While I stood there stunned, the door opened and Jagger walked in wearing his black jeans, a black tee and his sunglasses on his head.
As delicious as he looked in the Bermuda shorts, this was my Jagger.
He motioned for me to come to the side of the room.
Topaz gave him the once-over and said, “I have to go fax this.” After one more look at Jagger, she left.
“Some old lady hit Uncle Walt because he wouldn’t…er…spend time with her.”
Jagger’s eyes darkened. “Is he all right?”
I smiled at his concern for my uncle. Jagger had a special spot in his heart for the old man and even let him drive his SUV on occasion-when at his age, Uncle Walt shouldn’t have been driving at all.
“Some of these passengers are…whackos,” he said.
“Yeah. Oh, I’m off duty now so we can start working the case. We’ll be docking in Miami pretty soon, so lots of the passengers will get off for a few hours. We might have better luck snooping together-”
“I’m afraid you’re on your own, Sherlock.”
Thirteen
I’m afraid you’re on your own, Sherlock?
I waited a few seconds to process the meaning of what Jagger had said. No clue. What the hell did he mean? “What are you talking about? On my own?”
“Darling Bobbie got me fired. Made your buddy Hunter’s day, I’m sure. I’m off the ship in Miami, lock, stock and barrel.”
“Whaaat?” I meant to say that Hunter was not my buddy, but couldn’t get it out. Couldn’t get anything coherent out. Jagger was leaving? “Whaaat?” I repeated.
He touched my chin, lifting my jaw shut. “Hunter fired me after Bobbie Lee gave him a piece of her mind.”
“So she has nothing left, then.”
We looked at each other and laughed-although I really wasn’t in a laughing mood after that bomb he’d just dropped on me. “They can’t do this to you. You’re a passenger, for crying out loud.” Then I thought of my threat to Anna Bell.
“It’s a private cruise line, Sherlock. They make their own rules for certain things. They can and did do what the hell they want. After all, I’m not a paying passenger.”
I bit my lower lip before it had a chance to quiver.
Jagger took me by the shoulders. “You can do this on your own, Sherlock. You can.”
For a second, I actually believed him. I puffed out my chest and stood taller. “Yeah, I can,” I said, and then realized it was a lie.
Even knowing Goldie and Miles were onboard for emergencies, I wanted Jagger around too. Some girls had their comfort food, like mashed potatoes and gravy or chocolate or wine, but me, I had…my Jagger.
He took me into his arms and held me for a long time. When he let go, he leaned forward and kissed me. On the lips.
And I was so damned glad I’d let him.
And for one magical moment, I believed everything would be all right.
“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Goldie shouted when I told him and Miles about Jagger getting kicked off the ship.
They wrapped me in a group hug, reminding me that they would be there for me. Much more available than they had been. I looked at their lean, sun-tanned bodies and said, “I can’t ask you guys to give up your vacation. Not even a little bit of it. I’m going to be all right on my own.”
They glared at me.
Goldie bit down on his pinky fingernail, today a royal, ocean blue.
“Jagger said so.”
They paused then nodded. “Go for it, Suga.”
I winked and told them I wanted to see Jagger one more time before he left the ship to fly back to Hope Valley. I would have thought an emptiness should settle in my insides now, but I actually felt pretty good. I touched the necklace of pepper spray Jagger had given me and symbolically told myself it would give me strength and the knowledge to finish this case…alone.
My friends offered to go watch the passengers leave the ship and see if we could find Jagger, but I said I’d be fine on my own.
Soon I stood on the upper deck, watching all the activity below. Passengers disembarking. Cabs honking to get fares, and loading and unloading of supplies from the side of the ship.
Several security people were obviously keeping very close tabs on who left the ship. The dock bustled with so much activity that my head hurt flipping it back and forth to search the crowds for Jagger.
When the last of the passengers left, I started to turn, disappointed that I’d missed him. Then I noticed two security officers walking down the plank with a man in between. Even from this distance I could tell it was my buddy.
My Jagger.
No one else had that good a physique from the back. A cab sat waiting at the curb, and I became angry that they were treating him like some kind of criminal. I pictured the Lee women falling overboard and made a mental note not to get too close to Bobbie when on the decks for fear that my fantasy would come true-at the touch of my fingertips.
“Bye,” I whispered.
As if he could hear, Jagger turned around, zoomed in on me, gave me a salute of encouragement and mouthed, “You can do it, Sherlock.”
After a shaky wave to him, I watched the cab drive off with my sometimes partner inside. It wouldn’t surprise me if I got an email in a day or so, checking up on me.
What a guy.
I treated myself to a Coors Light after watching Jagger leave. Most of the passengers had disembarked at the Miami port for several hours. When I looked around the Bottlenose Lounge, an eerie feeling took over.
Other than myself and Edie, who was busy restocking the supplies along with several other crewmembers, there was only one man, reading a book, sitting in the lounge near the tank.
Johnny, Jake and Gilbert swam lazily around in circles. Even they must have sensed the quiet of the ship. I looked at the bar staff and decided they weren’t going to be of any help. I had to get back to work. So I finished my Coors and left a tip for Edie, then walked toward the tank. Without touching the glass, I put my hand up as if to wave.
Gilbert swam over, his eyes saddened while he nuzzled the glass. I had to smiled. “Atta boy.”
Atta girl, Sherlock.
Damn. Jagger always said that to me when I did something right during a case. I shook the cobwebs of nostalgia out of my head, actually did wave to Gilbert and turned to leave.
“Interesting creatures,” the man sitting near the tank said as he set his book down on the table.
“Oh. Yes, they are.” I really wasn’t in the mood to give him my zoology lesson about the buffeo dolphins. Besides, by the looks of him, he probably already knew more about them than I did.
Looking very much the professor, with wire-rimmed glasses, a houndstooth jacket with suede patches on the elbows and a peppered gray-and-brown beard to match his shoulder-length hair, he came across as being quite the scholar.
I froze on the spot. Jagger! He’d been known to disguise himself and show up at the opportune time. I leaned near and said, “You dog, you. And here I thought you were gone!”
The man looked at me as if I were “gone.”
“Pardon me, ma’am?” He eased back a bit.
I pulled the chair next to him with my foot and flopped down. “How the heck did you manage that? Getting back and changed so fast? You are a Houdini, for sure.”
I went to slap him on the back, but he pulled away. “What? Well, I never. You’ll have to leave or I’ll call someone.”
I winked at him.
I leaned even closer to whisper but bit my tongue when I noticed the pale blue eyes, which certainly were not contacts. Oops. I realized my error. How to get away without being reported to security?
“Henry, right?”
He hesitated. “No. Jonathan. Jonathan Wentworth.”
“Oh my.” I laughed and flew up from my seat. “I’m so sorry. I’m mistaken. You look very much like Henry…Tan…Tanker from New Jersey.”