Benadryl that Neal had “encouraged” me to take.

All right, I’d been in this situation before. Facing the murderer and probably fraud criminal too. But despite my getting through it unscathed before, my mind was so woozy that I couldn’t remember what I’d done.

So I said a silent prayer.

Neal grabbed my arm. “Get up.”

“I’m cold. At least let me stick my jeans back on.” I tried to pull away, but he held me tightly. I told myself I should poke his eyes with my nails, but the damn antihistamine really had done a number on me and I could barely focus.

Why was I so vain that I didn’t want to barf in front of a hunky doctor?

“What are you doing, Neal? I thought we were…I mean…I really wanted to-” I leaned forward and whispered in his ear (all the while fighting back the nausea my words caused), “-make love to you. Real hot, naughty nurse sex, I’m talking.”

Long shot. Sure. But a guy was a guy was a guy.

For a few seconds he started to cave. I could feel him stiffening next to me so I continued prostituting myself in order to…live…and stiffen him.

I kissed him behind the ear and his grip loosened.

Sometimes survival was all out sickening.

“Neal, what happened? I mean, I thought you were younger than you appear.” I ran my fingers through his hair and nearly groaned in disgust. But a girl had to do what a girl had to do to get out of this treacherous situation. “Um, not that you still aren’t a hunk,” I lied, trying to appeal to his vanity.

He started kissing me back.

Bingo.

I swallowed hard so bile wouldn’t rise up in my throat. When faced in a life or death situation, I realized it was an out-of-body experience and pretended this really wasn’t me.

It wasn’t me he was kissing.

It wasn’t my neck he was breathing heavily on.

It wasn’t me Neal would have sex with-then flip overboard.

It was me thinking over my dead body.

But I did keep my mind on the problem at hand, all the while fighting like hell to stay coherent. I knew I could never take him, especially on the Benadryl jag, so I had to keep my wits about me and use my brain.

“What is really going on, sweetie? You were kinda scaring me for a few minutes.” I tried to chuckle, but it came out a strangled sound.

He eased back as he tried to undo the buttons on my top.

To buy time, I took his fingers from the clothing and kissed each one very slowly and deliberately. Ick.

“It has to end, Pauline. It has to end,” he whispered near my ear.

He wasn’t talking finger kissing, that much I was certain-and hoped to hell that I wasn’t the “it” he’d just mentioned. “What, Neal? What has to end?”

Slowly his hands relaxed and he eased me down on the bed. But thank goodness he balanced himself on his arms. Then he looked so very odd. Almost as if in another world. Neal really wasn’t with me right then as he said, “The deception. The killing. My own brother.”

My heart stopped.

When it started again, my hands were shaking so badly I worried Neal would notice. Don’t show fear to the enemy became my motto-although it was much easier to repeat in my head than to actually do. “Deception?” The killing could wait since I figured out that he must have pushed Ian off the cliff. But was Ian his brother? How to get away from this wacko?

“I told Mother this could never work. She’s never left me alone in my life. Never.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling onto my chest.

How I wanted to push him away before I vomited, but my strength hadn’t returned despite the adrenaline that pulsed through my body. Besides, Neal had gotten me confused. Mother? In past cases I’d learned to get the murderers, who usually loved to brag, to confess more and more once they got on a roll.

Neal was almost there.

And Neal was no longer rational.

The question was, what the hell would I do with the information since getting off this yacht alive looked…like a slim chance.

For a second I shut my eyes and prayed again, asking Saint Theresa for a miracle.

Neal looked up, his tear-filled eyes eerily glassy. He wasn’t seeing me any longer. But he was still talking.

“She should have stayed in Europe where she could have made a life for us. Damn her for dragging me here. I could have been a doctor in Austria and never gotten into this mess.”

This mess? I needed to know more about this mess. “I’m not following, Neal. Mess?”

He didn’t acknowledge me talking, but as if in a trance continued, “Killing Ian because the fool fell in love with Mr. Perlman.”

I gasped. My Goldie!

On one hand it was handy that Neal had snapped and started confessing, but on the other…I sure didn’t like his admissions.

Neal shifted his weight from one arm to the other. I glanced down to see he was in no “readiness” for sex (thank you, Saint Theresa), so I didn’t try to push him off but lay there listening.

“Because they are gay?” I asked, fishing for clues.

Neal scowled at me. “Because Ian’s loyalty shifted. He was going to risk our moneymaking surgical scheme for love. Love. Ha!”

I tried to weed through what he’d said, clearly admitting to the fraud, yet what else?

“Mother could have been set for life if she could only control herself.”

“Control,” I muttered in a subliminal sort of way so as not to pull Neal from his rambling.

He relaxed a bit, crushing into my chest, but I took a long deep breath and remained silent. “I did all that surgery on her, and when she came to America and married Chandler I was nearly twenty…”

Chandler? Olivia Wheaton-Chandler was Neal’s mother!

Wait a minute! Nearly twenty? That would make Neal closer to fifty than thirty. Eek! I shivered at the thought. Thank goodness we didn’t do more the other day, but too bad it was so dark, I would have noticed that he was older then.

“What happened to Chandler?”

Neal looked at me oddly, as if I should have known. “Heart attack is what the autopsy said.” He grinned an evil look, and I knew he and Olivia had probably given Mr. Chandler some medication to cause the attack-so she could get all his money. How convenient to have a doctor for a son. One who could invent a person. No wonder Adele couldn’t find anything about Olivia’s earlier life.

There was no Olivia.

Probably Olivia-not even her real name, I imagined-married for money-and murdered for the same.

“Your mother looks much younger.” I didn’t expound since I wanted to just shift his direction. The locket was still too far out of reach. Damn it.

In a rather testy tone he said, “You know I am a board certified, exemplary plastic surgeon. Mother has a penchant for younger men. Mother needs to be kept happy.”

I’ll just bet. So Olivia was made to look younger and younger but in a very clever way so as not to attract attention to her-and so she attracted young guys like Devin. Men and money. What a combo.

“Did she love Devin?” I asked, holding my breath as if Neal would snap out of this episode and strangle me in a second.

“Ha, that bastard. Olivia doesn’t love anyone. She uses him as much as he uses her. But the bastard spent way beyond their means and…that’s why I had to step in to take care of Mother.”

Made me wonder why he didn’t just “off” Devin. Maybe Mommy put the kibosh on that idea so she could keep her boy toy. Eeeeeeyew.

So, Neal was committing fraud so that his mother could live her life of luxury. But what about Forsyth Manor?

“Where did you get your house from?” At first I even stunned myself with that question, but faced with death, I figured I had nothing to lose. Then I had a thought: Maybe my cell would work out here, and I could at least leave a voice mail for Jagger.

Jagger.

Tears seeped out of the corners of my eyes. I refused to allow myself to think of any of my loved ones-as that would be my undoing. Nope. I had to keep my wits about me, fight the damn Benadryl and find out everything from Neal.