her body and clothing in minute detail. Carol squirmed involuntarily.
'Well, hello, Greta,' she said, her usual aplomb strangely absent in this awkward moment, 'nice to meet you.' Jesus, Carol thought, as Greta just looked at Carol's outstretched hand for several seconds, let me out of here. I must be on a strange planet or having a nightmare.
'Greta sometimes likes to have fun with our customers,' Captain Homer said to Carol, 'but don't let it put you off.' Was he irritated with Greta? Carol thought she detected some unspoken communication between Greta and Captain Homer, for at length Greta smiled. But it was an artificial smile.
'Velcome to the Ambrosia,' Greta said, mimicking Captain Homer's first remarks to Carol. 'Our pleasure avaits you.' Greta lifted her arms over her head, watching Carol again, and began to stretch. 'Come vit us to paradise,' Greta said.
Carol felt Captain Homer's burly hand on her elbow, turning her around. She also thought she saw an angry glance from Homer to Greta. 'The Ambrosia is the finest charter vessel in Key West,' he said, guiding her back toward the stem and resuming his sales pitch. 'It has every possible convenience and luxury. Giant screen cable television, compact disc player with quad speakers, automatic chef programmed with over a hundred gourmet dishes, robot massage. And nobody knows the Keys like Captain Homer. I've been diving and fishing these waters for fifty years.'
They had stopped at the entrance to the cabin area in the middle of the yacht. Through the glass door Carol could see stairs descending to another level. 'Would you like to come down and see the galley and the bedroom?' Captain Homer said, without a trace of the earlier suggestiveness. He was a clever chameleon, there was no doubt about that. Carol revised her earlier judgment of him as a buffoon. But what was this business with muscle-bound Greta, whoever she is, Carol wondered. And just what is going on here? Why are they so strange?
'No, thank you, Captain Ashford.' Carol saw her opportunity to exit gracefully. She handed him what was left of the unfinished Coke. 'I've seen enough. It's a magnificent yacht but I can tell it's much too expensive for a single woman wanting to spend a relaxing afternoon. But thanks a lot for your time and the brief tour.'
She started to walk toward the gangplank to the jetty. Captain Homer's eyes narrowed, 'But we haven't even discussed price, Miss Dawson. I'm certain that for someone like you we could make a special deal ...'
Carol could tell that he was not going to let her go without some additional discussion. As she started to leave the yacht, Greta came up beside Captain Homer. 'It vould give you sometink to write about for your paper,' Greta said with a bizarre smile. 'Sometink unusual.'
Carol turned, startled. 'So you recognized me?' she said, stating the obvious. The strange pair grinned back at her. 'Why didn't you say something?'
Captain Homer simply shrugged his huge shoulders. 'We thought maybe you were traveling incognito, or were looking for some special fun, or maybe even were working on a story ...' His voice trailed off Carol smiled and shook her head. Then she waved good-bye, mounted the gangplank, and turned on the jetty toward the distant marina headquarters. Who are those people? she asked herself again. Now I'm certain that I have seen them before. But where?
Twice Carol looked over her shoulder to see if Captain Homer and Greta were still watching her. The second time, when she was almost a hundred yards away, they were no longer in sight. She sighed with relief. The experience had definitely unnerved her.
Carol walked on slowly. She pulled the computer listing that Julianne had given her from a small purple beach bag. Before she could look at it, she heard a telephone ring on her left and her eyes lifted naturally to follow the sound. The telephone was ringing on a boat just in front of her. A husky man in his early thirties was sitting in a folding chair on the same boat. Wearing only a red baseball cap, a pair of swim trunks, dark sunglasses and some thongs, the man was intently watching a small television propped up on a flimsy tray of some kind. He held a sandwich in one hand (Carol could see the white mayonnaise oozing out between the slices of bread even from her distance of ten yards or so) and a can of beer in the