“Sure,” he said, locking his fingers together and cracking his knuckles.

Rad went to the liquor cabinet and poured two sherries.

She handed him one and said, “What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

He chuckled. “You’re still going on about her?”

“What’s her name?”

“Why?”

“Maybe I know her.”

“Why would you know her?”

“You know how cliquey Colombo can be among certain circles.”

“You don’t know her,” he assured her.

“So tell me her name,” she insisted.

“Jacqueline DeSilva. She’s a reporter for the Daily Mirror.”

Rad was immediately on her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Googling her.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, throwing her words back at her.

“I’m curious, that’s all. Is this her?” She showed Marty the photo she’d found. It was the one Jacky used in her bylines.

He nodded.

“She’s pretty. Did she break up with you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Entertain me.”

“We were incompatible, that’s it.”

“That’s not complicated. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Do you want to go out somewhere?”

“You’re changing the topic?”

“How about Beach Wadiya?”

“My Lord, you mean you’re serious about actually setting foot off this ship? You’re not going to burst into flames when you touch land, are you?”

“I go to Wadiya once a week. It’s where we met, if you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten. Fine, let’s go—”

“Hello?” someone called.

∆∆∆

Marty and Rad went to the gangway. The silhouette of a woman was visible down on the pier. She waved, saying, “Ahoy, mateys!”

“Bloody Christ,” Marty muttered. He couldn’t see Jacky’s face, but he recognized her voice. “Wait here,” he told Rad, and stalked down the gangway. At the bottom, he unclasped the “PRIVATE: NO BOARDING” sign hanging on a chain and stopped in front of Jacky. She had always reminded him of a bird of prey, her nose beakish, her eyes quick and sharp.

“Good evening, Dr. Murdoch,” she said, a smile lifting the ends of her lips and dimpling her cheeks.

“What are you doing here, Jacky?” he demanded. “I told you we could talk tomorrow morning.”

She peered past him. “Do I know her…?”

“No, you bloody don’t.”

“She looks familiar. Why don’t you invite her down?”

“We’re heading out.”

“Stop being so damn stubborn, Marty!”

“I’m being stubborn, Jacky? You’re stalking me!”

“Why don’t you want to hear what I have to tell you?”

“We haven’t spoken in three years. I’m sure whatever you have to tell me can wait another day.”

“It really can’t.”

“Do we have a child?”

Jacky stared at him before bursting into laughter.

“Right,” he said, turning away from her.

“I’m missing all the fun, it seems,” Rad said, coming down the gangway and blocking his way up it.

“Let’s go,” Marty told her.

She stopped next to them. “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s so amusing?”

Jacky said, “Marty believes I’m here to tell him he’s the father of my child.”

Rad chuffed. “Being the prolific lover that Marty is, I’m sure it’s hard for him to keep track of just how many children he has fathered.”