have to spend the entire day on the phone taking care of company business back in New York.” She tsked. “I swear I’m going to find someone competent enough to run the agency in my absence without calling me every hour on the hour. I’d pay a fortune for someone like that.” She finally smiled. “You all have a great time, though. It’s probably a good thing I’m not going. My back’s still red from all that sun I got yesterday by the pool.”

  “We’ll miss you,” Jordan said, noticing Victor biting his lower lip to keep from snickering.

  She didn’t know why he felt threatened by her friendship with Emily. He had to know she wasn’t the type to dump old friends when new ones came along. Although Jordan loved them all, she felt closest to Victor. That feeling went back to the very first day when she’d arrived at the apartment building he co-owned with Michael, carrying only a few suitcases and her goldfish, everything she’d owned at the time.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed. I’m going to head back to the ship and try to sneak in a nap before dinner,” Rosie said, covering her mouth to hide a yawn.

  “Me, too,” Victor chimed in. “I’m thinking about going to the casino tonight and playing a little blackjack. Wanna come, Jordan?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m terrible at that game. Why would I want to throw away my hard-earned cash? When I spend my money, I want to have something to show for it. Besides, that woman I met at the distillery told me you can get a gorgeous shell purse in Saint Martin for about twenty-five bucks. That’s where my money’s going.”

  “What woman?” Lola asked.

  “You know—that delightful British woman from the other cruise ship who gave us her drink coupons at the distillery.”

  “Seriously, Jordan, you’re really not going on the booze cruise with us?” Michael asked. “That’s all you and Victor have been talking about since he mentioned it in Miami.”

  “That was before I drank mojitos and margaritas all day long,” she responded with a chuckle. “I have a feeling I’m going to pay a price in the morning, and ibuprofen will become my best friend.” She paused long enough to finish off her drink. “No sense wasting any since I’ve already done the damage,” she said with a wink. “Anyway, I know I don’t have to tell you this, but y’all have a great time tomorrow. We’ll meet up later and compare stories.”

  The waiter appeared with the check, and everyone reached for their money to divide the bill like always.

  Emily handed him her credit card. “This one is on me,” she announced. “Trust me when I tell you it was worth every penny to spend time with you all and not have to think about my problems for a while. And don’t even get me started on what’s happened on the cruise ship.”

  For a moment Jordan thought she saw tears forming in the corners of Emily’s eyes, but if there were any, she quickly blinked them away.

  “I’m not looking forward to spending all day tomorrow listening to Beau go on and on about how he should be compensated. The man has more money than the state of Texas.” Emily laughed, but it came off as fake. Something seemed to be bothering her.

  “Anyway, I may never drink again, either,” she added, lifting her empty glass for emphasis.

  After the bill was paid, the gang made their way
to the door. Jordan took one final look across the room, curious to see if the inebriated guy who had hit on Emily earlier was still there. She spotted him staring so intensely at Emily as she walked through the crowded room, he didn’t even seem to care that his wife—at least, Jordan assumed it was his wife—was watching his every move with a look that could kill.

  Unbelievable! Having witnessed all the grief Emily took because of her beauty, Jordan said a silent thank-you that she had more ordinary features and didn’t have to put up with obnoxious jerks like that.

  “Jerry Goosman! You said you’d call when you docked today. I waited all morning.”

  Jordan was still concentrating on the drunken guy across the room and nearly bumped into Rosie when everyone ahead of her stopped suddenly. A petite Hispanic woman dressed in a tight-fitting tank top and shorts that left nothing to the imagination sprang up from the table near the front door.

  Before Goose could respond, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body into his in a move designed to get his attention. Goose’s response left no doubt it had worked, before a slight reddish glow crept up his face. He looked as if he’d like to find a big hole and crawl in it.

  Judging by the way the woman’s hands were all over him, she was more than a casual friend. Jordan stole a glance Rosie’s way, noticing the disapproval in her friend’s eyes and hoping she didn’t go off on Goose right then and there. Rosie could get very vocal with her opinion of men who cheated, and from the looks of it, that shoe probably fit Jerry Goosman.

  The security officer used both hands to unlock himself from the woman’s embrace. “Lara, I was tied up all day on board the ship with a security matter. We still need to talk about that business deal we discussed, but unfortunately, it will have to wait until next week or the week after.”

  Free of her hold, Goose bolted for the door, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough, leaving the young woman with a surprised look on her face. She was probably wondering what business deal he’d been talking about.