Damn G-men.

By evening I was off duty and had changed into comfortable ivory slacks and a matching sleeveless top with a pastel rose painted on the front. I stuck my hair up, which always made me look older and more sophisticated or, actually, as if I were going back to work as a nurse. To change that image, I doused myself with my Estee Lauder Beautiful perfume. Feeling kind of lonely now that Jagger was gone, I decided I needed to see Goldie and Miles and check up on my folks.

I made my way up to my parents’ stateroom only to find it empty. On the door was a yellow piece of stationery that read, IF YOU ARE PAULINE SOKOL, WE HAVE GONE TO THE BOTTLENOSE LOUNGE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME. IF YOU ARE NOT PAULINE SOKOL, WE STILL HAVE GONE TO THE BOTTLENOSE LOUNGE. IF YOU ARE PAULINE SOKOL, YOU BETTER COME, AND MAKE SURE YOU ARE WITH PEOPLE TO BE SAFE. TONIGHT IS A SADIE HAWKINS DANCE, WHICH MEANS WOMEN CAN ASK A MAN TO DANCE. YOU SHOULD JOIN US. YOU WORK TOO HARD. EVEN YOU COULD ASK SOMEONE TO DANCE. DO NOT MISS THIS OPPORTUNITY.

I turned the note over and even though the printing got smaller and smaller (obviously so my mother could fit more in it to nag me), I was able to read, DADDY BOWLED A 200 TODAY, AND WE WENT SWIMMING ON THE DECK WHERE THOSE DARLING DOLPHINS LIVE. STOP WORKING SO HARD, PAULINE, AND COME MEET SOME NICE, YOUNG…

She’d run out of room before she could fix me up with some swinging single. My urge to go party had fizzled with the paper-and yes, with the knowledge that my parents would be in the same lounge. But I did want to see Goldie and Miles, since I knew my parents were okay and obviously still having a good time.

I hoped my friends were still in their room, but figured I was wasting a trip as I knocked. Nothing. Damn. I’ll bet they were at the lounge too. Neither were big gamblers, so I figured the casino was off-limits for them, and I wasn’t sure if any shows were scheduled right now. Maybe Uncle Walt could be found in the casino, unless he had more ladies to dance with now that Jagger was gone.

If I saw the Lee women anywhere near my uncle, I’d lodge a complaint with the captain-after my drink would accidentally spill on one of their heads.

Oops.

An evil chuckle snuck out as I pushed the elevator button. When I got in, there were three young women dressed to the nines, and I figured they were on their way to the lounge too. One kept talking about the “hunk” male host who was no longer on the ship. They giggled, and a skinny blonde even suggested that maybe he was thrown off for doing something devious.

They all had evil grins on their faces. I couldn’t listen or look at them any longer, knowing they were way off base about my Jagger. So I turned toward the glass section and watched the floors zoom by. In the solarium below, decorated in the ever-present dolphins-gold ones and purple ones-I saw a man hurrying by.

He was dressed in jeans and a salmon-colored tee shirt with a baseball cap hiding his face. But from here and what I’d seen in the pictures, he looked like Remy!

“Shoot!” I shouted and banged on the glass wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you, lady?” the redhead in the group asked.

I swung back to see them all staring and all showing far too much cleavage. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I stood tall and glared at them until they all turned away like frightened kids.

Good. At least I had some power over giggly twentysomethings. Suddenly though, that thought made me feel old, single and childless.

“How about that good-looking dark-haired man over there, Pauline? You are not getting any younger you know. You just had another birthday in March,” my mother said, openly pointing to a man standing near the bar.

I groaned. “I know when my birthday is, Mother. We just celebrated it last month. And that gentleman over there would come up to my chest. Besides, he has no hair. How could I run my fingers through…?”

“Pauline Sokol! You don’t have to get obscene.”

I laughed to myself. Sometimes it was fun to goad my mother along. At least I hadn’t lost my sense of humor yet. It was difficult to get over that I’d just seen Remy-a killer and body snatcher. Reluctantly, I’d called the security folks but sure as hell did not want the FBI to come. Harwinton did anyway-when there was no longer any sign of Remy or any man in a salmon tee shirt.

I’ll never forget the look the blond gave me.

Well! I’d have to solve my case soon to show him I was not some bumbling fool. I decided the guy probably was a male chauvinist who didn’t think women should be investigators or FBI agents for that matter.

Not wanting to dwell on the case and murder, I looked around the room. The girls from the elevator were dancing with each other while couples lined the walls and bar. Edie had her hands full, pouring and serving until she looked exhausted.

Several ladies walked up to men at the bar and asked them to dance. Only one looked as if he refused. When he turned around, I nearly fell off my chair.

Harwinton.

I shook my head and thought, How rude. The poor girl must have built up a lot of courage to go ask him. He was a nice-looking guy, but had zero personality as far as I was concerned. Besides, he made me feel guilty about nothing.

I took a sip of my Coors and watched him sip what I guessed was a Scotch. My mother nudged my arm. “What, Mom?”

“Go ask him.”

I looked around. “Ask who what?”

“That nice-looking man at the bar. He keeps looking at you. Go ask him to dance. It won’t kill you.”

I shuttered at the words. “No, I’d rather die than ask-”

Mother’s eyes widened and she grabbed my arm. “What are you talking about? Michael,” she said to my father, who was dozing off from too much excitement. “Michael, she said she would rather die. Why would she say that?” She turned to me before my father could process her words. “Why would you say that, Pauline Sokol? Why on earth-”

I raised my hands and jumped up. The way I saw it, I was far better off asking the Fed to dance than to listen to my mother and consequently have her pull the truth out of me as to why I’d rather die than dance with Harwinton.

Because I knew what being interrogated by my mother was like-

I approached the bar. Then I debated about running out the door and going back to my cabin, but when I looked over my shoulder, Stella Sokol had her radar set on me.

Damn.

I nodded to Edie and sat on the dolphin stool next to Harwinton. I really didn’t want to dance and hoped my mother wouldn’t come over and push the issue. “Hi, Edie. Busy night, huh?”

Harwinton stared straight ahead. I realized I didn’t know his first name, just as I didn’t know Jagger’s. Or maybe it was his last name that I didn’t know. Anyway, that coincidence was the only thing that was remotely like my relationship with Jagger.

Edie handed me a bottle of Coors without a glass. “Chicks are not good tippers,” she said and then cursed.

I smiled and gave her a generous tip.

Harwinton looked at me. “So, tough investigators take their beer straight, eh, Sherlock Holmes?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I shifted and half my butt got involved with gravity, so I started to fall.

He grabbed my arm, saving me from the complete embarrassment that I would have faced.

Sherlock!

How could he have known? Naw. He didn’t know. It was just a shot in the dark. A lucky guess. An insult to me. A…reminder of Jagger.

Harwinton was more like Jagger than I’d thought, only his hair color came from the lightest end of the spectrum while Jagger’s came from the darkest-and their faces were admittedly different, although both…not bad.

I heard a fake cough from behind me and straightened enough to see my mother in the mirror. She was getting up!