Dinner last night was a triumph;  Salmon  Escalopes in Lemon and Caper Butter. Everyone loved it only Tom gave it the evil eye and muttered just loud enough for me to know he didn’t like it; not loud enough that I could make out what he said. Cops! *rolls eyes*

Something sinister though, might have been afoot. The galley reeked to high heaven of bleach but not a trace was found.  There was a trail of tiny ash mounds at 3-foot intervals leading from the stove all the way up to the cabins. A quick rummage through the garbage bin revealed a crushed Silk Cut package and numerous butts. John?!? No!! Why would he? Unless...!! It had to be! 


I knew it! He was playing mind games with me -  trying to wreck my dinner and throw off the scent. Why that pseudo French son of a so-and-so! He was still on board .... but where? Luca is not going to like this; or John for that matter. The thought ofJohn taking aim at Knowsfood with a dragon’s breath thrower, going “Go ahead Francophile foodie punk, make my day”, certainly made my evening.

“So you want your job back, do ya??! Do ya?!” I yelled, at no one in particular, turning round in circles, in case he was behind me, with a cleaver in hand. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember how to deliver a roundhouse kick. Two years of martial arts training, down the drain.  “You better hope John or Tom don’t catch up with you!”

I grabbed a pen from the drawer and scribbled frenziedly on the post-it pad, my other hand clenched so tightly around the handle of a meat bat, my knuckles were turning white. On my way out, I stuck the note on the fridge door. I knew he was still around, lurking.

“Call me Knowsfood  - if you’re too chicken to tell me to my face. Now I really need someone here from Friday, for the next two weeks, ok? You got that?  Two weeks! Call me!!”