Cooks, Crooks and Cruises Read online

  When the aprons had all been distributed and proudly worn, I got everyone to stand together with Vince and the un-detachable Meredith, getting a pretty spectacular group picture to post online.

  After the picture was done, and everyone was getting settled at their various cooking stations, Meredith approached me.

  “Smart work, Adrienne.”

  “Thanks. I think the guests will be pleased to have a group picture too.” I was pretty pleased both with how it came out and that I was still in Meredith’s good books.

  “Not here,” said Meredith poking me in the shoulder. “I mean last night.”

  “Last night?” I asked tentatively. I wasn’t quite sure what Meredith had thought she had seen.

  “I saw you with the first officer.” She gave me a knowing look. “Vince and I are very grateful. Very. Grateful.”

  I tried not to look too puzzled. “Thank you.” My voice was now even more tentative than the last time.

  “It’s that go-getting attitude that I really admire. Spending time with the first officer to try and keep a lid on everything that went down—that’s smart thinking, Adrienne. Really smart. I assume he’s going to make sure all his security team are encouraged not to speak about the unfortunate incident yesterday?”

  Oh.

  I got it.

  She thought I was using Ethan to help Vince.

  Was that the kind of thing I’d have to do if I ever worked for them? Somewhere along the line, there had been a serious misunderstanding.

  “And you can pass on my thanks to Cece as well. It was good of her to let you out like that,” she said with a grin and another friendly poke.

  Oh no.

  Meredith thought… She thought me and Cece were an item.

  And that Cece had given me permission to fake-date Ethan… for Vince’s benefit?

  Wow. Just wow. I opened my mouth to respond to the mountain of incorrect assumptions, but I had no clue what to say or where to even start.

  “Just keep it up, okay? You’re making a really good impression on me. Really good.”

  I nodded dumbly, my mouth still agape.

  “We’ll talk more soon. It’s showtime!” Meredith hurried off to the front of the room where Vince was almost ready to begin.

  I’d been in a lot of awkward situations in my time, but this was a definite first. I wondered what Cece would say about this. Actually, I knew what she would say: You and me? Nah, girl. I’m way out of your league. I giggled at the thought.

  But it wasn’t my fault this had happened. I hadn’t deliberately misled Meredith. No, she’d imagined it all herself, so I couldn’t be to blame. Not at all. At least, that’s what I thought.

  “Attention please!” said Vince from the front of the room. As the ship didn’t actually contain proper training kitchens, this was a converted event space, and the guests had been set up on temporary tables with portable induction cookers atop each one. Vince was going to demonstrate from the front, while the eager participants looked on and attempted to copy his cooking.

  I began to walk around the room, crouching down to get some nice close-up shots of pans as they sizzled with melting pats of butter, of students confidently holding sharp knives, right next to their fingers, using the safe grip to hold their vegetables the way Vince had taught them.

  And of course Vince himself.

  In front of the room, he was a real showman. He spoke in a loud and confident voice, throwing vegetables into the air and catching them, singing songs about Italian food—at least that’s what he claimed they were—and generally being the consummate entertainer.

  It was quite different from the persona I’d seen glimpses of in private, where he was a much more subdued, thoughtful person than the one he portrayed for the masses.

  From the back of the room, I took a short video clip of Vince juggling while the students looked on in awe, apart from one woman who decided to try and copy him and dropped her zucchinis onto the floor.

  While Vince was performing—because that’s what it was, a performance, more than an actual cooking lesson—Beverly Jax entered through the rear door, close to where I was standing.

  I looked at her, not quite sure how to greet her. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been next to her dead friend, with blood on her hands. I offered her a tight smile and a head nod.

  She had a stern look on her face, and she marched toward me.

  When she arrived, I was relieved to find out that it wasn’t because she was angry at me.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.

  She gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment.

  “It’s not right, is it?” said Beverly.

  When someone’s in a state of grief, my normal response is to just let them express their feelings, to let them get out whatever it is they want to say and release their emotions however they can.

  “I know,” I said softly. “It’s terrible, just terrible.”

  “It’s not terrible—it’s criminal.” Her voice had an underlying quiver of barely concealed rage.

  So she also thought it was unlikely that Hannah had tripped and bumped her head accidentally.

  “Who could have done such a thing.” I didn’t phrase it like a question, but just as a sympathetic form of agreement. But she didn’t catch my meaning.

  “Her,” said Beverly, with an angry glare.

  I turned my head to see where she was looking: Meredith. She was staring at Vince’s wife with what looked to be murderous intent.

  “You think…?” Despite usually being happy to let grief-stricken people get all their feelings out, I was beginning to think I might regret it this time.

  “She threatened Hannah. She said she’d taken out rivals before, and that Hannah was nothing to her.”

  “What? Why would she say such a thing?”

  “Because she’s insane?” she hissed. “Because she’s crazy? Because she’s only one percent human and ninety-nine percent pure jealousy?”

  “Jealous of what?” I asked, confused.

  The room was now filling with the smells of cooking, and I felt my mouth watering, which felt seriously out of place while Beverly was talking to me.

  “Because her name was on all the sign-up sheets. That’s it. That’s the reason. It’s pathetic isn’t it? As soon as she saw them, she thought that Hannah was obsessed with Vince. That’s why she threatened her.”

  “How awful.”

  Though I was doing my best to be sympathetic, I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. But this was good information, too.

  “And ridiculous. Hannah would never have been interested in Vince. She doesn’t date older men. He must be twenty years older than her. She just admired him, that was all. She liked his cooking, and his videos. And she wanted to help me out. And now…”

  I felt sorry for Beverly, but I wasn’t convinced that Meredith had murdered Hannah.

  I’d seen her being cold, and indeed jealous, but she wouldn’t have just killed someone for simply liking her husband. Surely even if she was insanely jealous, there needed to be a bit more than that.

  “I have to call Hannah’s mother today,” said Beverly softly. “It’s going to break her.”

  “How awful,” I repeated, unsure of what else I could possibly say.

  “She’s a single mother. Hannah was her only child. And…” Beverly wiped a tear away angrily from her eye. “…It’s all my fault,” she said through gritted teeth. “I gave her the ticket for the cruise as a thank you for suggesting bringing Vince aboard.”

  I hadn’t liked Beverly much when I’d first met her, but now I felt my heart breaking for her. She was right. It really wasn’t fair, and to have her friend taken away like that, it was dreadfully sad.

  “You mustn’t—mustn’t,” I emphasized, “blame yourself. It’s not, in any way, your fault that this happened.” I took her hands in mine. “Please remember that, Beverly.”

  She nodded at me. “I know. It was hers.”

&n
bsp; She gave another angry glare in the direction of Meredith, who was luckily still hovering near her husband at the front of the room. I didn’t like to imagine what would happen if they came into direct contact with each other at that moment.

  “If it was, I’m sure the security team will find that out, and if not, the police certainly will when we return to port.”

  Beverly just slowly shook her head while continuing to cast furious glances in Meredith’s direction.

  “You be careful, Adrienne. You have to spend a lot of time with them, and if she thinks you're interested in her husband even a little bit…”

  I suppressed a shudder.

  “I don’t think I need to worry about that. She seems firmly convinced that I’m not interested in Vince.” I didn’t mention the reason why. Or that she had offered me a job. I didn’t think Beverly would be pleased to hear that just now.

  “Still, watch yourself.”

  Beverly scanned the room a final time, before stalking back out.

  She really should have been taking some time off, but since she was new to the ship, she probably wasn’t entitled to any leave just yet.

  When she had left, I turned to watch the rest of the presentation. Everyone was so happy. It seemed incongruous that a person had been killed just the day before. And that one of the suspects was standing right at the front of the room.

  After talking to Beverly, I desperately wanted to find out what happened.

  If Meredith really were to blame, then there’d be no job for me. But escaping working for a psychotically jealous murderer would be more than consolation for missing out on the job. For Beverly’s sake, and for Hannah’s, I wanted to find out what had happened.

  As I went back into the melee to take more pictures, I vowed to keep my eyes and ears open for any kind of clue at all.

  After all, I had one solved murder under my belt already.

  Chapter 12

  After the cooking demonstration was over, Vince and I headed to the Boulevard Café for an interview. The Boulevard Café had indoor and outdoor seating, surrounded by palm trees planted in massive plots. The café was presided over by one of my favorite people aboard the ship, a Caribbean lady called Minnie who was the kindest person I’d ever met.

  As we entered, Vince followed me as I aimed for a secluded table surrounded by potted-palms on three sides. The whole café was filled with the scent of freshly-brewed coffee and freshly-griddled waffles, and the air rang with the background clatter of teaspoons against mugs, cutlery against plates, and the happy chatter of contented customers.

  Meredith had happily sent Vince and me on our way after the cooking demonstration, without feeling the need to keep an eagle eye on us. But I now knew that the only reason she was so happy to do this: she thought that I wasn’t attracted to men. If only she knew!

  Not that Vince was really my type He was much older than me, a married man, and there was already someone else I was becoming very fond of indeed.

  I could hear Minnie long before we saw her, chuckling with her deep Caribbean laugh. Before she arrived at our table, the potted palm trees around us began to shake as she brushed by their neighbors with her considerable bulk.

  “It’s wonderful to have you back again, dear,” she said with a wide beaming smile, her shoulders heaving with merriment as soon as she saw me.

  With that contagious cheerfulness, Neither Vince nor I could resist grinning right back at her.

  “And I’m happy to be back, Minnie. This is Vince DeLuca, the famous chef.”

  “A chef! How wonderful!” She took a break from speaking to give another loud laugh. “I do like my food,” she said, patting her stomach. “What can I get you?”

  “An Americano for me,” I said.

  “And I’ll take a latte, thanks.”

  Heading behind the counter to start on our drinks, Minnie left us to it.

  Off the stage, and without his wife next to him, Vince was a very different character. He spoke quietly, and he actually seemed quite mild in his demeanor. On the stage, and in the few videos of his I’d seen, he was a loud, gregarious figure, but it seemed that that was all an act.

  I started the voice recorder on my phone so that we could begin the interview.

  If I were a proper journalist, I would’ve had some decent quality microphones, but Swan cruises had not supplied me with anything like that. The interview was mostly for my own notes anyway, and I just needed enough to write a great fluff piece about Vince that would impress Meredith, so quality wasn’t the most important thing.

  “So Vince, my first question—how much of the Vince we see on video is the real Vince?”

  He blinked three times before answering. “That’s a difficult one to answer. I think we all have different aspects to our character. The Vince on the stage is different than the one off it, but they’re both me. Do you see what I mean?”

  I nodded and said that I did, though I wasn’t actually convinced. I thought he was acting in front of the camera, so no, it wasn’t really him.

  “Now, you’re famous for being an Italian chef. I hope you don’t think I’m rude for mentioning it, but your accent is very… American.”

  A small smile played across Vince’s lips. “That’s right. I actually moved to America when I was two years old, so while I am a genuine Italian, I was raised completely in the States. I didn’t go back to Italy until I filmed my award-winning show, Tasting the Tastes of Home.”

  “Wow, that’s so interesting.”

  I was playing it up a bit.

  I had of course already known the answer to the question, but most people thought because of his looks and style that he’d spent much more of his life in Italy.

  “What is it that you most like about your job? Is it the fans? Being on TV? Writing books? Being a celebrity?”

  He looked down and interlaced his fingers. He almost seemed nervous for a moment.

  “No. None of that. It’s the art of cooking that I love. Coming up with a new dish, or a twist on an old one—putting my own spin on it.”

  A smile was playing on his lips and he looked more genuinely excited than he ever had on the camera or stage. “Taking just a few simple, really fresh ingredients and putting something together that blows someone’s mind. That’s what I love to do.”

  “So it’s not really the fame that appeals to you?”

  He shook his head rapidly. “Oh no. Not at all. That’s just—”

  “A pleasant byproduct?” I suggested.

  “Meredith, I mean, my wife, says that we need to use our platform in order to get new opportunities. She thinks that if we—if I’m a famous chef, there will be more opportunities for me to really focus on cooking the foods I want to cook, rather than simply having to work under another chef, or for a restaurant, doing what they want me to do.”

  “Sounds like your wife is a large part of your success. Is that true?”

  “Oh yes,” he said nodding. “Very much so. She’s the driving force behind all of,” he looked around the room, around the ship, “this. The books, the videos, the TV show, the cruise—that’s all her, really. If she hadn’t pushed me, I’d probably just have a little restaurant somewhere cooking up my own dishes out of the limelight.”

  Watching him, I thought that he might prefer that life to the one he was actually living. But you don’t say that in a fluff piece interview. I was here to promote him, not invoke introspection and life-changing thoughts.

  “Here you are, dears. Two coffees for two hard workers,” said Minnie, placing the two coffee cups down.

  “Thank you,” we both said, smiling back at Minnie. It was amazing how her presence managed to brighten the entire mood in that brief moment.

  “And what’s next on the agenda for you, Vince?”

  He rubbed his chin with one hand and tapped at his coffee cup with the other while he thought.

  “My wife and I are thinking about a lot of different things. She—I mean, we have plans for a line of coo
kware, ready meals, meal preparation kits, and of course a lot more videos. Maybe even a movie.”

  “A movie?”

  He nodded. “A documentary. Not an action movie,”

  “Or a murder mystery!” I said with a laugh.

  Then I realized what I had just said, and we both fell into a rather uncomfortable silence.

  I pressed the pause button on my phone and we were both quiet for a few moments.

  “You know, I’m surprised my wife let us come up here together,” he said with a little smile.

  That’s an odd thing to say, I thought. Or it would be, if I didn’t know what Meredith was like already.

  “Oh?”

  He nodded. “She’s very protective of me. She thinks that every woman in the world is after me.” He smiled. “I should be so lucky.”

  “I guess she approves of me,” I said.

  “I suppose she does. That is strange. No offense.”

  I nodded back at him. It seemed that Meredith hadn’t actually told him she believed I was into women, and I wasn’t about to start telling people. As far as I was concerned, it was a simple misunderstanding and I wasn’t going to start spreading it around. I unpaused my recorder.

  “Do you have many female admirers?” I leaned in, hoping for something juicy. “I bet you do.”

  He tilted his head at me. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “Meredith manages the mail, the email, the website, the comments on the videos, and Facebook. She just lets me get on with my work, you know? So I don’t get bothered by it all.”

  “How thoughtful.” I saw someone approaching our table. “It looks like you might have one now though.”

  His eyebrows shot up in alarm, and he turned his head. We both watched as Olivia approached us, holding a hardback copy of one of Vince’s cookbooks.

  “Hi, Vince. Do you remember me? I’ve been at all your events, and we had dinner together in the Captain’s Club and—”

  “Hello, yes, I remember. Do you want me to sign that?”

  Olivia nodded eagerly. And I had an idea.