Curried Lobster Murder: Book 14 in The Darling Deli Series (3 page)

“Are you one of the judges?”

“No, no, I’m just an assistant,” she said with a smile. “My job is to make sure everyone knows what’s going on and gets to where they need to be at the right times. I’m available to answer your questions at any time of day or night, so don’t hesitate to hunt me down if you need something. I’m in room three-oh-eight, which is right by the banquet hall, if you need me.”

They listened as Charlie gave them directions to the banquet hall— “It’s on the port side of the ship, with a huge sign out front. You can’t miss it.”— then handed Moira her photo tag that would identify her as a contestant in the Chef War. When the other woman left them, they tested their room keys, hefted their purses, and went into their separate rooms to begin getting ready for the dinner later that evening.

The day of traveling had worn the deli owner out, but there wasn’t quite enough time for a nap before dinner. Instead of lying down and risking falling asleep, the deli owner decided to send an email to David and check on how the deli was doing. It was only her first day away from home, but she felt as if she had been gone for much longer. It was amazing to think that just this morning she had woken up in her bed in Maple Creek back in Michigan, and now she was on a cruise ship in Florida about to depart for a tour of the Caribbean islands.

Once she got her tablet hooked up to the ship’s Wi-Fi, she attached the keyboard and sat down at the small desk. She decided to check for any emails from Darrin first—she wouldn’t be able to stop worrying until she knew everything was going smoothly at the deli. She hadn’t received any calls from Darling’s DELIcious Delights since she got off the plane, but it wasn’t until she logged into her work email that she breathed a sigh of relief. No news could only be good news.

Next she logged into her personal email and started a message to David, telling him about her day in more detail than she had been able to during their hurried phone call earlier; she did her best describing how amazing—and intimidating—the enormous ship was. She ended the email by asking how the dogs were doing and, smiling, added an
I love you
to the end. She pressed send, then got up to take a quick shower. In no time at all she would be meeting her chef opponents as well as the judges, and she was determined to make a good impression.

By the time she emerged from the shower, someone had delivered her suitcase.
Good, I can change into something nice
, she thought, tucking the towel around herself. She had packed a couple of different dresses, and decided to go with a simple olive green one for tonight. She was saving her best dress, a sleek black one, for the final ceremony, when they would hand over the $10,000 check to the winner. She knew that the chances of actually winning weren’t very high, but it would be good to look nice regardless.

As she pulled on her dress and slipped her feet into strappy brown sandals, she had a sudden moment of panic. What would the other contestants be wearing? What would they be like? She knew that any form of competition could bring out the worst in some people, and with the stakes this high, at least some of the contestants were bound to be less than friendly. She had hoped to make some friends while on the cruise, but was now realizing that might not be so likely.

We’re all adults,
she thought as she finished buckling her sandals.
I’m sure this competition won’t turn us into monsters.

Just as Charlie had promised, the banquet hall was easy to find. In front of the heavy oak doors was a large banner welcoming them to the Second Annual Chef War hosted by Grand Cruise Lines. A steward opened the doors for her and Candice after checking Moira’s tag and gestured them in.

The hall was beautiful. It had high ceilings with several gorgeous chandeliers, large windows that currently looked out over the harbor, and even a balcony for outdoor dining. On one side of the room was a stage, holding a long table—she assumed the judges would sit there. The rest of the floor was covered by smaller round tables for the contestants and their guests. Servers were making the rounds, delivering drinks and appetizers to those already seated.

“Ms. Darling?” one of the servers said, peering at her ID tag hanging from a lanyard around her neck. “Right this way. You’re seated over by the window. Each table seats six, so you’ll have two other people joining you.”

She led them over to a round table where a middle-aged woman and an elderly man were already seated. Moira sat
down in the spot indicated by a name card. She felt a thrill at the sight of her name printed in curling script on the thick paper. It felt so official, and so final. There was no backing out now.

“Hi, I’m Nadine Jenkins,” the woman said, giving her a nervous smile. “I’m one of the contestants.”

The woman had mousy brown hair that curled around her shoulders. Her floral print dress was clean, but looked worn, and Moira noticed that she kept chewing on her lower lip; a nervous tic that left it red and irritated.

“Moira Darling,” the deli owner said, extending her hand, which the woman grasped and then released in a quick shake. “I’m a contestant too. This is my daughter, Candice.”

“This is my father, Doug,” Nadine said. “My husband had to stay home and watch the kids, so he offered to come with me.”

“Nice to meet you, Doug.” Moira smiled at him, then turned her attention back to Nadine. “So, what do you do? I know each of the contestants has to either own or work at some sort of restaurant. I own a deli up in Michigan.”

“I own a small diner in Minnesota,” the other woman said. “Well, my husband is the one that owns it. I just run it.”

“That sounds nice. It must be wonderful to work together as a family like that. Do your kids help out too?”

“They’re too young,” Nadine told her. “The oldest is twelve. She helps out with the dishes sometimes.”

“Well, just a few more years and I bet she’ll be doing a lot more,” the deli owner assured her. “Candice here was a great help at the deli while she worked there. She owns her own business now though.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” The woman gave them a small smile. If she was going to say anything else, it got interrupted by the arrival of another set of people.

The older of the two, a man in his fifties, introduced himself as Bobby Babcock. The woman, who looked to be Moira’s age, was his wife, Linda. They owned a burger joint on the East Coast, and both of them looked very happy to be there.

“Our son is in charge of the restaurant while we’re gone,” Linda told them. “I’m so proud of him. For a long time, we were worried that he wouldn’t want to take over the restaurant when we retired, but he’s finally starting to show some interest.”

“That’s wonderful,” Moira told them.

Who will take over the deli when it’s time for me to retire?
she wondered as the others picked up the conversation.
Darrin, maybe? Does he really want to spend the rest of his life working at the deli?
She wondered how different her life would have been if she hadn’t gotten divorced. It would be so nice to have a real partner in life and work, like these women seemed to have with their husbands.

“You all seem really friendly,” said Bobby when the conversation hit a lull. “I have to admit; I wasn’t expecting to meet such nice people. With the prize at stake, I was expecting the atmosphere would be more like every person for him- or herself. This is much nicer.”

“We’re all civilized,” the deli owner said with a smile, though she had been worried about the exact same thing not long ago. “I’m sure things will change once the competition starts and people begin getting eliminated.”

“Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money,” Nadine said, nodding in agreement. “I’d be surprised if people kept on being so civil to each other for the whole week.”

“It’s not really the money I’m after,” Bobby admitted. “It’s the cooking segment with a celebrity chef. Something like that could really shoot a restaurant into the big time. We’re already doing well enough, of course—we were voted the best burger joint in town a few years back and have won a few local competitions, but nothing like this.”

“That’s what I’m after too,” Moira said. “Not that the money wouldn’t be nice but I think the chance to be on TV with a famous chef would be amazing. I haven’t really entered any competitions before though, other than one at the local county fair and… well, that didn’t turn out so good.” She fell silent, hoping that she wouldn’t have to remember the horrible few weeks surrounding the soup competition at the county fair. Thankfully Candice asked them what food other than burgers they served at their restaurant, and the conversation turned to talk of which side dish went best with a good burger.

A few minutes later, after the room had filled up with chatter and laughter, Charlie stepped up to the microphone that was standing on the center of the stage in front of the long table.

“Can I have your attention, please?” she asked. A silence fell over the room as all eyes turned toward her. “I would like to welcome each and every one of you to the second annual Grand Cruise Chef War!”

She paused as the room erupted in applause, then continued, “We are very excited to have you here today, and we hope that this next week exceeds your expectations. As most of you already know, my name is Charlie Edwards, and it is my job to make sure that each and every one of you has everything you need to make this trip a trip to remember. In just a moment I will introduce the judges and we will go over some basic rules of the competition. We will then hand out envelopes containing the information you will need for the first challenge which starts tomorrow morning at eight. After that, dinner will be served and you will be free to socialize. But first, I’m going to ask everybody to turn their attention toward the balcony windows. In just a minute, we will be pulling away from the dock and our adventure will officially begin.”

Moira, along with every other person in the room, turned her attention to the huge windows out of which they could see the port. She could hear loud music coming from above, where the rest of the guests were probably gathered on deck to witness the moment the huge boat began to move. Strains of a familiar song floated down through the propped open balcony doors, and she grinned, beginning to get into the festive spirit of things. When a large cheer went up and she saw the port outside begin to move, she realized that they must have set sail. She hadn’t felt even the smallest jolt as the engines kicked into gear.
This is amazing
, she thought.
I can hardly even tell I’m on a ship.

She looked over at Candice, who had an ear-to-ear grin on her face, then at her other table mates. Linda looked excited, and was gripping Bobby’s arm; he looked eager, if a bit anxious, though nothing like Nadine who was already looking slightly green. Doug, her father, just looked impatient as he picked at his napkin and looked around for a server.

“Very exciting,” Charlie said from the stage, clapping as people cheered from their seats. “Another successful cruise has begun. I know you are all probably eager to begin exploring this wonderful ship, but I’m going to have to ask for your patience for a little while longer. First I would like to introduce the man who made all of this possible… Damien Warner.”

She stepped aside as a sharply dressed man walked up to the microphone. Moira could tell just by looking at him that he was well off. Everything about him oozed money. He was handsome enough, though his nose looked as if it had been broken at least once in his life. His clothes, however, made up for it. His suit was perfectly tailored and fit him like a glove, and a gold watch sparkled on his wrist. He looked to be about a decade younger than she was, but wore his age much better. As he took the microphone off the stand, he flashed them a charming smile, revealing brilliantly white teeth.

“Welcome aboard,” he said, gazing down at them from the stage. “As some of you may suspect from my name, my father is Leslie Warner himself. He owns this ship and one other, the
Caribbean Star
, and even though he is not with us today, I would like to take a moment to thank him, because without his hard work and ambition, none of us would be here today.” He raised a glass of water in a toast, and Moira and the other guests followed suit with the drinks they had ordered.

“A couple of years ago,” he continued, “I had the idea to host some sort of competition on the cruises. My goal was to help small business owners who have put in the hard work to get where they are today and have the ambition to reach great heights—though of course we also hope to provide entertainment for our other guests. Thanks to some help from my father, we managed to get everything arranged to host the very first Grand Cruise Chef War last year… and it was a hit! I can only hope that this year’s competition goes just as well.

“Now to introduce the judges. I will, of course, be serving as the head judge. Ms. Felicity Dane and Mr. Walter Rae are the other two judges this year. Please give them a round of applause.”

A thin woman with long blond hair and a tan that didn’t quite look real stood up and beamed at them, followed by a stocky, dark-skinned man who offered them a theatrical bow.

“I’m going to let Charlie take over now to explain the rules,” Damien said once the smattering of applause had ended and the other two judges had taken their seats. “I swear she knows them better than I do… and I wrote them!”