“Seasick,” she groaned, and threw up again. Oh, this was just lovely. Just perfect. Two guys had weird crushes on her and she was sexily throwing up.

“But,” Thomas was hissing in her ear, “you’re a mermaid!”

“I. Am. Aware. Now get away from me unless you want some on your shoes.”

Thomas didn’t back away. Instead he leaned on the rail beside her and rubbed her back. “Why didn’t you take any Dramamine?”

“Because I metabolize it too quickly. I’d have to take forty for it to work and even then I don’t know if—urrgghh.”

“Fascinating. And disgusting,” he added.

Now there were two hands rubbing her back. “Little Rika, perhaps we should go back and do this tomorrow when you are not ill.”

“She’s not coming back tomorrow!” Captain O’Donnell yelled from his cabin, where he and the first mate were frantically counting life jackets, flame arresters, and visual distress signals.

“Not even if you paid me a million bucks,” she snapped back. Then, quietly, “It’s no good, Artur. The same thing would happen tomorrow.”

“Uh—how are you two going to get in with me without these guys seeing it?”

“Trust me, O’Donnell will be thrilled to see me dive off his ship. As long as I stay out of his way, he could care less what Artur and I are doing.”

“You’re kidding. He’s a maniac about boat safety, but he won’t care if you—”

“He’s a manic about boat safety. Not passenger safety. Trust me.”

Thomas shook his head and went to put on his scuba suit.

Chapter Twenty-nine

They had narrowed down the suspects to the new seafood restaurant (”Cap’n Clammys!”), the new Sleepytime Hotel, and the old (but: recently massively renovated) World Trade Center. The plan was for the three of them to dive in, check out the underwater sites, pipes, and other detritus of construction, and see if they could pinpoint the bad guy. What they would do then, even if they could find a pipe pouring shit from one building, Fred wasn’t sure.

Artur favored strangling the owner until his neck cracked. Thomas leaned toward ratting them out to the EPA. Fred was torn. Surely the culprit, whoever it was, knew what he (or she) was doing. So there should be a greater consequence than a fine. But neither did she favor murder (though Artur claimed it would be a simple case of self-defense).

Talk about putting the cart before the horse, she thought, diving in beside Artur as Thomas went, in the scuba-approved fashion, over backward. First we gotta find the guy. (Or gal.) Right now, I’d settle for that.

Instantly her uneasy stomach settled and she felt loads better. She playfully gave Thomas a pinch (which he probably couldn’t feel through all the rubber) and darted past both men.

Feeling better, Little Rika?

Thomas was giving her a cautious thumbs-up.

Loads. Don’t use your telepathy to exclude Thomas. She gave him the thumbs-up back.

Do not use my what to do what?