Five minutes later, we eased up behind the cabin cruiser, secured the line, and scrambled out of the dingy. Emergency vehicles were on the scene four piers down. Fire and rescue. Police. Lots of people. Strobes flashing. The unintelligible chatter of police band. No one paying attention to Hooker or me. And thank goodness, no smoke or flames shooting out of the Huevo boat.

Hooker stayed back in the shadows, but I edged closer to the pier. One of the three men who’d flown in earlier stood off to the side on the cement walkway, watching the activity. I moved next to him and gestured to the boat.

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “Something came through the window and started a fire. It didn’t burn much. Everything on the boat is fire resistant.”

I was thrown for a moment. I’d expected a foreign accent. Russian maybe. His accent was New Jersey. “Wow,” I said. “Was it a firebomb?”

“I don’t know. They’re investigating. I was below in a stateroom when it happened. I didn’t actually see anything.”

I was scanning the crowd as I was talking, looking for Ray Huevo. “I can’t help noticing, you’re not wearing Miami clothes. Did you just arrive in Florida?”

He looked down at his wool suit slacks. “I flew in earlier. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me guess. Jersey?”

“Not for a lot of years.”

“But originally, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you never really get rid of the Jersey in you.”

I stuck my hand out. “Alex.”

“Simon.”

“Where are you living now?”

“The world.”

“That narrows it down,” I said.

“My employer travels, and I travel with him.”

“Is your employer originally from New Jersey, too?”

“Yeah. Originally.”

He was looking down at me, and there was a quality to his eyes and the set of his mouth that I’d seen before. It was the same look Hooker got…a lot. “And now?” I asked.

“The world.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.”

I could see him weighing his desire to stay anonymous against his desire to get a playmate for Mr. Frisky. He shifted slightly, leaned a little closer to me, and I knew Mr. Frisky was at the wheel.

“For the last couple years, we’ve been based in Zurich,” he said.

“That would explain the suit.”

“We ran into some problems when we arrived, and I haven’t had a chance to change. What about you? Do you live here?”

“Sometimes. Mostly I live in the world.”

“Trying to make fun of me?” he asked.

“Trying to flirt with you,” I said. Might as well use the few weapons I had in my arsenal, right? I just hoped Hooker was armed and keeping close watch.

That got a smile from him. “Nice,” he said.

And just for the record, I was fully aware that he would have smiled and said nice if I had scabs over two-thirds of my body and had an ass like Francis the Talking Horse.

“So, what is it that you do in Zurich?” I asked him.

“I’m an expediter.”

In my neighborhood in Baltimore, an expediter is someone who makes sure things move along smoothly. For instance, if the owner of a bar isn’t making his protection-money payments on time, an expediter might go talk to him and break his kneecaps as a performance incentive.

“An expediter,” I said. “What kinds of things do you expedite?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Making conversation. I read somewhere that men like it when you seem interested in their work.”

More smiling. “The guy I work for is in the import-and-export business. I facilitate movement.”

“What does he export? Carburetors?”

“Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere else,” he said. “Like over to the bar.”

The night’s game plan. Get the dumb chick liquored up. “Sure,” I said.

We walked a short distance and went up the stairs that led to the outdoor bar attached to Monty’s. We wrangled a couple stools and ordered drinks. I looked over Simon’s shoulder and saw Hooker watching from an alley, making signs like he was going to hang himself.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I followed Hooker down the alley and around the corner.

“What was that all about?” I asked him.

“Did you order a drink?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh man, you’re gonna get drunk, and then I’ll have to rescue you from King Kong there. He’s got about thirty pounds on me. It’s going to be ugly.”

“I’m not going to get drunk.”

“Darlin’, you’re just about the worst drinker I’ve ever seen. You get drunk on fumes when you open a bottle of merlot. What did you order? I bet you got one of those froufrou drinks with the fruit and the umbrellas.”

“I got a beer.”

“Lite beer?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Do you want me to try to get information out of this guy, or what?”

Hooker stood hands on hips. Unhappy. “The only reason I’m agreeing to this is because I know how good you are at saying no.”

I returned to the bar. “So, talk to me,” I said to Simon. “Tell me about this importing and exporting. I imagine you import and export race cars.”

“Race cars?”

“You’re visiting on the Huevo boat, so I assumed you were involved in racing.”

“Not even a little. Huevo Industries has their finger in a lot of pies.”

He was drinking Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. He slugged his down and glanced at me. I was sipping my beer like a lady. He looked like he wanted to tell me to hurry up, but he got himself under control and ordered another Jack.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I sell ladies’ undies.”

I have no idea where that came from. It just popped out. And from the expression on his face, it was a good choice. A lot better than telling him I was a mechanic, for instance.

“Like at Victoria’s Secret?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m a Victoria’s Secret lady.”

He belted back the second Jack. “I always wanted to meet a Victoria’s Secret lady.”

“Well, this is your lucky day.”

He nudged my knee with his. “I like the sound of that. How lucky do you think I’m going to get today?”

“You might get pretty darn lucky.” Not.

I swiveled on my bar stool and watched the fire truck pull out. The ambulance had already departed. The only emergency vehicle left was a lone police car. Most of the crowd had dispersed, and crew members moved around on the first deck. “It looks like everyone’s back on the boat,” I said. “Hopefully there wasn’t too much damage.”

A third Jack magically appeared on the bar.

“Wouldn’t bother me if the whole friggin’ boat went down,” Simon said. “This operation is turning into a lost cause. If it was me, I’d write it off and go home.”

“Your employer doesn’t feel that way?”

“My employer’s on a mission.”

“I bet Ray Huevo isn’t happy about this fire. I’m surprised he didn’t get off the boat with everyone else.”

“Ray isn’t here. Ray’s out of town. Him and his two clowns.”

The bartender was standing in front of us, polishing glasses. “If you’re talking about Rodriguez and Lucca, I just saw them in the parking lot. I took a bag of garbage to the Dumpster and walked past them.”

Simon turned his attention to the bartender. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, they were sitting in their car. Black BMW.”

Yes! Excellent. Hooker and I could sneak up on them and rescue Gobbles.

“I need to talk to them,” Simon said.

No! Not good. Talk could mean make them mysteriously disappear if they don’t come up with the right answers. That would hinder my ability to rescue Gobbles. And I needed the police to find Rodriguez and Lucca with the murder weapon.

“Probably just a look-alike,” I said.

“I saw the tattoo on his neck,” the bartender said.

“Lots of thugs have tattoos,” I told him. “Look at this guy next to me. I bet he’s got a tattoo.”

“Not on my neck,” Simon said. He stood and dropped a couple twenties onto the bar. “Sweetheart, I’m going to have to cut out on you.”

“Boy, that’s too bad,” I told him. “I had plans. I was going to make you real happy. I was going to do things to you that don’t even have names.”