Murder for the Halibut (16 page)

“Castillo de San Cristóbal, otherwise known as Saint Christopher’s Castle,” Fernando
answered. “It’s the largest military fortification ever built by the Spanish and has
been here since the seventh century. The first shot fired in the Spanish-American
War was from here. It sits on twenty-seven acres of land and is one of our most popular
tourist attractions.”

“Can we stop and look around?” Rosie asked, sipping her second wine cooler.

“Not if you want to grab a quick bite before we go to the Bacardi distillery. It’s
after noon, and I’m supposed to have you back at Señor Frog’s by three o’clock.”

Victor snorted, juggling his hands up and down. “Let’s see—old Spanish fort or free
rum. No contest, my man. Drive on. I can look this place up on the Internet and see
the inside when I get back to Ranchero.” He clicked a picture of it with his cell
phone. “Now where’s that food you promised?”

Fernando drove them to a small, out-of-the-way restaurant where they were treated
like celebrities the minute they walked through the door.

“This is my wife, Carmen,” Fernando confessed when a pretty young Puerto Rican woman
appeared. He bent down to kiss her on the forehead. “And they make the best
lengua rellena
on the island.”

Jordan narrowed her eyes. “Please tell me
lengua rellena
means a burrito with a lot of cheese.”

“It’s stuffed beef tongue, a delicacy on the island,” Fernando’s wife explained in
broken English.

“Oh God! Even I won’t eat that,” Victor said. “Isn’t there a taco joint around here?”

“Lucky for you they also make the best
carne guisada puertoriqueña
in the area.” After Jordan scrunched her nose up, he added, “Puerto Rican beef stew
with the best
pan de agua
swimming in melted butter,” he explained. “That’s just about the most delicious bread
you’ll ever taste.”

“Stew and bread sounds great. I’m starving, too,” Jordan said, following Fernando
and his wife to the table.

After they finished lunch, which was every bit as delicious as Fernando had promised,
they piled back into the limo and soon were on their way to the Casa Bacardi Visitor
Center. With her stomach full, Jordan leaned back into the soft white leather and
thought about sneaking a power nap, but before she could even close her eyes, they
hit a bump in the road, and Victor squealed.

“There’s the famous bat.”

“What famous bat?” she asked, craning her neck to see the huge white sculpture that
showcased the entrance to the visitor center.

“It’s Bacardi’s logo,” Fernando explained. “As far back as the original rum-making
days in Cuba, the old dark distilleries had hundreds of fruit bats hanging from the
ceiling. They’d come out at night and feast on the discarded fruits and sugarcane.
Because the company did so well, the bats were held in the highest regard and soon
were looked on as bringing good luck. Even after Castro took over as dictator and
Bacardi moved his operation to Puerto Rico, he kept the bat as the company logo. It’s
become so well known that anyone who sees it automatically thinks ‘Bacardi rum.’”

“We won’t see any real bats, will we?” Rosie asked, touching her blondish hair, which
was pulled into one long braid down her back. “Me and bats don’t get along.”

Fernando laughed. “No bats. In fact, the tour doesn’t
even include the actual distillery. Something about security. Where you’re going is
bright and cheery with lots of flavored rum for you to taste.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Victor said.

“I wish Ray could’ve come with us,” Lola said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “He
loves rum.”

“I hope everything went okay today,” Michael replied, unable to hide his concern.

“What could possibly go wrong? Aren’t they just making sure the body gets to the right
place?” Victor asked.

Michael nodded, but the worry on his face remained. “Yeah, but I’m wondering why he
and Emily had to be there with Goose. Do you think something’s up?”

“Quit worrying, Michael,” Victor said, reaching over to pat his partner’s back. “What
could possibly happen to a dead guy that’s any worse than what’s already happened
to him?”

It was a
little after three when Fernando pulled up to a large white building with a huge
upright frog in front. After piling out of the car, the group said good-bye to the
driver and raced toward the door and the enticing sound of reggae music coming from
inside the restaurant. Jordan was surprised when she peeked inside. The place was
packed, and from the looks of it, most of the patrons were already feeling no pain.
One girl was even dancing on the table to the lively music that was ten times louder
once they were inside the building.

Hearing her name, Jordan spotted Ray and Goose at a large circular table in the corner.
“There they are.”

She pointed before heading in their direction. The others followed, and before she
could ask why Emily wasn’t with them, she appeared with a waiter at her side.

“Meet Carlos,” she announced. “If you want anything to drink other than margaritas,
you need to tell him now. I doubt we’ll see much of him after that with this crowd.”
She smiled up at the scrawny waiter, and his adoring face left no doubt he would never
be too busy to wait on her. Like all the other men in the room, he couldn’t keep his
eyes off her.

“How about some chips and salsa, Carlos?” Goose asked. “And maybe queso.”

Carlos nodded. “Any other drinks?”

After everyone agreed that the margaritas were more than enough, he turned and left
to get the appetizers.

“How was your tour?” Goose asked when they were all seated around the table. “Fernando
is amazing, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know how you pulled that off, my friend, but it was fantastic,” Michael said,
reaching for a pitcher and pouring drinks for everyone.

“Fernando and I go back a long way. I met him on one of my first trips here, and we’ve
been friends ever since.”

“Fernando wouldn’t even let us tip him,” Rosie said. “It must’ve cost you a pretty
penny.”

His eyes twinkled when he looked at her, obviously a little smitten. “You’re all worth
it,” he said. “Actually, it didn’t cost a dime. Fernando and I have an arrangement.
I recommend his limo tours to the passengers, and he helps me out every now and then.
The man’s made a fortune off me.”

“All the more reason to celebrate.” Victor held up his
glass. “Here’s to old friends, meeting new ones, and the best cruise ever.”

Everyone toasted. Jordan looked around the table, thinking she was the luckiest girl
alive. She was in Puerto Rico with all her wonderful friends as well as a couple of
new ones—Goose and Emily. How much better could it get than that? She was about to
add to Victor’s toast when Carlos appeared with the food.

“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.