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!
I looked at the Fed. “Thanks for the help. Yes, I like my beer in the bottle, not from a can, and get up and dance with me. Now!”
She was approaching like a tugboat at full speed.
Mr. Macho Fed didn’t have time to think, to argue or to decline. Forget the fact that I was tugging on him. He got up, placed his hand on the small of my back and followed me to the dance floor.
As we passed my mother on the way, I heard, “Please, God, let this one work out for a change, and don’t have him like boys.”
Fifteen
I looked to see my parents getting up and walking toward the door, so I pulled away from my “dance” partner. “Thanks.”
“Hold on. You got me out here. Now you have to finish.”
Speechless, I stood there getting bumped by the passengers while I thought of an excuse. Nothing. Nada. I couldn’t get away. So, I moved closer, Harwinton took me into his arms and led me around the floor.
We should be talking, I thought, feeling so awkward that I now wished I were being interrogated by Stella Sokol instead of where I was. Speaking of interrogation, I really could turn this opportunity in my favor, so I said, “I don’t suppose you’d like to share any info with me that you think might be pertinent to my case?”
He started to speak, but I waved my hand in the air and interrupted with, “I mean only what is related to the medical-insurance fraud. I’m not interested in the murder. Well-” My face started to heat up and I knew my pale complexion probably looked as if I’d spent the day in the sun. I looked at the water tank and saw Gilbert swim by.
I think he shook his head at me.
“What I meant to say was, of course I am interested in the murder. I mean Jackie was my roommate, even if for a very short time. She was human and no one should have his or her life taken away like that. Or in any way for that matter.”
“The music stopped,” he said.
I looked around the room. Oops. We were the only ones left out there. Not only had the music stopped, the band was on a break. “Why didn’t you stop me?” Now I was pissed.
He looked down at me. “I tried. Several times. You kept going on and on. And I think you know that I can’t share anything with you.”
Put in my place by a Fed. Yikes!
I yanked free of his hold. “Okay, Harwinton. Don’t think I’ll be sharing anything I find with you.”
He didn’t have to say anything. The look said it alclass="underline" You couldn’t legally get away with withholding information from the FBI. Damn.
“Thanks for the dance,” I said and turned to go toward the bar. I really needed a nice cold Coors about now.
“Tim.”
I swung around. “What? Tim? Is he some suspect or have anything to do with my case?”
He moved closer, nodded to Edie to get us each the usual drink and said, “Tim Harwinton.”
If I thought my face was red before, now it was crimson.
Damn, I thought as I made my way through the crowd, mostly to get away from Tim. He looked like a plain old Harwinton. Black suit. Short, neat hair. And when outside, I knew he always wore sunglasses. There was something about the guy that did, in fact, remind me of my Jagger.
My Jagger?
How on earth had I started thinking of him like that? I know he didn’t think of me as his Sherlock. Before I knew it, I found myself facing the table of giggly females who sounded as if they were still talking about Jagger. I shook my head and started to turn.
A set of hands covered my eyes!
My first reflex was to elbow whomever, but before I could, I heard a voice.
“Guess who?”
“Gold, I about clobbered you one.”
He let out a little squeak. “Oh, my. Oh, my. Why would you?”
I motioned for him to follow me. On the way out of the lounge I noticed Tim watching me. Great. The guy really did have a knack for making me feel like a bug under a microscope.
Outside the lounge, I took Goldie’s arm and walked him toward the elevator. “Where’s Miles?”
“Migraine.”
“Oh dear. I hope he’s all right.” I stabbed at the elevator button.
“He’ll sleep it off. That Doc Peter gave him something for it.”
I looked at my friend and realized he wasn’t in drag. Made me smile to myself. I’d always looked past Goldie’s appearance, often flamboyant as it were, and often after envying his wonderful taste. Now I hadn’t even noticed he was doing “male” today.
Gold had on beige leather slacks, a light celery silken top and light brown leather loafers. He looked adorable, and I wondered how many women had hit on him at the Sadie Hawkins dance. I know I would have if he wasn’t my roommate back home. The only one he told me about was Topaz. Actually they would make a wonderful couple.
“How was the charge for the medical service, Gold?” Before he could answer, the elevator arrived and we stepped inside with no particular direction in mind. “Where to?”
He shrugged. “How about up?”
We both turned toward the glass and watched the passengers get smaller and smaller below us. I scanned the crowds for another glimpse of Remy, but no such luck.
The door opened on the top deck. I looked at Goldie, “Sure. Why not?”
“Okay. We can stroll in the…oh…my…God.”
Goldie shrieked and grabbed me by the arm. The elevator door closed with a thud.
The empty deck lay surrounded by a fog. A circular fog like a donut. As the ship moved forward, rather slowly now, I realized, the donut moved along with it.
We looked at each other. “The Bermuda Triangle,” we both whispered.
Then we walked toward the bow, looking around as much as we could. I grabbed onto the railing, “Maybe it’s just a low-pressure system. Don’t they cause all the bad weather?” I looked up toward the gigantic things on top of the ship-not moving. I didn’t know squat about radar, but I could have sworn I’d seen them moving before.
“We’re winging it, Gold.”
He glared at me and swallowed so loudly I could hear. I patted him on the arm. “I’m sure the captain has everything in order. This probably happens all the time. Fog. Smog. As my mother would say.” I forced a laugh and said a silent prayer that my folks hadn’t noticed the odd scene outside.