Murder for the Halibut (10 page)

“Rosie, you have definitely outdone yourself,” Jordan said, popping the last bite
of lunch into her mouth before licking her lips. “No wonder so many readers raved
about this recipe last week.”

“Calling it Pollo de la Hacienda del Rey was genius,” Lola commented, pushing her
empty plate away. “That gives this mouthwatering Tex-Mex dish a little class. And
if you ever decide to open up a real restaurant, it would jack up the price at least
five bucks.”

Rosie giggled. “When the Latinos realized that Pollo de la Hacienda del Rey was actually
my aunt Lolly’s famous King Ranch Chicken, they’d probably start another Spanish war.”
She stood before glancing up at the huge clock on the wall and plopping back down.
“I should get back to the kitchen, but I can’t resist sitting a little
longer with you all. I’m sure the guys can handle it by themselves for another ten
minutes or so.”

Jordan turned to Victor as the waiter set a second plate with the fabulous casserole
in front of him. “That was brilliant, my friend.”

His fork stopped abruptly, midway to his opened mouth, and he swiveled to face her.
“What was?”

“Your idea to make up fancy names for Rosie’s recipes.” Jordan checked out the heaping
fork he held. There was no way he could get that much food into his mouth at one time.
Was there?

Watching him shovel it in and add another forkful to the mix made her smile. The only
person who wasn’t entertained by his antics was his partner, who was watching with
a scowl on his face.

She stole a quick peek at her watch. If this played out the way things normally did
when the cute and chubby Victor ate too much, it would be only a matter of minutes
before Michael mentioned for the umpteenth time that Victor was supposed to be watching
his diet.

A few seconds later, Victor would fire back an expletive along with a thinly veiled
sarcastic remark that it was a crying shame he wasn’t perfect like Michael. Despite
the barbs back and forth, everyone knew the two were devoted to each other.

Victor surprised her by totally ignoring his partner and speaking only to her. “That
was rather brilliant, if I do say so myself,” he said before wiping his face with
the napkin. “Lord knows you would have been demoted back to writing just the personals
if your editor knew the real story behind all those ‘gourmet’ recipes you print every
week.”

“Dwayne Egan didn’t get all the way up the
Globe
’s chain of command by being stupid.” Michael shook his head, apparently forgetting
about Victor’s eating habits for the moment. “He knows exactly what Jordan’s doing,
and he doesn’t care. He sells more newspapers than he can count when Jordan’s column
hits the newsstands all over the—” He stopped when he noticed Victor eyeing the chocolate
cake in the display case on the counter.

Victor waved down the nearest waiter. “Please tell me I’m looking at Rosie’s German
Chocolate Cake over there,” he said when the waiter approached. When the young man
nodded, he clapped his hands. “That’s my favorite dessert.”

“Sweetie, you might want to skip that since you’re planning to spend the afternoon
by the pool,” Michael reminded him.

Unfazed by the remark, Victor smacked his lips. “I’ll definitely have a piece of that,
please.” He surveyed the table. “Anyone else? My treat.”

“Oh, you crazy fool. Nobody’s buying that load of crap. The last time you sprang for
anything was—actually, I don’t think you’ve ever brought out your wallet and yelled
‘Surprise!’” Lola teased.

Shrugging, Victor countered, “You have a point, my dear. Good thing all this wonderful
food is free.” He turned to the waiter patiently waiting. “Don’t get stingy on my
piece, please,” he instructed, earning one of Michael’s evil looks.

“Me, too,” Jordan said. “And don’t give him a bigger piece than me.” She winked at
the cute waiter, who smiled his appreciation.

After the waiter walked away, Victor whined, “No
fair. He’s obviously more impressed by your wild red hair than my brilliant black
eyes.”

“All’s fair…”

Chocolate was worth a little flirting, she thought, especially since she’d never been
able to resist Rosie’s German Chocolate Cake. Besides, tonight was the appetizer round
of the cooking competition. Visions of crabmeat and oysters made her stomach turn.
Give her a gigantic plate of Southwest egg rolls or ultimate nachos, and she was one
happy camper, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t see either tonight. Better to play
it smart and fill up on Rosie’s food right now, because she’d probably starve later.

“Oh hell. Me, too,” Lola said, calling after the waiter, who turned and nodded to
acknowledge her order. Straightening her caftan over her stomach, she added, “There’s
a lot more room left under this thing.”

“That a girl,” Rosie said before she turned to Michael, a confused look on her face.
“What was all that talk between Beau and your boss last night? Are they old friends?”

“Were,” Michael said, leaning in to whisper. “Wayne said they were pretty tight in
high school where they both played football, but he said Beau was a jerk even before
he got so famous.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Lola said. “A snake is a snake even after it sheds its
skin.”

“He’s a snake, all right,” Michael continued. “Wayne said he severed their friendship
when Beau did something so nasty, even his popularity and good looks couldn’t save
him from public ridicule.”

Everyone at the table inched closer.

“Don’t stop now, sweetie,” urged Victor. “Inquiring minds and all that.”

Michael swept the room with his eyes before speaking. “I wouldn’t want this to get
out since Beau is a judge, but Wayne said he stole the recipe for his Sinfully Sweet
goodies from a young girl back in high school.”

“That makes him a jerk, but why would that be the talk of the town?” Lola asked, nearly
lying across the table to hear better.

“Not that.” Michael dropped his voice even lower. “Apparently, the girl was the daughter
of a local minister and never dated. She was as homely as she was shy. Somehow, Beau
slithered his way into her life and got her pregnant, then dumped her after she gave
him her grandmother’s recipes.”

“Sheesh!” Jordan exclaimed. “Why am I not surprised? The guy’s a piece of work.”

“It gets worse. Apparently, the girl’s father disowned her, and she wrapped her car
around a pole one night. Wayne said she never came home from the hospital, and Beau
didn’t even send a card. Even laughed about it. After that, Wayne said he couldn’t
stomach the guy anymore.”

“Then why did Wayne sign him on for this contest?”

Michael laughed. “It was Emily’s idea. Wayne wanted so much for this first cook-off
to go over big, he thought he could get past all the old stuff. Apparently, Beau agreed
because he thought it might be advantageous to mingle with the A-list people in the
food industry—aka, George Christakis. That and the fact he couldn’t resist meeting
a woman with more money than him.”

“So Wayne put aside the fact that this guy is a serious
dirtbag and signed him on, all in the name of promotion?” Rosie asked, shaking her
head.

“Pretty much. Personally, I wonder if it was worth it,” Michael said.

“Here you go.” The waiter placed the dessert in front of Victor, Jordan, and Lola.

And Rosie’s cake didn’t disappoint. As they dug into the rich chocolate layers, Ray
walked through the door with a good-looking middle-aged man. When the two sauntered
over to the table, Jordan and her friends could see the man had two black eyes and
a large cut on his forehead.

“Is that what I think it is?” Ray slid over two chairs and sat down on one before
motioning for the newcomer to take the other.

“Yes, and it’s going fast, so you’d better hurry. You might even want to start with
dessert today since what you see is almost the last of it.” Rosie waved to the waiter,
then took a moment to check out the man with Ray. “Do you want to try a piece?”

“Absolutely.”

His smile was enough to send a warm pink blush across Rosie’s cheeks, but the color
deepened even further as he extended his hand across the table to her. “Jerry Goosman,
but all my friends call me Goose.”

“Goose is head of security,” Ray explained. “He and I have been poring over yesterday’s
security tapes from the kitchen.”

Jordan shot a quick look Rosie’s way, but the fiftyish woman was checking out the
new arrival, her hand still in his.

“Where’d you get those shiners, Goose, if you don’t mind me asking?” Victor moved
in for a better look.

“Not at all. The night before we boarded the ship in Miami I was downtown on business
and saw a young man getting roughed up by two hoodlums. This is what I got for stepping
in, but at least I chased the thugs away before they could do too much damage to either
of us.”

Rosie’s eyes sparkled. Goose’s tale of heroism was like an aphrodisiac to her.

“See anything unusual on those tapes?” Jordan asked, hoping the tapes had captured
Casey and Marsha in the kitchen before the contest.

Ray shook his head.

“Nothing?” she asked, remembering the conversation she’d overheard when she and Rosie
were hiding in the closet in the lady chefs’ room the night before. Marsha had actually
admitted doing something sneaky in the kitchen before the competition.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Goose answered.

“Goose, if Rosie can spare you for a few seconds, I’d like to introduce you to the
rest of my friends,” Ray said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

It was old news to everyone around the table that Rosie was like a block of metal
to a magnet whenever a tall older man was around, especially if said tall older man
wore a uniform. Although Goose was dressed in jeans and an orange and blue plaid button-down
shirt, the fact he was a security officer put him front and center on Rosie’s mental
radar screen.

Jordan snuck a peek toward the security chief and noticed his left hand was ringless.
With salt-and-pepper
hair cut in a short conservative style and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled,
Jerry Goosman was just the kind of man Rosie was attracted to.

Jordan smiled to herself, thinking she hadn’t yet met a good-looking man her friend
wasn’t attracted to. Married four times—five if you counted her weekend-long remarriage
to husband number three—Rosie knew her way around flirting. With her bleached blond
hair pulled back into braids and her tie-dyed T-shirt that showed off a pretty good
figure, she could have been a flower child from the seventies—and probably had been.

Jordan almost felt sorry for the security chief, knowing her friend was about to start
her mating ritual, which usually began before the unsuspecting man had a chance to
catch his breath. She hoped Goose was up for the challenge, because once Rosie had
her mind set, nothing stopped her.

After introductions were made and the empty dessert plates cleared, Lola finally asked
the question on everybody’s mind. “So, Goose, are you married?”

His eyes darkened, and for a minute, Jordan thought he might tear up.

“Technically, I am,” he admitted. “But it hasn’t been a marriage for a long time now.”

The smile on Rosie’s face disappeared. “Please don’t tell me your wife doesn’t understand
you.”

Jordan made eye contact with Ray and braced herself for what she knew from experience
would not be pleasant for the poor guy. Anyone who knew Rosie was aware that her pet
peeve was infidelity, having been the victim of two womanizing husbands. Goose had
just stepped on a live mine with blond braids and big blue eyes.

“Mary Alice was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s five years ago.” He pointed
to his chest. “After she bought me this God-awful shirt not once but twice in the
same week, I knew something was terribly wrong. My wife was a schoolteacher and had
the memory of an elephant, plus she hated plaid. I wore it then to please her and
now because it reminds me of her.” He tilted his head back as if to stop a falling
tear. After a moment, he continued. “I took care of her at home for as long as I could,
but when she nearly died after setting the house on fire, I knew we needed help.”

The silence that followed proved no one had a clue how to respond.

Finally, Lola reached across the table and covered Goose’s hand with hers. “I’m so
sorry. I took care of my mother while she withered away from Alzheimer’s. It’s not
an easy thing to watch.”

Goose cleared his throat, and when he looked up, the heartbreak was all over his face.
“It’s been a year now since she was able to recognize me. I visit her every Saturday
when the ship docks in Miami, but she has no idea who I am.” He paused. “Calls me
Daddy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rosie echoed Lola’s sentiments. “Where is your wife?”

Goose sniffed. “At first she was in a nursing home that accepted our insurance, but
that was a nightmare. They put her in a ward with several other unfortunate souls
who screamed half the night. Mary Alice still had moments of lucidity back then, and
she begged me to take her home.”