Cupcake Chaos and Cruises: A Cruise Ship Cozy Mystery (Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries Book 13) by A.R. Winters

Author:A.R. Winters [Winters, A.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Iwas hurrying down the staff corridor that lead from the ship’s offices to the Cabin’s Club restaurant—one of the most exclusive places on the ship.

I’d gone to Ethan’s office hoping to surprise him with my punctuality before dinner but he hadn’t been there. Which meant he was probably already waiting for me in the dining room. With the Vice Captain, no doubt.

“Ugh,” I groaned to myself as I hurried down the tile floor, my noisy high heels click-clacking and echoing so loudly that it sounded like some kind of wild stampede. “How is it that I’m technically early but still somehow running late?”

“Addi!” A voice boomed behind me, nearly making me trip as I turned and skidded to a stop. “Adrienne!”

I quietly groaned again and took a deep breath. “Hi, Max,” I waved to the head chef who was stomping toward me with an angry look on his face—a look that was mirrored by his sous chef, Gregg. Not that those looks were anything unusual, since I couldn’t remember a time when I’d seen Max in particular without an angry look on his face. “I really can’t talk right now because Ethan is—”

“That doesn’t matter,” he waved a dismissive hand. “We don’t need to talk. I just need you to give me my mixer. Right now.”

He punctuated the last word with a snap of his fingers that made me suck in a sharp breath and remind myself that he was probably a nice man—someone’s son or father or husband, maybe—under all of that annoying bluster. He was just having a bad day.

Week.

Month.

Life.

And yes, maybe he was taking it out on me at the moment, but I also knew that it wasn’t about me.

Still, it was difficult not to feel a surge of irritation as he snapped those fingers in my direction.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Max,” I began in the calmest tone I could muster. “That mixer is evidence in a murder case. The police are probably going to inspect it when we get back to port.”

“When we get back to port?” Max shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “How am I supposed to make any desserts? What am I supposed to do for the rest of the cruise?”

“Well,” his assistant, Gregg, tentatively began. “We might still be able to keep up with the demand if—”

“No.” Max made a chopping motion with his hand. “Absolutely not. We can’t keep up with the demand right now and I’m not about to start bending over backwards trying to accommodate some ridiculous investigation. There won’t be another tray of desserts leaving my kitchen until I get that mixer back.”

Gregg and I both sighed at the same time and I felt my shoulders start to slump. I seriously didn’t have time to soothe Maxim’s bruised ego or hurt feelings or overworked hands. Not tonight.

“Did you ever stop to think that the investigation might go a little smoother—and quicker—if you helped it along?” I asked in a tone that was probably a little more pointed than absolutely necessary.

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