With a grin, he said, “Sí, I am like the Superman-” He leaned forward and leered at me, but I knew he was teasing. As I laughed, he said, “But really my job is to take care and clean parts of the engines.”

Bingo.

“Well, Superman Eddie, that sounds interesting. I can’t imagine how huge the engines must be to run a ship like this.” I chuckled and took a swig of my beer. “The biggest engine I ever saw was under the hood of my Volvo.”

We both laughed.

Eddie got up and reached out his hand to me. “Come, Paulina, I will show you a big engine.”

“That’s not like ‘come to my place and I’ll show you my etchings’ is it?” I grabbed his hand and stood up.

Eddie laughed. “I am married. My wife and children, three of them, live back in Ecuador. I send them money and go home when I can.”

Phew. At least I didn’t have to play up to Eddie to get to see the downstairs. “That’s great. Lead the way, Motorman.”

We said goodbye to the rest of the crew and Eddie told Rico what our plans were.

“Sounds like the highlight of your trip, amore.”

Better than a murder in my cabin, I thought, but said, “I’m really excited to see the workings of this thing!”

In true gentlemanly fashion, Eddie gave me the grand tour, introducing me to all the crewmembers as we met them. Several were engineers who worked the gigantic computerized ivory panel opposite a wall of pale green with switches, knobs and red lights running the entire length. The room was very narrow, but I guessed that made it easier to see the panel from the other side.

Eddie seemed animated when he gave me the tour-and, although I kept looking for locks that the key might fit, I was actually enjoying myself. It was amazing what it took to power this ship. I’d love to be down there when the ship actually set sail in the morning.

Hopefully I would have some information before tomorrow.

“And this is where I work,” Eddie said proudly.

“Neat.” I looked around the sparkling-clean room. There was a chugging sound and an oily smell. The area had several levels, with iron grid walkways leading to parts of what Eddie called the “heart of the ship.”

“Looks as if you keep the place spotless.”

He beamed with pride. “Gracias, Paulina.”

I looked at my watch and realized it was getting late. Not a night person, I would be hard-pressed to get up tomorrow if I didn’t get my eight hours of beauty rest. I yawned.

“Oh, boy. Someone is tired.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll head back.”

“I’ll walk you to the infirmary area. It is not too easy to find your way around here sometimes.”

Thankful, I smiled, but in reality planned to ditch Eddie to snoop around. What better excuse than to say I got “lost” if someone found me?

Just then, a crewmember in a royal blue jumpsuit came up the steps. “Oh, Eduardo. Perfect timing. David needs to find the tools that he claims were left near the number-two generator. Have you seen them, man?” The guy nodded politely at me when he finished speaking to Eddie.

There is a God.

Eddie made a quick introduction and let me convince him that I could find my way “home.” Soon I was outside the engine room with the key pressed into my hand-inside my pocket.

Kris had been correct. There were plenty of doors around here that had key locks instead of card keys. I took out the key, said a fast prayer and started to turn door handles. If they didn’t open, I stuck the key in and tried to turn. After an hour, I really was lost and had seen enough closets and supply rooms to last a lifetime.

It seemed as if I’d passed the engine room three times, but no one was around to give me directions-and believe me, I wasn’t above asking. I thought of Jagger and smiled to myself. He’d never admit to being lost or ask how to find his way.

Suddenly I missed him. Not for help with my case-since I was proud I’d gotten this far-but more…as a friend. Working crime was a lot of common sense, which was something I had.

I walked to the end of the hallway and stopped. Which way to take? Down the right corridor several guys were working on changing light bulbs in the ceiling fixtures. The left corridor was empty.

I took the left.

All the doors were numbered and labeled, which I thought was for fire purposes. Someone would need to know that information to find the area on such a large vessel. With the key still in my hand, I turned knobs as I went along.

Three were locked doors but my key didn’t fit. At the end of the hallway was the emergency exit and a door leading to a set of stairs. But underneath the stairs was an unmarked door. Paint peeled a bit on the wall near the door. Seemed odd on a ship that was kept so top notch.

Actually, the peeling looked like a little dolphin. How appropriate. I could use it as my marker for where to resume my search for what door the key fit.

After three more yawns, I gave up tonight’s search. I mimicked Scarlet O’Hara in my head with “Tomorrow is another day,” and then started up the stairs.

I heard footsteps coming down toward me.

Shoot. I really didn’t feel like taking the time to explain what the heck I was doing here. So I turned and flew down the stairs and toward the unmarked room. I grabbed the handle and turned. Nothing. Damn!

Now two people were talking. Male voices. I stuck the key in the lock, said, “Come on, Saint Theresa, give me a break here,” and turned.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

I stepped into the darkness and hid there, holding the door open just enough to see the two crewmembers walk past. Phew again. When they left, I opened the door, allowing the bright light of the corridor to highlight the room.

“Oh…my…God.”

Fourteen

Stella Sokol always used to tell us kids that prayers were not always answered and there is a good reason why. However, she was never able to give us any reason other than “because they are or they are not.”

Sensing that I was alone, I flipped on the light switch and looked at the room I’d taken refuge in.

Saint Theresa had come through like gangbusters.

I said a quick thanks and walked into the tiny space to observe a bed, which looked as if it’d been squeezed into the tiny place, and an olive drab duffel bag lying on the floor with clothing spewing out. What originally caught my attention was the pair of white sneakers, a pair of white slacks and a white shirt with the epaulets on the shoulders-exactly like mine.

Exactly like Rico’s, Betty’s and Kristina’s.

A crew nursing uniform.

Aman’s.

Remy Girard’s.

I leaned closer to a box that was turned upside down for a makeshift table. Framed in brass and silver was the photo of Jackie, Betty and Remy-all smiling-and him wearing a salmon-colored tee shirt that said BERMUDA on the front in bold yellow.

Remy Girard was indeed alive and living on this ship!

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp although I felt sure no one was around to hear me. After my hand stopped shaking, I decided I needed to report my find to the safety officer and in turn the FBI. But first I took a few shots with my beeper camera. Remy easily could have killed Jackie and no one would have known, since he was missing and thought dead. He must have kept the extra key in the kitchenette in case he lost one or had to jump ship and come back in disguise.

How clever the guy must be.

Clever enough to be running an insurance-fraud scam from the bowels of the Golden Dolphin-and nearly getting away with murder.

It only took me forty-eight minutes to find my way back to the main body of the ship and to ask where the safety officer’s office was. A few times I had to duck into the nearest open door when I thought I heard someone behind me. No one could be following me, because, after all, how could they know who I was? Before I knew it, I was telling William Benoit, the safety officer; the captain and the FBI suits about my find. I told them who I really was and turned over the key to the blond one.