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“So, is this some kind of test? Are you going to practice interrogation techniques on me?”
“Practice?” I snorted. “I don’t need practice.”
“Ooh, you know, something I saw overseas was very interesting. I would be happy to try it for you. They tied a guy up, much like you have me, but without the water. Then, they removed his shoes and strapped his feet down. Over the course of three hours, they ran a feather over the bottom of his foot. The guy snapped like a twig.”
Now, that was interesting. I pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him. “So, they tortured him with tickles?”
“Well, it wasn’t really tickling. It was something about the sensory something or other and the mind games of the…I really don’t know. But it was awesome and it totally worked.”
“Well, as interesting as that is, we have more important matters to discuss.”
“Okay, shoot.”
I laughed at his joke. “That’s a good one. So, first of all, what’s the deal with you being married and not telling anyone?”
“That? That’s what you want to discuss?”
I didn’t like looking at him with a blindfold on. It was distracting. I liked to look into the eyes of the man I was interrogating. I quickly removed it, stuffing it in my pocket.
“So, who’s this woman?”
He sighed with a smile on his face. “Francesca.”
“Okay, that right there,” I pointed at him. “What are you sighing happily about? You’re a married man.”
“You’re not going to tell Honey, are you?”
I might not like the way he was saying this Francesca woman’s name, but I was no snitch. “Not as long as you tell me everything.”
“Well, you can relax. I wasn’t married before I came here.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“I was engaged, but it didn’t work out.”
“Paris,” I nodded. “I’ll be honest, I really don’t know much about her, but I saw her picture. She was gorgeous.”
“With a vicious, green heart,” he grumbled. He frowned, looking down at the water. “Did you add salt?”
“Yeah, it’s for better conductivity.”
“It’s nice,” he said, wiggling his toes. “Exfoliating. Do you think you could add in a little oil to help soften my skin?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any down here. I have some motor oil, but I don’t think that’ll work the same way. So, back to this woman.”
“Francesca or Paris?”
“Francesca. You actually married her while you were gone?”
“Me? No, I didn’t marry her. My alter ego did. And let me tell you, he really enjoyed that marriage.”
A grin split my lips as he continued.
“She was a job. Actually, she was the suit’s daughter. She was on board his yacht when he found me drifting at sea.”
“I thought the suit was the guy you were following in Marrakech?”
“He was, but that was all a ruse, part of a bigger ruse.”
