Murder for the Halibut (26 page)

Yeah right!
We all know which chef she’s with. “Tied up” might be the perfect choice of words.

Jordan sat down. “Thanks. I’ve been trying all week to get to this book.”

“I wanted to thank you for the great score you gave my sweetbread appetizer the other
night. Because of you I won.”

“Sorry things haven’t worked out the way you’d expected,” Jordan said, putting her
book down.

Why read a mystery novel when she had a puzzle right in front of her. All she had
to do was figure out the clues. She hoped that old saying “Loose lips sink ships”
wasn’t true, because she fully intended to get the lady chef talking.

“That’s for sure,” Marsha responded. “I was really counting on that advertising contract
in New York. Guess I’ll have to go back to that dump they call a steak house in Fort
Worth.”

“It’s too bad, because I personally thought you had the best chance to win,” Jordan
said, laying it on thick to loosen her up.

Marsha beamed. “I appreciate your saying that.”

“Beau Lincoln really seems to think you’re the best chef out there.” Jordan waited
for Marsha’s response, expecting the woman to lash out.

Instead Marsha shrugged. “Yeah, he’s kind of a jerk, though.”

Now that certainly wasn’t the response Jordan had anticipated.

“Really? I thought you two were good friends.” She paused before adding a zinger.
“At least his wife thought so.”

This time anger
did
flare in Marsha’s eyes before she shook her head. “She was wrong. There was never
anything between Beau and me other than a friendship.”

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.

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.”