Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries 02 - Cooks, Crooks and Cruises Read online

  Meredith DeLuca was the wife of our celebrity chef, Vince DeLuca. She had long, straight black hair, lightly tanned skin, and was dressed in what looked to be a designer Italian dress.

  As well as being the chef’s wife, she had made a name for herself as a food critic long before she married. I had been reading up on her that morning.

  “I loved your review of the new restaurant at the Radisson.” I offered her my most endearing smile.

  The only response she gave was a very slight lift of her chin in acknowledgment, but nothing further.

  “I read all the posts on your website,” said Sam, with a beaming smile of her own in her own futile attempt to win her over.

  “My team writes those.”

  Meredith, done with us for now, turned back to face Beverly.

  “Well? What are you waiting for? Sit, sit, sit.”

  Trying not to feel annoyed, I sat down on the chair furthest to the right, while Sam took the one between me and Meredith.

  “I expect you are wondering why I called you here. Don’t worry. It’s not because you’re in trouble. Yet.”

  She stared at us hard while we sat awkwardly. Finally, she laughed. “Only joking.”

  Sam and I chuckled politely, and I tried to keep the fake smile on my face for an appropriate length of time, but I think it was probably a little short.

  “Now, you two have been recommended to me specifically. The first officer thinks you’re the two who I need for the job. Do you think you’re up for it?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Sam eagerly, not seeming to care what exactly the job was.

  “What is it that you need us to do?” I wasn’t going to be suckered into agreeing to something before I knew what it was. Probably.

  “Right,” Beverly extended her arms in front of her then pulled them in and crossed them. It looked like she was ready for business. “Adrienne, you do social media, right?”

  “I do,” I said with a nod.

  “Good. Your job is to really make this celebrity event one to remember. It’s the first time we’ve done something like this on a Swan cruise, and you are going to be a big part of making it a success. Do you think you can handle that?”

  I gave a tentative nod. “I’ll work hard to promote all the events we’re doing with Vince.”

  “Good. I want you to make it look fun, exciting, and special—like they’re really going to learn the actual secrets of the world’s greatest chef.”

  World’s greatest chef? That seemed like just a bit of an exaggeration.

  “I can do that,” I said firmly. “I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what’s going on, and make them want to be a part of it.”

  Beverly smiled, nodded, and was already moving on. “And Sam, I have selected you to be the main customer liaison to work with Vince. You’re going to be in charge of making sure people get signed up for the various events: the cooking classes, the tastings, the skills workshops, and so on and so forth. It’ll be your job to manage the masses. Spaces are going to be limited, and if Adrienne is doing her job—” she raised eyebrows in my direction “—demand is going to outstrip supply, as it were. You’re going to have to manage waiting lists, and limited spaces. Getting into all of the various workshops is going to be competitive, and it’ll be your job to make sure that people understand this and that no one ends up with any hard feelings if they can’t attend them all.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll charm their socks off!”

  I didn’t envy Sam’s job. It would be hard to explain to customers who failed to sign up quick enough that they weren’t going to spend the time with the celebrity chef they were here to see. There were no doubt going to be some very annoyed people. But I suppose if anyone could charm them, and keep them calm, it was Sam. Better her than me.

  “And Adrienne, I need you to make sure that no one posts anything negative on social media. Okay?”

  What could I say to that? Did she expect me to confiscate everyone’s devices, or perhaps just call up Facebook and Twitter and say, Yeah, by the way, we’re going to need you to censor everything being posted from aboard the ship. Cool? I decided to do what I normally did when faced with an impossible task: agree to it, and figure it all out later.

  “No problem. I’ll make sure that everyone is posting so many positive things that nothing negative ever rises to the top.”

  “Because nothing negative is ever going to be posted, is it?” she said, raising her eyebrows at me again. They went high enough that they almost disappeared underneath her cotton ball mound of blonde hair.

  “Right.”

  “And.” The single word burst from Meredith’s lips like a snake darting out of a hole. We all turned to look at her. Beverly gave a sharp nod.

  “Yes, thank you for reminding me, Meredith. Adrienne, Sam, there is one person I need you to keep an eye on. One of our guests is a very big fan of Vince.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “She’s a stalker.”

  Beverly nodded tentatively at that, not quite willing to commit to such a strong term. “She follows Vince around everywhere. I need you to make sure that she is kept under control.”

  “Is she barred from all the events?” Sam almost looked excited at the prospect of getting to play bouncer.

  Beverly shook her head. “No, Olivia Porter’s paid her money and she has as much right as anyone else to be here. But we need her kept under control. Don’t let her follow Vince away after an event, don’t let her trick him into being alone together. You know—the standard keeping crazy people away type of deal.”

  “If you give me her details, I’ll watch out for her, and keep her under strict control,” said Sam firmly.

  I admired her confidence.

  “And Adrienne, make sure this Olivia doesn’t post anything negative on social media, okay?”

  I dug my fingers into my palms and gritted my teeth. Another impossible task. “I’ll do my best.”

  Beverly gave me a plastic smile that was more of a grimace which she held for several seconds before she spoke again. “As long as ‘your best,’” she air quoted with fingers, “achieves the task you have been set, that will be fine.”

  “I shall attend to my husband now,” said Meredith, rising to her feet and immediately turning to leave. She gave us just the barest glance of acknowledgment as she left, not deigning to waste any significant words on the likes of us.

  “Any questions?”

  I had plenty of questions, but none I wanted to ask her. Sam obviously felt the same, because we both shook our heads and pushed ourselves back to our feet.

  “It was nice to meet you, Beverly. Looking forward to working together.”

  “Likewise,” said Sam.

  She waved us away and got back to whatever important work a cruise director does when they’re not busy bothering their staff.

  When we were outside of the office, we quickly headed out onto the nearest outside deck. The problem with talking inside the ship, especially in the more industrial non-passenger-facing sections, is that voices tend to bounce off all the bare metal walls, and you can often hear people from more than a hundred yards away if they’re talking in a quiet hallway.

  “She seems better than Sylvia,” said Sam, referring to the previous cruise director.

  “Yes, maybe.” I was not yet convinced. “Though how I’m supposed to block all the passengers from posting anything negative on social media is beyond me. I just hope that nothing like that ever filters back to her.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve got to wrangle this Olivia. That should be fun.” We both laughed. Suddenly, Sam nudged me hard.

  “Look!”

  I did as I was told and looked where she was pointing.

  “I guess that’s the new captain.” Further down the deck was a man dressed in a captain’s uniform, so unless we had an imposter, my guess was likely to be right.

  “Who is that he’s with? It looks like a guest.”

  “But the passengers aren’t supposed to be abo
ard yet.”

  We casually walked closer so that we could see better. Both of them were facing away from us, so it was hard to get a good read on the situation. The woman appeared to be much younger than him. Although it was hard to tell from behind, I would have wagered that the slim brunette was in her early twenties.

  “Maybe it’s his girlfriend,” said Sam with a grin.

  “Or his daughter.” Their body language didn’t look like parent and child though. Their postures were a little too upright and they were a touch too distant.

  “Or a mistress,” said Sam.

  “Stop it,” I said with a nudge. “We can’t be gossiping about the captain. We don’t even know him.”

  “That’s why we can gossip about him. If you do it to people you know, that’s talking behind their back. That’s bad. But we don’t know him, so it’s fine.”

  Impressed by her impeccable logic, but still not entirely convinced, I decided to just let the matter drop.

  “Come on. If it’s anyone interesting I’m sure we’ll hear about it in due course. I want to try and unpack before we really begin.”

  With only a small whine of complaint, Sam let me drag her back inside.

  “You know, I think this is going to be an interesting trip…”

  Chapter 3

  I t was with good spirits that Sam and I started work the next day. For this cruise, we’d be able to hang out pretty much all day long. While Sam was in charge of customer liaisons with the chef, as the social media manager I would have to be around all of the events that Sam was managing, to capture the very best moments—or build up the excitement for them before they began.

  The first thing on the agenda was setting up some sign-up stations for the first round of events, followed by a book signing with the great chef himself.

  We were outside in an area called the Lagoon Pool. It was the biggest outdoor swimming pool on the ship, and although it wasn’t quite the size I imagined a real lagoon would be, it was big enough to have its own island, which doubled as a pool bar, as well as another pretend-ramshackle bamboo shack-style bar called Hemingway’s. With the smell of the ocean drifting by, you could almost imagine you were on a tropical island somewhere, instead of aboard a modern luxury cruise liner.

  We had co-opted an outside corner area near the pool, where we had a row of plastic tables set up as event sign-up stations as well as a covered area which would be used for the book signing a little later on.

  To kick things off, I took a few pictures of Sam, trying to catch her looking both glamorous—but also incredibly hardworking. I had no doubt Beverly was going to be paying careful attention and we wanted to put on our best front.

  “Hey, could you look up at me while you’re setting up that paper?”

  “But if I look at you, I can’t see what I’m doing.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll look sultry. Just for a second.”

  Sam did as she was told, and I got a nice picture of her looking up toward the camera which I immediately posted to all of our social media streams.

  “Look at this,” Sam said.

  I lowered my phone to stop taking pictures for a moment and did as Sam asked. She was holding a stack of three clipboards.

  “What is it?”

  Sam handed me her first sign-up sheet. It was titled “Knife Skills with Vince DeLuca.” Underneath, there was room for fifty people to write their names. At the very top, in position number one, a name had already been written: Hannah Menard.

  I gave Sam a quizzical look.

  “Look. She’s signed up before I even put the sign-up sheets out. And there’s more.”

  Sam handed me her second clipboard. This held the sign-up sheet for another workshop, which was titled “Mise en Place and the Secret of the Thirty Second Omelette.” Again, in pole position, was Hannah Menard.

  “And this one.” Sam held out the third and final sign-up sheet toward me. This one was titled “Parmigiano Reggiano—King of Cheese, Emperor of Foods” and again Hannah Menard had already slipped her name to the top of the list.

  “Is that the stalker woman that we were told to look out for yesterday?” While it seemed logical, I had a feeling it had been a different name.

  Sam shook her head. “No, that was Olivia Porter. This is someone else.”

  “Maybe you’ll have two stalkers to manage. Perhaps you can set them on each other.”

  Sam snickered, and brushed a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes.

  “Yeah, that’s all I’ll need. A surfeit of stalkers on top of the controlling wife and Beverly.”

  “Speaking of which…”

  I nodded my head in the direction of the lagoon pool’s ‘beach.’ Instead of a traditional pool edge, the water gradually grew shallower and shallower until it lapped at the edges of the sunbeds as if it were really the sea. Standing in the morning sun was Beverly, talking to a young brown-haired female guest.

  “Is that…” Sam’s brow was furrowed, and her eyes squinting, while she held up one hand to shade her eyes from the glaring sun.

  “I think it is.” We were referring to the fact that Beverly seemed to be talking to the same young lady who the captain had been talking to the day before. Whoever she was, she seemed to be well connected.

  “Quick, look busy.”

  I lifted my phone up. That’s how you look busy in my job—stare at your phone, and people will assume you’re doing something clever online. It’s kind of the opposite of most jobs.

  Beverly was walking arm in arm with the young lady toward us.

  “…and that will look spectacular on the newsfeed!” I said, finishing a sentence which had had no beginning, entirely for Beverly’s benefit.

  “Is everything ready?” said Beverly, skipping the normal greetings. “No problems, I trust?”

  Sam and I both shook our heads. “Everything is going swimmingly,” I said with a grin and a head nod toward the swimming pool. “No negative social media posts yet!”

  Beverly frowned. “I should hope not.”

  Oops. Note to self: no joking around with Beverly. She has the sense of humor of an air mattress.

  “Beverly, actually, I am a little concerned about something,” said Sam with a lopsided smile.

  “What? What is it? What is it that you’re worried about?”

  It’s probably nothing” said Sam calmly, clearly alarmed by Beverly’s overly concerned response. “I was just wondering, does that Olivia Porter ever go by another name?”

  Beverly shook her head back and forth so quickly I felt dizzy. “No, we’ve not seen her do that. Why? What’s the matter? What has she done?”

  Sam was holding up one of the sign-up sheets. “It’s just this name, Hannah Menard, has signed up for everything already. It seemed kind of odd since I haven’t even officially put the sign-up sheets out yet. She must have snuck her name on somehow.”

  Beverly’s worried frown disappeared and she laughed, a surprisingly light and tinkling giggle. “Oh no, this is Hannah,” Beverly jerked her head in the direction of the young woman she was with. “She’s my friend.”

  I smiled at that. While I hadn’t really thought about it, Beverly didn’t seem the type who would actually have any friends.

  “That’s a relief,” said Sam with a grin. “I thought I was going to have to lasso her already.”

  Hannah laughed. “No, Beverly asked me to sign up for all of these things. She warned me about Olivia—I’m going to try and keep an eye on her from the inside. You’ll be too busy managing all the events to keep watch on her all the time, won’t you?”

  “Good thinking.” Sam was nodding but I knew she didn’t mean it; the idea of having a spy on the inside probably annoyed her no end. But she was a good actress, and if the boss thought she had a good plan, then Sam was going to tell her it was the best one ever.

  “Actually, it’s Hannah you have to thank.”

  Sam and I exchanged glances. We weren’t sure what it was we were supposed to be thankful
to the young woman for.

  “Oh?” I offered with a tentative smile.

  Beverly gave another light tinkling laugh, and to my surprise she seemed quite charming. It must have been the positive effect of her friend, I decided. “It was actually Hannah’s idea to invite Vince on the cruise. So if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be doing any of this,” she said spreading her arms in front of our sign-up tables.

  “How wonderful,” said Sam while I nodded my enthusiastic agreement.

  “Are you all ready?”

  Beverly ran an experienced eye over our little section, and didn’t seem to harbor a critical gaze on anything.

  “I think so!”

  “Think so isn’t good enough,” said Beverly with a frown, her charm evaporating in an instant. “Check again.”

  While we stared after them, the two women walked off arm in arm.

  “I am ready.” Sam folded her arms across her chest. “I was just trying to be modest.”

  “I guess we have to say exactly what we mean with Beverly. No more false modesty.”

  Sam slapped a stack of flyers down on the table in irritation.

  I nudged on the arm. “Look, it’s the Wicked Witch.”

  We both giggled. After having met her in person the day before, we had decided that there was something very crone-like in Vince’s wife, Meredith. The long, perfectly straight black hair certainly added to the effect.

  “You’ve set it up like this, have you?” was how she greeted us. In some ways it was better than the day before—she’d actually spoken a whole sentence this time. However, the fact that the sentence seemed to be a veiled criticism tarnished it somewhat.

  “We have,” said Sam emphatically, not beating around the bush anymore.

  Meredith did not respond with words, but instead picked up the sign-up sheet that was on the left end of the table and moved it to the right. Then she picked up the stack of pamphlets, divided it in three, and placed them into three piles across the table.

  “That’s better, isn’t it?” Her tone brooked no response other than what we gave.