I stood on tiptoes to see Remy still running away. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t nearly kill you.”

She grabbed my arm this time. “We taught you better manners than that, Pauline.”

“Yes…you did.” Remy was nearly out of sight. “Let go, Mother. I’m working!” I brushed her hand away and made sure she didn’t fall before I sprinted away. “Love you both!” I shouted over my shoulder.

“You too, Pączki,” Daddy said.

I looked up ahead. Now it seemed like a wall of people were covering the sidewalk. Damn.

“Make way!” I yelled and jumped down to the curb. Before some little car ran my feet over though, I was back on the sidewalk. “Pregnant lady coming through!” I shouted, thinking that was a great line for getting ahead of this mass of tourists.

The crowd parted like in some biblical movie and there sat Remy-atop a bright red moped. He gave me a wink, another salute and most likely in the fastest gear, sped past me. I reached out with my necklace and gave him a spray.

“Aye!” he shouted, spun the bike and fumbled to gain control.

“Stop him, someone!” I reached out to grab Remy’s arm, but he managed to overpower me.

I landed on my back, with the crowd gathering around, a few police shouting and Remy zooming off.

And my mother standing above me.

“Don’t give me that look, Harwinton. It really was Remy,” I said as Doc Pete put a few stitches in the back of my head.

I hoped I had a concussion, because each time I closed my eyes, all I could see was my mother staring down at me and wagging her finger.

Tim touched my arm and winced a few times as the doc sewed me up. “I know. We were on him.”

Oops.

Surely he wasn’t going to tell me that I blew a federal case, a murder case? Yikes.

“Oh, my head hurts so badly,” I lied, hoping Tim would find it in his FBI heart to ignore the fact that I might have ruined his case. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.”

He leaned near. “I’ve got seven stitches on you. So I think I win the prize for pain.”

What an agent this guy was. Even knew fake pain, or at least when a girl was trying to change the subject. Still, my head did hurt a bit. The cut was numb from the Novocain, so it wasn’t from that. I sat up with the aid of Tim, and Peter pronounced me fine.

“But you really should rest the remainder of the day, Pauline. Make sure someone wakes you up…well, you know the drill,” Doc said.

I nodded. “Ouch.”

Tim smiled. “A wise woman once told me not to shake my head after just getting a head injury.”

“Ha. Ha.” I have to go back and find my shopping bag. I threw it somewhere along the chase.

Tim leaned near, “Tell me, Pauline, what exactly were you going to do with Remy if you caught him?”

“I don’t like the way you said ‘if.’ Makes it sound as if you think it was impossible that I could catch him. You know, he thought I was a Fed.”

He chuckled. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your cabin.”

“My bag-”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go find it. Tell me what it looked like and where you saw it last.”

I explained on the way to the elevator and persisted with the fact that I was in top physical condition.

Tim grinned and leaned forward. His lips touched mine ever so gently as the bell rang and the door opened.

“Saved by the bell,” I teased.

He took me by the arm and led me inside. “You know, you really could have been hurt out there.”

“High school basketball. The nun coach used to drum into our brains how we should keep our heads up when we fell. Worked. I only bumped my head on the sidewalk once and not too hard.”

“I’m glad.” This time his lips remained longer. Felt better. Hotter. Or maybe it was me. Feverish already?

“Hey,” I eased back a bit. “How did you turn up on the street after I was pushed anyway?”

“Good tailing.”

Ding.

The damn door opened. Tim moved aside so I could pass. Then he put his hand on my lower back, and I felt safe. Despite the fact that Remy could be running loose in Bermuda, I felt safe with my Fed near me.

My Fed?

Was I nuts? The guy merely kissed me, and here I was referring to him as mine. Maybe my head was injured more than I thought.

And had he been tailing Remy-or me?

Tim and I reached my cabin in a few minutes. I knew Betty was on duty so I dug around in my pocket for my key. “Oh, shoot. My key was in my shopping bag.”

“Maybe your roommate is in?” He leaned forward and touched the doorknob.

“No, she isn’t.”

The handle turned in his hand. The door opened enough so I could see the chair by my bed…occupied.

Twenty

Oh…my…God!

“Er…no. Nope. My roomie. She’s…um…at-” I looked in my room again.

Maybe I was hallucinating.

Maybe my brain was permanently damaged.

Or, maybe what I saw in my room was real.

“Oh. Well, I guess…let’s see.” I looked in the crack of the door again to be make sure.

My “guest” waved at me.

I was pretty sure hallucinations didn’t wave.

I swallowed and turned to Tim.

“You all right? Maybe I should make sure you get some rest and come wake you-”

“Nope!”

He glared at me.

I forced a smile, stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Thanks so much. I’ll be…I’ll be…er…fine! That’s it. I’ll be fine. Please go look for my…Wait! No. No. Don’t worry about that silly bag. I don’t need it.” I gave him a gentle push toward the elevator. “Shopping bags are a dime a dozen. I’ll get another room key from the purser too. Don’t you worry about that stupid bag.”

He leaned over and kissed me back. “I’m getting worried about you.”

“Ha! It would take more than a little fall to break my noggin. I’m as hard-headed as any Polack comes.” I forced a laugh, sounding more as if I were being strangled. “Okay. I’ll see you later. No!”

“Pauline, really. Let me-”

“Oh no, you don’t, buddy. My hard-earned tax dollars are paying your salary, and I want my money’s worth.” I chuckled. “Go find that killer so the world will be a safer place. I’ll see you later.” I turned and swung back, watching the hallway spin around me. Yikes. “By ‘I’ll see you later’ I mean call me. Call me first. Okay?”

The elevator door opened. Tim stepped in. As the doors started to move, he said, “Whatever you say-if I can figure out what the hell that is.”

“Ha! Funny! You’re a real card. Funny FBI agent. Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

The elevator door closed. For a second I leaned against the wall and let out a breath. Then I pushed my door all the way open and stood there for several seconds. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Jagger merely smiled. Oh so very Jagger-like.

I finished filling Jagger in on the details of my case, leaving out that Remy pushed me down, but leaving in how I managed to pepper-spray his butt-well, half of it anyway.

“Atta girl, Sherlock.”

As proud as the proverbial peacock, I sat on the edge of the bed and felt as if I would collapse at any moment. But I told myself that I couldn’t. This case was moving fairly quickly, and as soon as Tim brought Remy in, I’d be able to question him as to who else worked with him on the fraud.

Jagger made me rest for a while since he claimed I looked pale. I had to do some maneuvering so he never got a look at the back of my head. Thank goodness Doc didn’t have to cut any of my hair to sew me back up.

Even though I felt a bit “punk” as my grandma-Babci, we called her-would say, I wasn’t able to sleep a wink. Jagger did, however, remain by my bedside, so I felt pretty darn relaxed.

“Oh, shoot,” I mumbled as someone knocked on the door-and I heard my name screeched out.

“I forgot I was supposed to meet Goldie and Miles for lunch.”

“Suga? You in there?”