Guess anyone’s death would cause those feelings.

“Ms. Sokol, arrangements have been made to move you from this cabin,” the Captain said. “Since it is now a high-seas crime scene, and Ms. Arneau was also American, the FBI is on its way. You have to leave.”

Gladly, I thought, if I ever want to sleep again.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “the only available space is a bit farther from the infirmary. We like our nurses close to it. In the morning we will do some juggling. For tonight, you can sleep in Room 1112. With the full ship that we have, it is our only empty stateroom. The crew’s purser, Mr. Bernard, will get you the key. He handles all the crew’s needs and problems.”

I already knew that and thought, Great, I’d be close to Goldie and Miles. Good. I could use them about now. Jagger leaned near and smiled.

I had already been questioned over and over by the captain and the safety officer from the ship sometime during my carpet-staring hour. “I’m guessing the FBI is going to want to talk to me too,” I said to Jagger.

He nodded. “I understand they’re being brought out by helicopter. Go to your new room and rest until they arrive. I’ll get someone to help with your stuff after the FBI is done.”

Yikes! I’m sure they were going to “go through” all my stuff too. Damn. At least I’d learned from my mother to keep all my clothes neat and clean at all times. One never knew when they’d become the source of an investigation. Of course that’s not why my mother used to warn us to wear clean undies. Had more to do with getting into an accident and embarrassing her when the medical staff saw them.

I hoped the Feds would let me have my belongings soon, and I also hoped that Jagger wouldn’t be the one moving my “unmentionables.” But I didn’t have the energy to argue right now.

Even though I’d been used to death and dying in my nursing career, seeing Jackie’s lifeless body was a whole different ball of wax. She was, after all, murdered. Only a few hours ago I’d been talking to her, watching her paint her nails. It all seemed so surreal now.

Who killed Jackie, and why?

Did the medical-insurance fraud have something to do with her death?

Was there a connection and, if so, what did that mean for my case…and my safety?

Jagger took my arm and guided me to the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you to Deck Eleven.”

In my numb state, I could barely feel his touch, but found it comforting. Once we were alone on the elevator, I said, “She had to have something to do with the fraud to be murdered.”

“What do you have to go on?” He poked the button for Eleven.

Through the glass-enclosed back of the elevator, I watched the floors below becoming smaller and smaller. The purple and gold became a blur until the bell rang, indicating we were at our stop. Jagger held the door and stepped to the side so I could get out.

Thank goodness Claude had given Jagger the key. After he opened the door, I looked inside and gasped. “Wow. Nice place.” All I wanted to do was collapse on the bed.

Too bad I can’t enjoy it, I thought.

I sat on the stuffed beige chair near the bed and shoved off my heels. In all the commotion, I’d forgotten how much my feet hurt. I would give anything to have my nightie to slip on right now. I felt so uncomfortable, all dressed up. But if the FBI arrived during the middle of the night to question me, I’d want to be properly dressed.

I looked up to see Jagger seated on the couch near the balcony. “You asked me something, but I’ve already forgotten what. Sorry.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’re upset, Sherlock.” His use of my nickname made me feel better. “I asked you what fact told you that Jackie was involved in the fraud, leading to her murder.”

I stared at him a few seconds. “Nothing really, other than instinct.” I waited for him to curl his lips or comment about not having facts, but right now I could care less about that reaction.

“And?”

Hmm. “Okay. And she was evasive about a few things, and just gave me the impression that she was involved in something. Besides, Remy went to school with her and maybe he’s dead too.”

“I trust your gut, Sherlock. Get to sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I yawned. “Good plan. See you tomorrow.” I looked at him and then at the door. “Please make sure the door locks on your way out.”

He leaned back on the couch, lifting his feet over the end. “I’m not going out.”

Gulp. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind. Now Jagger was going to be here. I looked at him and normally would argue the point that I could take care of myself, but instead I said, “Thanks.” With that, and after throwing a pillow and blanket to Jagger, I snuggled under the covers of the bed, clutching my pink necklace.

Maybe when I woke, this would all have been a bad dream.

Knock. Knock.

My eyelids fluttered open. Darkness surrounded me, along with a soft snoring. Jagger. I looked toward the door.

“Ms. Sokol, it is Captain Duarte. The FBI agents are here to talk to you.”

Couldn’t they wait until morning? I thought the ship’s security officer had launched a very thorough start to the investigation, and had accepted my ironclad alibi.

“Ms. Sokol!” the captain’s voice seemed less patient.

A murder onboard had to be a nightmare for him. I started to shove the covers off, but before I could, Jagger was up and standing at the door.

He opened it and said, “Easy does it. She’s been through a lot.”

I hugged my pillow and smiled. Then I threw off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Good thing I had on my real clothes. Not too comfortable for sleeping, but modest enough to be questioned in despite the wrinkles.

The captain introduced me to several men, who asked all kinds of questions. They wore suits, and I figured if it were daytime they’d have on the clichéd sunglasses of the agents.

One was very tall with light hair, and probably would have a nice smile if he weren’t so solemn. He was a looker. The other I barely noticed.

For a few seconds, I looked past them at the windows to see the sun peeking out over the horizon and longed for a cup of tea as I explained what little I knew about Jackie.

No, I hadn’t seen her with anyone other than Betty and myself. I actually hadn’t seen her out of the cabin. She never told me anything much except the little bit about Remy. The taller man, with blond hair, questioned me as if I were a suspect.

I had no motive other than she had painted her toenails on my bed, I wanted to shout. But I kept my cool despite my exhaustion, thinking I’d make myself look guilty if I got agitated.

You didn’t want to appear on the wrong side of the law in front of the FBI. They made you feel guilty even when you weren’t. At least, the blond J. Edgar Hoover did.

Finally they all left and Jagger looked at me. “How about some coffee?”

“I don’t think they have a Dunkin Donuts onboard.”

He smiled at the mention of “our” favorite coffee joint, and I realized I couldn’t wait to get back to Hope Valley. Maybe I really was just a hometown kinda gal and never should have accepted this case on the high seas.

Especially since now a murder had been committed.