Deadly Reunion (16 page)

“Cealie, you and Sandkeep met each other?” Gil asked in an accusing tone on the phone.

I gripped the stem of the cold champagne bottle and spun it between my fingers. How exciting to receive champagne, even if I had no idea why.

“We sort of met,” I said. Like everyone else, I’d seen that chef and heard him speak briefly in the dining room. I had no idea how the ship’s top chef knew me. But I didn’t like Gil’s tone. Did he think I had done something wrong?

“How did you sort of meet him? And where was I?”

I stomped my foot, the bad one. My ankle throbbed. “Do I have to tell you everywhere I go and everyone I meet? I never agreed to be your prisoner or to report every incident about my life!” I snapped, more so because I’d hurt myself.

“Calm down. I’m not trying to check on you. You know I want you to live your life as you see fit, whatever that means.”

“Don’t you have a meeting to see about right now? Didn’t I interrupt something?”

“I’ll get back to it in a minute. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, tone as soothing as if he was trying to settle a colicky baby.

“I’m not a child you know. I am a grown woman.”

“I know. And you can do your own thing.”

“Right.”

“Have a glass for me,” he said and clicked off.

“Wait,” I said to the dead phone in my hand. I wanted to make sure he knew he couldn’t rule me.

Actually, I would have wanted Gil near so that I could share my inner pain. Ever since we met, he’d been the person I could turn to whenever trouble heaped itself upon me. Normally I caused it, but he never made me feel that way.

“I am woman, able to make my own way—alone,” I absently said, trying to make myself believe the words.

Had I been mean to him? I didn’t think so. I believed I justly stood up for my rights. But being right didn’t make me feel good.

I grabbed the champagne and flipped the card open. A printer had created
Bon Voyage
in large letters on top. Smaller print underneath said
Name of Guest
,
Stateroom
, and
Sailing Date
. The person who printed the chef’s name on the front of the card had written the date we sailed, my stateroom number, and
Cealie Gunther & _______.

What was that about? He could have written Gil’s name. He certainly knew who Gil was. It seemed he always complained about Gil’s Cajun food being on this ship.

Or maybe he figured I would share champagne with one of my friends.

Wait. He didn’t know my friends. He didn’t know me, either, as far as I knew.

Could he have noticed me and found out who I was and decided to send me bubblies—maybe figuring I might share a glass with him?

“Oh, right, Cealie,” I said with a chuckle. I was wise enough to know that if there was ever a time when a stranger might notice me enough to send champagne, that day had long ago zipped by.

Then why had the chef sent this bottle and two glasses?

With no idea and my leg tired from standing, I sat on the bed. Velcro screeched as I removed the boot from my foot. Relieved with my ankle free, I stretched on the comfy mattress. Maybe I could figure out what that chef was doing. Was he trying to get at Gil by sending me the nice gift?

But how would he know I had any connection to Gil? Gil wouldn’t go around announcing my name and our past relationship to every person he met, especially the man who’d quickly become his nemesis on this ship.

* * *

I awoke, surprised to find I’d slept. I had only meant to rest my leg. The wall clock showed six forty-seven, much later than I should have been up for my table’s six p.m. seating.

Sloughing sleep from my brain, I considered alternatives. Besides eating in the dining room, I could order a juicy steak in the exquisite Gold Dining Room, although a seating in that restaurant extraordinaire required reservations. I could order room service and have terrific dishes brought up to my room, or go for sandwiches or pizza.

But my main reason for this cruise was to help Tetter through a dire situation. I needed to get around her every chance I could to convince her to open up. Jane and I had done that pinkie bet about who’d convince her to spill her problem first, I considered with a grin. But Tetter’s difficulty might be serious. I needed to discover what it was and do all I could to help.

Tommy flashed into my inner vision. With every fiber of my being, I yearned to wrap my arms around him, hold him close and then at arm’s length so I could gaze at him. But in that picture also came his wonderful wife and children. I didn’t care whether my son was gay or not. I wanted him with his family that I missed and that would miss him.

I had seen Tommy so briefly. I mentally flailed myself and shoved up off the bed. I needed to get out around people so I could lose some awareness of the hole in my heart. Maybe it wasn’t too late to catch up with classmates.

Classmates—Sue. Oh my gosh, I hoped she hadn’t gone off to meet that attractive man from the bar in his room. Or could Randy be trying to make out with her?

I caged my foot into its boot, pulled my fingers through my waves, and eyed champagne in the melting ice. Would Executive Chef Sandkeep be in our dining room?

If so, how should I react to him? What would I say?
Thank you for the champagne. Why did you send it? Do you have the hots for me?

I felt the ship moving and pushed the elevator button. A thirtyish couple stepped out as it stopped, smiled at me, and then, with raised eyebrows, glanced at the emptiness around me, apparently wondering what had made me laugh so much.

Reaching our dining room, I saw through the massive glass doors that many people had already vacated their seats, or maybe fewer than normal had shown up to eat.

I drew my carriage upright, imagining the Executive Chef might be standing right beyond the solid wall panel near the entrance. Trying to recall how he looked, I could pick out only a couple of tidbits: mid-fifties, rounded cheeks, hefty and tall, wearing all white.

Was I trying to impress him?

Possibly
, I considered, remembering Gil’s anger about the man sending me champagne. And maybe the chef was better looking than I recalled.

I stepped into the dining room, skimming the area as far as I could see. The white chef’s hat should be easy to spot.

I found myself peering across to the opposite side of the huge dining room where Gil had sat. My lips tugged down at the corners when I didn’t see him or a chef.

Our waitress stepped near. “You wanted to dine with your friends?”

“Yes. It isn’t too late, is it?”

“Of course not, although they have almost finished their meal. I will get you a menu.”

I approached my table, disgruntled to find only Sue and Jane. Sue picked at her fruit cup. At least she wasn’t off with a man. Jane appeared content devouring a spongy chocolate cake coated with what seemed to be a raspberry sauce.

“The second seating is almost ready to come in,” Sue said as I sat, the smile I’d tried to form wiping from my lips.

“Hi to you, too. I’ll eat fast.” I wasn’t too hungry and would not want to keep the staff hustling between the first and second seating. Everyone was so polite and striving to please us that I surely didn’t want them to run late because of me. Our table assistant grabbed the cloth napkin standing on my plate and set it across my lap. I thanked him.

“Get this dessert,” Jane told me. “It’s exquisite.”

“I’ll skip dessert. But maybe I’ll hit the ice cream bar later.”

“Maybe I’ll join you,” she said.

“Good grief. How can you eat so much?” Sue set down her fork, a purple grape stuck on its tines.

I was saved from giving her a blunt response by our waitress handing me an open entrée menu.

“I’ll just take whatever’s quickest,” I said. “No soup or salad or breads or dessert. No wine, either.”

“Are you certain? Everything would take about the same amount of time.”

“Yes, please. Surprise me.” I returned the menu.

“Why are you so late?” Jane asked.

“I fell asleep. Where are the others?”

“This isn’t our day to keep track of them.” Sue dabbed her napkin to her lips. She placed it across her dessert dish, which still held strawberries, grapes, and cheese. “And I’m sorry, but I need to move around. I can’t sit and wait until you eat.”

“No problem. Maybe we’ll see you later.”

She gave us a brief nod and tottered away on spiky heels.

Jane gazed at me. “Was she always so bitchy? I don’t remember her being so annoying when she was Stu.”

“She was, but aggravating to us in other ways. Now she’s moody. Maybe she needs different hormones.”

“I wouldn’t have invited her along if I’d remembered that. But you know how it is—you don’t remember everything about the people you were in school with.”

“Right, and even so, maturity and adult experiences made us all change.”

“But none of us as much as Sue, right? Going from Stu to Sue.” She grinned with a wink, and a poignant moment made me sympathize with Sue. What misery she must have gone through, believing she was female in a male’s body.

“Jane, where are the others? Did they come to eat?”

“Randy and Tetter? Neither one showed up. Sue said she didn’t know where Randy went.”

“Do you think Tetter could still be in the casino?”

“Possibly. And do I believe she could have a gambling problem.”

“She also drank lots of champagne so quickly at the art auction. She could have a gambling and drinking problem, which causes some people to lose even their homes. Or maybe she uses those as crutches to distract herself from other situations.”

Jane slid her dessert fork along her dish, scraping up the last bits of drizzled chocolate. “You and I have our bet. After you eat, we’ll check out the casino. If our girl is in there, we can yank her out and give her a good talking to.”

“We might have to do an intervention.”

Our table steward stepped up with a covered dish, her smile uncertain. “Here is your meal, Ms. Gunther. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. That was quick. Thank you so much.”

She removed the cover from my plate. The exquisite scent of bacon-wrapped steak thrilled my nostrils.

“Dang.” Jane ogled my plate. “Filet mignon and fancy potatoes and garlic asparagus. That wasn’t offered on tonight’s menu.”

“Are you sure?” I leaned over my thick steak and inhaled. “This smells fantastic. Let me share some of it with you.”

“If I could fit another bite in my stomach, I would. Go ahead. I’ll ask for that tomorrow night.”

“I’ll hurry,” I said, noting that most tables had cleared. The staff quickly took up used plates and utensils and glasses. I easily sliced into my three-quarter-inch steak. The meat was pink in the middle and tasted especially flavorful. “Yum.” I raised my eyebrows at Jane and pointing to ask if she wanted some, but she shook her head. The cheesy garlic potatoes and crunchy asparagus went down before I noticed.

“Do you want to search for our friend?” Jane asked the minute I set down my napkin. “Or would you like ice cream first?”

“No way could I eat anything else. The only food that might make my belly happier now would be boiled crayfish,” I said on our way out.

“Huh?” she said, cringing.

The idea of crayfish made me think of Gil. Its antithesis, filet mignon, made me consider the Executive Chef.

“Wait, I have to do something,” I told Jane, and headed back to the dining room. I’d ask a staff member if Chef Sandkeep was around and say I wanted to talk to him.

The doors had been locked.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked.

Without answering, I peered through the glass doors. Staff members rushed, replacing ironed linen tablecloths, straightening the chairs, and vacuuming carpet. Beyond this rush of people, I spied a tall white hat.

Taking steps to the left, I rose on tiptoe and could see his face. I waved so hard I could have been trying to get Mardi Gras float riders to throw me beads.

Executive Chef Sandkeep peered at me from across the room.

Ready to pound on the glass door to ask a staff member to let me back in, I gave the chef a huge smile and a thumbs up.

His expression didn’t change.

“It’s me, Cealie,” I called through the glass and pointed at myself, though he was too far away to hear.

He turned and walked out of sight.

“Cealie.” Jane grabbed my hand. “Are you all right? What’s wrong with you?”

I tromped toward the deck of elevators. “That man,” I said, glancing back to see if he might come out of those doors since he’d seen me. “He sent me champagne. And also that steak, I’ll bet.”

“What man? You had
champagne
? And didn’t share it with your friend?”

“
That
man.” I pointed at the large frame beside the elevators that held photos with names of the ship’s main staff: Captain, Purser, Hotel Manager. Executive Chef.

“He has pretty teeth,” Jane said. “Okay, I know you like to play pranks, or I guess you still do. Because now you’re telling me the man in charge of all the food on this ship likes you enough to send you great food and drink?”

“But he’s not in charge of all the food on this trip. Gil also has a chef onboard.”

“Terrific.” Jane flung her hands up. “I don’t have anyone who knows how to cook, and you have two great cooks fighting over you?”

“Don’t be silly. That can’t be happening,” I said, realizing what Jane inferred could be right. “I’ll tell you about the champagne later. Let’s find our friend.”

“We’re searching for Tetter, right?” Jane’s finger poised over the slate of elevator wall buttons.

“Yes. If she’s been in the same place all that time, we’ll have a firm idea of what our buddy’s real problem is, whether she wants to admit it or not. And then we’ll determine how to solve it.”

Jane spoke up. “And I’ll beg for a scrumptious dinner tomorrow if we come across one of your chef boyfriends along the way.”

Hm, was that possible?

Chapter 14

“I don’t know about this,” Jane said as we approached the smoky casino. “Lots of people gamble for hours on end, and they aren’t addicted. My Aunt Lucille did it once a month with the same group of ladies who rode on a bus.”