Free Murder for the Halibut by Liz Lipperman

touched the cocktail he’d offered just a moment ago.
    “Thank you. And yes, I did know the company was doing great. It was a brilliant move,
     but then again, I’m not surprised a smart, savvy guy like you pulled it off.” She
     gave him one of her sultry looks, designed to bedazzle an unsuspecting male, while
     she lied through her teeth.
    Sheesh!
Rosie didn’t have to lay it on that thick, Jordan thought as she maneuvered Casey’s
     purse off the table and into her lap without detection. She unclasped the small black
     clutch and immediately found the keycard in a side pocket, along with a wrapped condom.
    Pulling her hand out of the purse as if she had touched a lit match, Jordan wrinkled
     her nose. A condom? Casey had obviously started out the evening with big plans before
     drinking herself into a stupor.
    But big plans with whom? Or maybe it was only a caseof the frumpy chef dipping into her old Girl Scout training and showing up prepared
     just in case she got lucky.
    Jordan cleared her throat, and Rosie glanced her way. When Jordan nodded, the older
     woman shoved the drink back toward Marsha. “As much as I love talking to you two,
     I’d better mosey on up to my room and hit the sack. I just remembered I have to get
     up really early to cook tomorrow. Thanks, anyway.” She motioned to Jordan. “Ready?”
    They said their good-byes and headed out the door. Once they were in the hallway,
     they quickened their pace, nearly sprinting by the time they approached the elevator.
     Neither spoke during the ride down three levels to the deck where Marsha and Casey
     shared a room. Only after she’d pushed the stolen key into the lock and they’d entered
     did Jordan finally feel safe enough to breathe normally.
    She’d never done anything like this before—unless you counted the time when she and
     her best girlfriend snuck into the nun’s private kitchen back at Saint Anthony’s and
     raided the refrigerator. Although she and her partner in crime hadn’t been caught
     and had ended up with a fantastic plate of snickerdoodles, she knew in her heart she’d
     have to pay the price at the pearly gates over those cookies. Unfortunately, just
     like so many years before, Jordan’s inner voice was screaming at her to get out before
     it was too late.
    She wondered if the Gatekeeper was watching now.
    “We’ve only got about ten minutes,” Rosie said, bringing her back to the task at hand.
    “Okay. Okay. I’ll look through all the stuff on the table, and you rummage through
     the drawers.”
    Rosie nodded in agreement and moved directly to thedresser. She sat on the bed and opened the first drawer. Before Jordan even made it
     to the table, she spied the box labeled with the Sinfully Sweet logo. Unable to resist,
     she took off the lid and let out a squeal at the site of huge chocolate brownies,
     each individually wrapped.
    “Shh,” Rosie cautioned.
    “Sorry. Chocolate messes with my brain.” She turned her attention back to the goodies.
     “So, Little Miss Hope-you-like-my-salmon Marsha did get the Kahlúa brownies, after
     all,” she said, more to herself than to Rosie. “Wonder what she had to promise to
     get them.”
    “We don’t have time for that, Jordan. Hurry,” Rosie admonished.
    Who doesn’t have time for chocolate?
Jordan thought as she unwrapped one of the brownies and shoved half of it into her
     mouth. The sensation she got from the Kahlúa and chocolate flavors was enough to send
     her over the edge.
    “Jordan, hurry up.”
    Rosie’s impatient voice caused her to jump, and she quickly popped the other half
     of the brownie into her mouth before opening the top file on the table. The file contained
     a lot of recipes but nothing that would implicate either Marsha or Casey in any wrongdoing
     in Stefano’s death—assuming there even was a wrongdoing.
    “Sweet Jesus!”
    Jordan stopped chewing and spun toward Rosie, who was now holding up a small bottle
     and grinning like