It was bad enough that Captain Hook needed special medication and that someone could have jeopardized her life by stealing her for their private collection. But the possibility that poachers wanted her for parts made me feel ill. I wasn’t as emotionally attached to her as Frank or Mr. V, but Captain Hook was a beautiful living creature, and I was beyond bummed to think someone might want to chop her up and turn her into turtle tonic. Murph wished us luck and promised to keep an ear out for any more intel on Captain Hook, stolen fish, or the poachers. The crowd around the aquarium was starting to thin out as the news vans dispersed in search of someone else to interview. That’s when I saw a tall, slim man in a custom-tailored pinstripe suit hurrying along the pier away from the aquarium. Maybe it was the briefcase he was carrying, but something about him looked really familiar. “Is that . . . ?” “Dirk Bishop?” Frank finished my question before I had a chance. “No way, dude.
