Murder for the Halibut (24 page)

But at least he hadn’t brushed them off and had promised to check it out. Acting on
that and the information he’d tricked Casey into revealing on the snorkeling trip,
he and Orlando questioned the
Carnation Queen
kitchen employees again, but this time they took Alex with them. It hadn’t taken
long to find the man responsible for cutting out those ten minutes of the security
tape before splicing it back together. After Alex threatened to have him arrested
in Miami for tampering with evidence, the man confessed, saying he’d agreed to do
it in return for a night with Marsha—a payback he had yet to collect on.

Orlando had promptly fired him and had him escorted
to his room where he would remain until the ship docked in Miami in two days. Then
they’d kick him off the ship. As both Ray and Alex had pointed out, with no solid
evidence that any crime had been committed, that was all they could do. The good news
was he’d been able to verify Casey and Marsha’s story that the baskets had already
been sealed when they’d snuck into the kitchen.

The buzzer sounded, jarring Jordan from her thoughts, and she glanced up in time to
see the contestants throw up their hands and step away from their stations. The hour
had flown by, and Jordan was looking forward to tasting the heavenly smelling desserts.

Once again Emily went to center stage to address the crowd. “Okay, folks, it looks
like we’re ready to start the judging. The contestants have their entries plated and
ready to go. Shall we start with Luis?”

Luis walked over and stood in front of the judges’ table. “I call this Jumbleberry
Delight,” he said as the stewards carried the plates to the judges and the twenty-five
tasters.

Jordan had no idea what a jumbleberry was, but the dessert looked yummy, overflowing
with three different berries. She lifted her fork to her mouth and took the first
bite. She didn’t recognize the flavor, but whatever it was, it tasted wonderful. In
a flash she had finished hers, wishing she had more.

As if he had read her mind, George stood. “Emily, is it possible for Jordan and I
to have another sample? We want to be sure and get a good taste before we give you
our opinion.” He sat back down and patted Jordan’s knee.

Jordan decided she loved this man.

The second helping went down as easily as the first,
and she swiped at her mouth with the napkin. Luis’s entry reminded her of back home
in Ranchero where Myrtle Malone served the best desserts in the county at her little
diner. After tasting Luis’s jumbleberries, Jordan was confident the man could give
Myrtle a run for her money. She scribbled a 5 on her card, reminding herself to find
out later from George what a jumbleberry really was.

“Okay, judges. Let’s start with Beau Lincoln.” Emily took her place beside Luis. “Tell
us what you thought about this dessert, Beau.”

Beau sniffed and wiped his mouth with his napkin before looking directly into Luis’s
eyes. “I thought it was dry. I didn’t taste much of the orange liqueur, and the cinnamon
overpowered the rest of the dessert. For that reason I gave it a 2.5.”

The audience groaned as Luis glared at Beau, convincing Jordan there really was animosity
between the two men. Did Luis have a thing going on with Marsha, too? Could this be
the result of a little jealousy, or was Beau merely attempting to secure Marsha’s
repeat win tonight by giving the other contestants a low score?

“Jordan?”

She jerked her head up. “Oh, sorry. I thought it was delicious, Luis. Unlike Beau,
I found the cinnamon a delightful addition, and the drizzle completed the flavor.”
She picked up the card from her lap. “I gave it a 5.”

The crowd erupted in applause, and she heard Beau grunt beside her.

After the crowd noise died down, Emily said, “With two votes in, Luis, you have a
7.5. Let’s see what George has to say.”

George stared at Luis for a moment as if trying to
decide which way to go. Finally, he exhaled and began. “I was a little nervous when
you explained that the drizzle was made from the triple sec, since I normally wouldn’t
think of mixing the berries with the strong orange flavor, but I have to admit I was
pleasantly surprised.”

The corners of Luis’s lips tipped in a half smile as he waited for the rest of the
critique.

“Like Jordan, I loved the way the cinnamon and the berries seemed to compliment the
tapioca perfectly. Sometimes tapioca can be overcooked, but you did a nice job with
yours. Because of that, I also gave your dessert a 5 and hope you’ll allow me to try
out this recipe in my restaurant.”

The smile on Luis’s face widened before he shot Beau a go-to-hell look.

The crowd was on their feet as Luis walked back to his station. Jordan found herself
smiling, not because the dessert had been so good—though it had been—but because she
and George had thwarted Beau’s obvious attempt to sabotage Luis’s chances.

Score one for the good guys.

“Seems Luis has set the bar pretty high tonight,” Emily said, taking center stage
again. “Let’s find out what Casey whipped up for us.” She waited while the stewards
passed out the plated dessert.

Casey walked around her station to stand in front of the judges. “I call this Baked
Pineapple a l’Orange,” she explained as the dishes were set in front of the judges.
“I crushed the blueberries and heated the triple sec to make a nice citrusy glaze.”

Jordan took one look at hers and inhaled deeply. This one wouldn’t be as easy as the
first one. She’d never been
much of a pineapple eater, but it didn’t look too bad. At least it wasn’t a baked
gland. She took a second peek to make sure of that before she took the first bite.
Although it wasn’t something she would order in a restaurant or choose from a buffet
table, it was edible. The blueberry drizzle might have had a little too much cinnamon,
but the overall flavor was good.

She giggled to herself, thinking she was beginning to think like a real judge.

“Beau, tell us what you thought of Casey’s Baked Pineapple a l’Orange,” Emily said.

“I thought it was almost perfect. I say almost because I think it could have used
more cinnamon and a little less tapioca. Still, I thought it was good enough to give
it a 4.” He held up his card.

Jordan watched Casey’s reaction, expecting her to be a little miffed at not getting
a 5, but the chef was smiling, making Jordan wonder if the three of them—Casey, Marsha,
and Beau—had worked out an arrangement that would allow Marsha to win and share the
money with Casey. Marsha would certainly make a better candidate for the ad campaign
in a world where sex was key to selling products.

“Jordan, what did you think about Casey’s dessert?” Emily asked, moving to her left
to stand in front of Jordan.

“Again, I have to disagree with Beau. I thought it had a little too much cinnamon
for my taste. Still, it was evenly cooked with just the right amount of orange flavor.”
Mentally, she high-fived herself. Maybe George was starting to rub off on her.

She reached for the card and held it up. “But I gave Casey a 3.5 only because—”

“Beau Lincoln, I’m going to kill your cheating ass.”

A collective gasp went up in the audience about the same time Jordan heard Beau swear
under his breath. She turned in time to see Charlese Lincoln running down the aisle
toward the stage with a half full glass in her hand, shouting obscenities at both
her husband and Marsha.

She was on the steps to the stage now, her face beet red with anger. When she got
to the last step, she fell, sending the glass sailing through the air, its contents
spilling out, before it hit the stage floor and shattered into pieces.

“Dear God!” Emily said, rushing over to the fallen woman with George right behind
her.

George bent down to examine her as the crowd settled into an eerie silence, waiting
to see if Charlese was hurt.

“Get the doctor,” George hollered. “This woman’s not breathing.”

As Armando Ferrari, the ship’s doctor, fired up the defibrillator one more time, Jordan
had the sinking feeling that there was nothing the physician could do to help Charlese
Lincoln. Along with the rest of the people in the packed theater, she couldn’t believe
the scene playing out in front of her. Beau’s wife was only in her late twenties,
and other than drinking too much, she hadn’t given any indication of an underlying
medical problem. So how could a fall cause enough damage to stop her heart?

The sound of the doctor’s voice shouting “Clear” and the thud that followed as he
shocked Charlese’s heart one more time echoed across the theater. Eerie silence. An
occasional murmur from the front row.

Beau stood up but remained behind the judge’s table with a stunned look on his face,
watching as if the
emergency resuscitation was happening to a stranger rather than to his own wife.

After listening to the woman’s chest with a stethoscope, the doctor turned to Emily
and shook his head. “She’s gone,” he said simply, then bent down and sniffed her mouth
before straightening back up. “But we have a much bigger problem here, I’m afraid.
Can someone get the head of security down here immediately?”

The ship’s executive chef, who had stayed in the background until now, was leaning
over Charlese and already dialing his cell phone. One of the stewards bent down and
reached for the defibrillator to repack it.

“Be careful not to touch the body,” Ferrari warned. “This is now a crime scene.”

“A crime scene?” Ray asked after he and Alex had made their way up on stage. “What
makes you say that, Doc?”

Ferrari gave Ray the onceover. “And you are?”

“Ray Varga. I’m working private security for the Lincolns.” Ray pulled Alex forward.
“This is Alex Moreland. He’s FBI. We’ve been working closely with the
Carnation Queen
’s acting head of security on another matter.”

“What’s going on, Ray?” Orlando said, out of breath from jogging down the aisle and
up the steps.

Ferrari moved closer to Orlando. “I believe this woman has been poisoned,” he whispered
loud enough for everyone on stage to hear.

A collective gasp was followed by an instant murmuring that quickly escalated into
the din of everyone talking at once.

“Quiet, please,” Orlando ordered before bending down to examine the body. “And why
do you think she was poisoned?”

“Lean over her face, and you’ll smell bitter almonds.” When Orlando did as he was
told and then nodded, the doctor continued. “See how her skin is so red? That and
the almond odor are classic symptoms of cyanide poisoning.”

“Dear God!” Jordan whispered. “How could she have been poisoned?”

Alex stepped forward, switching from casual observer to cop in a flash. “Orlando,
did you bring the box with you? Someone needs to glove up and bag what’s left of the
cocktail glass. You might even be able to get a sample of the whiskey if you hurry
before it evaporates.” He pointed to the liquid that had rapidly spread over a large
portion of the stage floor.

Orlando nodded to one of his assistants, who ran from the stage to get the equipment.
“Get the rest of the guys and start evacuating the theater,” he instructed another
one. “We may have a murder on our hands.”

Jordan and the
others waited poolside for Ray and Alex to come up and fill them in on the details.
It had been three hours since Charlese’s death, and they were going crazy wondering
what had happened. Left to their own imaginations, they’d come up with all kinds of
wild scenarios that ran the gamut from suicide to accidental poisoning. Each theory,
however, ended with Beau Lincoln as the bad guy.

Finally, right before midnight, Ray and Alex showed up. Any idiot could tell from
their expressions they brought bad news. After Alex kissed her forehead, he flopped
down in the chair next to her.

“It’s almost certain it was cyanide,” he said, stroking the inside of Jordan’s arm.
“But without an autopsy and toxicology results we can’t be sure.”

“Do you have any idea how she got the cyanide?” Victor asked.

“No,” Ray answered. “We suspect it was in the liquor since she was obviously drunk,
but Orlando’s checking to see if any food was delivered to their suite tonight. Cyanide
works quickly, taking anywhere from one to fifteen minutes to kill a person. That
means we have a small window, and since she was carrying a glass of Scotch, more than
likely that’s how she ingested it.”

“Fortunately, they were able to salvage a tiny amount of the liquor, and Orlando will
get that off to the lab in Miami as soon as we dock the day after tomorrow,” Alex
said.

“It’s hard to believe we only have one more day at sea before the cruise is over,”
Lola said, shaking her head. “I declare, I’ve seen more dead bodies on the
Carnation Queen
than I see on
CSI
every week.” She lowered her head and sighed. “I can’t quit thinking about what happened
to that poor woman tonight.”

“How’s Beau doing?” Jordan asked, reaching around Victor to pat Lola’s hand.