Page 92 of Love Overboard
“I baked a delectable praline cheesecake for the festivities.” He kissed his fingers. “Care for a sample? I can bring you one.”
“I’m sorry, dear. Your creations are wonderful, but I’m not very fond of pralines. I’ll stick to the cherry tarts.” She laughed. “Unless Ricardo burned them again.”
“Again?” The chef scrunched his face. “When did he burn them the first time?”
“Oh … I—” Emily bit her lip. Had she ratted out Ricardo to his boss? “That is, I heard he bought extra ingredients from his brother’s store at the last port. Perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Ricardo doesn’t have any brothers,” Lacey said. “You must’ve misunderstood.”
“Yes.” The chef sneered. “He’s the spoiled baby boy of four sisters. And it shows in his performance. I never met a pastry chef who expected more hand-holding.”
The sound of his complaining faded into the background as Emily replayed the conversation on the pier. No. Ricardo had mentioned a brother. Did he mean in the friendly, non-blood-related sense?
Lacey looped the basket on one arm. “Maybe he was referring to the time he made too many tarts a few voyages ago. Three thousand was a bit much for the captain’s reception.”
“Don’t remind me,” Chef growled. “A hundred people attended that VIP get-together. What possessed him to make three thousand? Did he think each guest would take a doggie bag? Now you tell me he’s buying extra ingredients again. I better set him straight.” He stormed away, leaving the two women alone.
Emily touched Lacey’s elbow. “Jon informed me you were helping him investigate.”
“You know about the—”
“Drugs? Yes. I promised him the Shippers would keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. The reason I went ashore today was to do reconnaissance work.”
Lacey’s lips twitched, but she didn’t interrupt.
“None of the passengers seemed fishy, but on the way back, I met Ricardo with a large bag.” Emily drew closer and whispered. “Don’t you find it odd that a pastry chef purchased replacement supplies from an imaginary brother with his own money?”
“Yes.” Lacey’s brow wrinkled. “Yes, I do.” She dropped the basket, tugged the long silky gloves from her arms, and balled them in her fist. “Excuse me, Mrs. Windsor. I need to make Jon aware of this.”
Jon skimmed the press of people and took Mr. Eliot by the elbow. “Let’s talk in private.” Jon steered him through the festive crowd to a deserted part of the deck, behind the food tent. Cases of bottled water and boxes of assorted gourmet cookies cluttered the area.
Collins tore open one of the wrappings and shoved a gingersnap in his mouth.
Jon released Mr. Eliot. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t your father call you?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks.”
Mr. Eliot held his briefcase with one hand and opened it with the other. After riffling through the contents, he drew out a file. He closed the case and stuck it under his arm, then flipped through the folder and removed a single sheet of paper. “The employee caught with the drugs on the MSRoyaldivulged the names of his suppliers to the FBI. They’re closing in, and your father believes the drug problem is under control. He wants you to conclude your work here and return to Florida.”
Collins slipped a fresh piece of gum from his pocket. “Guess I better start looking for a new job. I knew cruise ship detective was too good a gig to last.”
Jon ignored him. “Why the rush?”
Mr. Eliot pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “He resolved to entrust the reins to you before the New Year. Mr. McMillan plans to introduce you as the official CEO of Monarch Cruises then. I’ll remain in the executive secretary position and assist you during the transition. This is the projected timeline.”
He held out the paper, but Jon made no move to take it.
“Don’t you have my email address? It wasn’t necessary to bring this personally.”
Mr. Eliot offered an apologetic head tilt. “Your father wanted me to make sure you came.”
Collins laughed. “He sent a babysitter.”
“Mr. Collins, please.” A crease gathered on the secretary’s forehead. “There’s no need to be flippant.”
Jon loosened the knot of his tie and yanked it down. “Dad told me I had until summer.”
