"I must apologize, Mrs Adams," said Captain Russo, giving his most sincere smile. "The stewards weren't attentive enough at the trap shooting-"

Pacing, Laura cut him off. "Don't apologize to me, Captain! Apologize to my husband!"

Squinting through the haze of his cigarette smoke, Bill gave the captain his most intimidating glare.

Doctor Ishay was plucking large wood splinters from Bill's hand over a pan to catch his free flowing blood. "You take pain very well, sir," he said jovially.

"Yeah," rasped Bill. He kept the ship's captain pinned under his gaze. "Who did this?" he demanded.

The captain raised his hands. "Now, now, sir. I cannot expose one of our guests-"

"This guest could be dead right now if I hadn't leaned away when I did," growled Bill before taking another deep puff on his cigarette.

Laura stopped in front of the captain, her hands on her hips. "You may have heard about the threat I made to your head steward the night my husband went missing. That still stands."

Russo lowered his head. "Yes, Mrs Adams." He expelled his breath. "Brigadier Blackthorne travels with us often. I can swear to his innocence-"

"He nearly shot me," Bill pointed out.

Ishay and Russo exchanged shrugs. "He's blind as a bat," Ishay said bluntly.

"What the hell was he doing with a gun then?" asked Laura, exasperated.

"He's a frequent guest," Russo explained again.

Laura turned away, hiding her fury.

As the doctor wound a white bandage around his hand, Bill continued to stare the captain down. He saw he was getting nowhere, though. But he'd just added one more name to their list of cabins to visit.

Laura suddenly stopped her pacing and turned back to the doctor.

"Oh, doctor, I met Layne this morning by the pool. Is she going to the Moonlight Sonata Dance tonight?" she asked casually.

Doctor Ishay's face turned a violent shade of purple immediately. "You think my daughter would be doing anything on this cruise that might snare a man? She's got her long nose in a book all the time!" he roared. "I haven't even seen her yet!"

Laura raised an eyebrow in Bill's direction.

"She's come on the cruise by herself?" she asked delicately.

"Of course! She's too busy for men. A doctor!" he spit out in outrage. "They call her a doctor! Lot of damn mumbo-jumbo, if you ask me!"

Bill and Laura exchanged surprised glances.

The doctor regained control. "That'll do yah," he said, tying off the bandage. "Will you want some pain pills? A bit of morphine?"

Bill made a face. "Naw, I'll just take a slug of hooch if it bothers me." He carefully squeezed his hand shut. "Thanks, Doc. This is swell."

As Ishay cleaned up briskly, the Captain tried one more time to placate his guests. "I'll speak with the Brigadier, but I can assure you the he meant no harm."

Bill wrapped his arm around Laura and drew her close. "Trust me, he's not going to get a chance to prove otherwise."

~~AV~~

Giles Tyrol frowned over at his detective. Peter was stifling yawns behind the back of his hand. He was on his eighth cup of coffee. There were dark circles under his eyes. And they hadn't even been on the graveyard shift for over two weeks.

If anyone had told Giles a few months ago that Peter Laird would be cheating on his wife, he'd have laughed in their face. But, it seemed that even the most wholesome man's head could be turned by a pretty and available woman.

Giles sighed. Just another reason why he was never going to get married. The only woman he'd wanted to marry, he couldn't. And now she was gone...

Maybe he was wrong; perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. Or listening to Cally too much. Their young foolish secretary had been whispering in the lunch room all about the frequent phone calls Peter had been getting from a mysterious woman who refused to leave her name if he wasn't at the station.

"You're burning the candle at both ends?" he asked, concentrating on keeping the interrogatory tone out of his voice, one that surely Peter would recognize.

"I'm okay."

Chief twirled a pencil between his fingers. "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked. "Or tell me?"

"No, no," Peter answered quickly, looking away to shuffle some papers around on his desk. "Just one of the kids has been sick. We're not getting much sleep."

"So, Marie is okay?" he kept probing. "I haven't seen her in a while. You need to invite me over so she can spoil me with her marvellous home cooking."

"Sure, sure. Good idea. I'll ask her when the best night for her is."

Peter turned his back on Giles and fumbled in his pocket for his packet of cigarettes. Giles noted his partner's hunched shoulders and shaking fingers as he struck a match.

"Which kid?" Giles snapped out the question, pouncing on the opportunity.

"What?" Peter asked, turning to face him again, confused.

"Which kid is sick?"

Peter hesitated just that moment too long. "Oh, it's, um, Jimmy."

"Do you-"

Giles was cut off when one of the uniform boys from the front office entered the room.

"Chief, just had a call. The beat cops have found a woman's body out by Fort Point."

He grabbed his coat and squashed his hat down onto his head.

"No ID?" he asked.

"Nah," said the front desk officer, "nothing on her. Missing persons is running through possibilities now."

"Okay then, Pete. Let's go and check out our Jane Doe."

As they headed for the door, Giles held back Peter by grabbing his arm. "Marie's a good woman. You need to stop whatever you're doing," he ordered.

"I'm not-"

He held up his hand, not wanting to hear anymore. The evidence pretty much spoke for itself.

"I don't wanna talk about it again, Pete. It's your life; your wife. I know a lot of men mess around, but I'm just saying she's a good woman, and doesn't deserve it."

Giles walked off toward the squad car, immediately forgetting his partner's personal life and ready for his new case.

~~AV~~

Doral stormed down the deck, Paulla's tone still ringing in his ears.

"God dammit, you idiot! How could you miss?!"

"He moved at the last moment!"

"Now they will know we're after him! People don't usually have two near-fatal accidents in two days!"

"What now?" Doral had sniveled.

"Just get out of here," the nurse had stormed at him. "I need to think!"

No problem, thought Aaron as he pushed through the doors in the gentlemen's club and breathed in the heavy cigar smoke and brandy fumes.

Sinking into a bar stool, he signalled for a Scotch and accepted a large Havana cigar from the steward.

The stool beside him creaked as someone sat on it. Doral had no interest in chatting so he turned his back.

The man cleared his throat and then seemed to choke on whatever he'd raised.

Frowning, Doral snatched up his drink glass as soon as the bartender set it before him. Then he noticed it was Brigadier Blackthorne.

The older man was fiddling with his handlebar mustache nervously. He greeted Doral with insincere surprise. "By jove, it's you."

"Yes, it's me," Doral said disagreeably.

"The silliest thing's happened," blustered the military man. "The captain's accused me of trying to kill a passenger! Simply outrageous!"

"Outrageous!" echoed Doral. "Whatever would give them that idea?"

"He claims one of my shots injured this man!" The Brigadier gulped down his whiskey. "But I was hitting my clay pigeons, certainly not some poof lounging on his veranda instead of doing something manly!"

Doral made agreeable sounds, assured the blind old man that he'd personally seen him hit every pigeon, then quickly made his excuses; crippled wife needing him back at the cabin.

He hurried back to his cabin for sure, but with a different purpose in mind. A very plump pigeon had just fallen into their laps.

As he turned to go down their corridor, a face was looking at him through a porthole. It was Sesha again! He blinked, and she was gone.

He flung himself down the corridor, and pounded on the door of the porthole's cabin. No one answered. Paulla stuck her head out down the long hall.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"She's in there," he explained, wild-eyed.

"Get down here, now!" she insisted, smiling at the couple who passed her, looking disturbed by their scene.

Shoulders slumped, Doral complied. But once he was inside, he squared them. "I've got good news," he told her.

Intrigued, she lit a cigarette and listened to his plan.

~~AV~~

Laura clutched Jake's leash. "I think you should have stayed in bed," she hissed at Bill as they looked up and down the corridor before Beryl Higgins' cabin.

"And leave you to do this alone?" he rasped, then knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he slipped the passkey into the lock.

The three Adamses darted into the room and shut the door. Laura flipped on the lights. This was the least extravagant room on the Monterey, but it was still a first class accommodation. Yet somehow, it felt dull and sterile.

"This room doesn't look lived in; she must be the missing one?" Laura whispered in excitement.

"No, no," said Bill, lifting the Bible sitting on the bedside table. He flipped it open. Beryl Higgins and her confirmation date were stamped in gold on the front. There was another book beneath the Bible; The Simple People of Hawaii and their Heathen Habits.

He noticed that she'd tacked a cross over the narrow bed. "I think she's a missionary."

Laura checked the closet. Two gray wool suits hung inside. One pair of black, low-heeled sensible lace-up shoes sat beneath them. "She must be here somewhere-"

The door swung open and a plump, red-faced woman with her pale hair pulled back tightly in a bun stared at them. Then she shrieked.

Jake wagged his tail vigorously, trying to make friends.

Laura smiled and stepped forward. "Pardon us. We're the Adams and we were looking for a dear friend. Obviously we're in the wrong cabin."

"Are you Beryl Higgins?" Bill asked, needing to confirm the information despite her drab attire matching that in the closet.

"Yes, yes, but why are you in my cabin?" blathered the woman, clutching the large cross around her neck.

"I told you, we were looking for our friend, Miss Deborah Carstairs," Laura said blithely, beginning to ease toward the door. Her silent husband followed.

"But how could you get inside?" the missionary asked.

"The door was open," suggested Bill.

"I know I locked it," Miss Higgins insisted.

"Our mistake then," Laura said with a bright air, and pulled her dog and husband through the door, slamming it in the missionary's face.

As soon as it was closed, she gave Bill an exasperated look. "We've got to do a better job next time," she grumbled.

He only laughed and pulled her close. "One off the list," he rumbled in her ear.

"Let's try our good-humored doctor's daughter. He seemed to lose all gaiety when we mentioned her."

"Yeah," he agreed, and they headed for the stairs.

~~AV~~

"Oh hello there again! How's everything going? That scratch of Mrs Doral's healed up nicely?" Doctor Ishay waved the nurse into the sickbay, grinning with his awful teeth.

"Yes, thank you, doctor," Paula said demurely. "I was wondering, sir, if I could get some advice. Considering, as a doctor, you have such wide experience," she flattered, blinking prettily.

Doctor Ishay puffed out his chest, and then had to tug the front of his tunic down over his round little belly. "Yes, of course, Nurse Schaffer. Come and sit down," he suggested, gesturing to two chairs sitting side by side in front of his desk at the far end of sickbay.

"Now," he smiled encouragingly after they'd settled, his knees accidentally brushing against hers as he leaned toward her attentively. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's Mr Doral."

Paulla studied her hands that she clutched tightly in her lap.

"He's acting inappropriately?" Ishay asked, shuffling his chair away from Paulla slightly so that his knees no longer made contact with hers.

"No, no," she quickly assured him. "It's...He's..." She looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know how to explain it! I think he's...unhinged."

"Unhinged?"

"Yes. He keeps telling me his wife has been killed. Then, he tells me she's alive. I keep telling him that of course she's alive, but..."

"What does his wife say?"

"She just laughs it off. But I'm concerned, doctor. He's highly erratic. He was screaming in our corridor and thumping on the door of another cabin only this afternoon!"

"Well, it's all bad business if he's disturbing other guests. What was his mood before the cruise?"

"I don't know. I was only employed by the Dorals right before the cruise. The previous nurse left very abruptly."

"Mmm..." Doctor Ishay thought for a moment. "Do you think we should try and contact her? Mr Doral's odd temper could be quite normal."

Paulla bit her lower lip. "Perhaps," she agreed slowly. She edged her chair closer so that their knees bumped again. "Or perhaps we could administer a sedative in the meantime?"

~~AV~~

Bill glared at Jake in disgust. The dog was hopeless as a watchdog. They've been caught by another woman-this time, Layne Ishay.

The poised young woman, in a neat dark green suit, crossed her arms and looked at Laura with disbelief. "No, ma'am, I don't know a Deborah Carstairs."

"Well then," Laura said breezily, taking a step toward the door.

Layne neatly cut her off. "You know, it's not uncommon for people to make excuses when they wish to consult me. They're embarrassed-"

Bill and Laura exchanged quick glances.

"Sure-" said Bill slowly, easing toward the door as well.

But Laura was caught up in the fire of injustice. She wanted to assure Layne Ishay that they would not have been embarrassed to visit a female doctor.

"You're right," she admitted. "We didn't tell you the whole truth. Your father sent us to see you."

Shock registered on her face. "He did?"

"Yes." Laura nodded vigorously. "He thought perhaps you could offer a second opinion for my husband's illness."

Layne gave a dignified little snort. "He must have been utterly blotto when he said that!"

Confused, Laura gave her a vague smile "Well, perhaps. But my husband is quite ill."

The doctor looked the stoic-faced man standing before her. "Would you like to lie down to discuss this?" She motioned to a chaise lounge by the porthole.

"That's okay," rumbled Bill, not sure if he wanted to play along with this scheme Laura seemed to be hatching.

Laura blinked, confused. "Mr Adams would need to lie down for your assessment? It's his head."

"Yes, I understand it's in his head. He doesn't have to lie down but most people find it more relaxing."

"You sure you're a doctor?" Bill asked, a heavy frown creasing his forehead.

Layne laughed softly. "My father likes to tell all and sundry that I'm a witchdoctor, but I assure you Mr Adams that a psychoanalyst is just as skilled as a general practitioner."

"A psychoanalyst," Bill repeated slowly, understanding, then horror coming onto his features.

Layne gave them an irritated look. "What did my father tell you? He sent you here as some kind of joke, didn't he? You're not ill at all."

"No! I mean, yes!" Laura immediately felt contrite. "Mr Adams has amnesia. He received a bump to the head during the storm last night, and now he can't remember the last three months of our lives."

Layne nodded sympathetically. "I could definitely help in this situation. This isn't simply a physical injury you're sporting Mr Adams, but a mental incapacity."

"I can show you the physical evidence on the crown of my head that would dispute that statement, madam!" Bill blustered.

Layne ignored him and turned back to Laura to explain.

"It's been my experience that bumps to the head are merely the catalyst to the patient suppressing their memory. There is something in Mr Adams' past that he obviously doesn't want to remember, and he's deliberately repressing it."

"We thought perhaps Mr Adams had seen something last night that was upsetting," Laura confided. She reached to take Bill's hand, but it was closed in a tight fist.

"Perhaps," Layne agreed. "But I would be more inclined to believe that the event Mr Adams is trying to forget occurred just after his last memory. There must be a reason why he's choosing that particular three months to forget and not anything beforehand. Did anything significant happen around that time?"

"According to my wife, a lotta significant things happened," Bill rasped, exasperated by this woman's probing.

"Then, I think you should explore that event," Layne went on, oblivious to the distressed look on Laura's face. "That event could hold the key. It sounds like it's something Mr Adams doesn't want to remember."

"Thank you, doctor." Bill grabbed Laura's arm and tugged her toward the cabin's door. "We'll think about what you said."

Laura murmured her thanks as well but couldn't meet the doctor's speculative gaze.

They walked back along the ship's corridors in silence, both engrossed in their thoughts.

"Do you want to go and see the third woman?" Laura asked, her voice hollow.

Bill pulled out his watch from his pocket and checked the time. "No, why don't we go and get ready for this dance thing."

"Sure," Laura replied, automatically following Bill along the route to their cabin.

They fell silent again until they entered their cabin and Bill headed straight for the drinks' cabinet.

"Her father is right; she's full of mumbo-jumbo," Bill asserted as he took a long gulp of the fiery whiskey. "That analyst claptrap is pure voodoo. I'm sure she heard you're loaded and wants a new patient to bill."

"Sure," Laura agreed in that same distracted tone. "I'm going to bathe before the dance," she announced, throwing off her shoes and heading toward the bathroom.

After entering the bath, she closed the door and Bill heard the distinct click of its lock.