Ed Gorman - Several Deaths Later

She was at a blackjack table and she was sitting with Cassie McDowell and watching the dealer, a swarthy man in a white shirt with epaulets that would have delighted Rudyard Kipling, dispatch cards face-up, facedown with dizzying precision.

"Hi, Cindy," he said when he reached her.

She was concentrating on her cards so that when she glanced up, her blue eyes didn't focus for a moment and she resembled an infant coming awake.

"Oh. Hello."

"I'm trying to cheer her up," Cassie said, pointing to the drinks in front of them. Clear, they were presumably vodka and tonics. Cassie flicked her eyes indicating she wasn't getting the job done very well. Today Cassie wore a white lacy blouse and dark blue slacks. She resembled a very lovely grade-schoolteacher from Elgin, Illinois.

Cindy, contrarily, was overdressed, in a black gownlike frock with a scoop neck that no doubt made men happy and women uneasy. Cindy said, "I burst?"

"Bust." The dealer sighed. "Bust is the word. Not burst." Obviously he'd explained this to her many times. Obviously he was tired of it. "And," he said, flipping over her card, "yes, you did. You've got twenty-four."

"Darn," Cindy said. The way she leaned, you might have thought she'd fall off her stool.

Tobin moved closer to her, let her lean against him. It was not an unpleasant duty at all.

"I was never any good at blackjack, either," Tobin said.

"How much have I lost?" Cindy asked the dealer gravely.

"Eighty dollars, miss," the dealer said.

"Gosh," Cindy said, marveling. "Nearly a day's pay."

The dealer made a little clucking sound.

Tobin glanced around the casino. The cruise ship folks had done their best to turn it into a mini-Las Vegas-with a wall of slot machines, a baccarat table, poker tables, squirrel cages, and enough green felt to cover the floor of the Astrodome. Even in the afternoon the place smelled of cigarette smoke and whiskey and affected the sort of artificial darkness Tobin associated with forlorn midday drinking sessions-of which he'd had more than his share lately.

"Why don't we go for a walk?"

"Where?" Cindy said.

"Around the boat. Lovely afternoon."

Then he wondered why Cassie would look so sour about his proposal. Did she simply resent being left out?

Cindy turned to Cassie. "Maybe that's a good idea. We can finish talking about-well, you know-later on. OK?"

Cassie flushed. Even in the shadows of the casino, Tobin could see how upset she looked, uncomfortable that Cindy had raised the subject of their conversation.

"Just go on," Cassie said hurriedly. "Have a good time."

But her gaze flashed with anger, and it was for Tobin.

In a voice that viewers of "McKinley High, USA" would have been shocked to hear, the demure Cassie McDowell snapped her fingers at a passing waiter and said, "Get me another vodka tonic. And put some goddamn vodka in it this time, all right?"

The waiter nodded and left.

"Gosh, Cassie sure seemed crabby right at the last there."

"Didn't she though."

"She's real nice."

"Yes, she is."

"You'd never guess she was a TV star and I was a secretary at an insurance company."

"Some of us biggies are like that."

"You're being sarcastic."

"You just make too big a fuss over celebrities is all. They're not much different from anybody else-a little more insecure maybe."

"I notice you said 'they're.' Aren't you a celebrity?"

"I suppose."

"You don't sound very happy about it."

"I started off writing for a newspaper. I had an old Dodge then and a wife I loved a great deal and two very wonderful children and someday I was going to write a novel and I'll be damned if I can figure out why I let it all go."

"Gosh, I don't know why you would either."

"But I did."

"Another woman?"

"A series of them."

"Oh."

"You don't sound impressed."

"I just have a thing about married men who play around."

"I know. Adultery's always ugly, no matter how fashionable it becomes."

"That isn't what I meant. I mean, I wish I could sound noble about it but it's just that I went out with two different married men and fell in love with them both and they both strung me along."

"Oh."

"But I don't like adultery much, anyway. If I ever get married I'm going to try very hard to stay faithful."

"It isn't always easy."

"Maybe we've just never been in love."

"Yes," Tobin said. "Yes, maybe it's that simple after all."

By now they had climbed the stairs to the next deck up, where they saw an aerobics class being conducted on the teakwood deck outside the glass-paneled gymnasium.

"How about a 7-Up?" Tobin said, nodding to some outdoor tables near the railing.

"Nothing stronger?"

"I don't think either of us needs it."

"You're not suspected of murder."

"Did the captain say any more to you?"

"Yes, he came around this morning with the ship's doctor. A very cold man named Devane."

By now he'd steered her to a small imitation sidewalk cafe complete with yellow lawn umbrellas and matching yellow furniture. They faced away from the joggers, which was just as well. Even though the glass afforded Tobin glimpses of lovely women, he did not need to feel guilty about his lack of exercise. There was far too much else to be remorseful over.

He ordered two diet 7-Ups and said, "So what did the captain want?"

"He wanted this Dr. Devane to look at my hands. Isn't that weird?"

"Did he say why?"

"No."

"So he looked at your hands."

"Ummm," she said, sipping the first of her drink.

"And what did he say?"

"He just sort of glanced at the captain and shook his head."

"But he didn't say anything else?"

"No."

"That is odd."

"And scary."

Tobin said, "Maybe not."

"No?"

"No. It sounds to me as if they came there looking for something and didn't find it."

"I didn't kill him."

"I know."

"I'm just a secretary."

"Yes."

"From Kansas City."

He touched her hand. "And a sweet one."

"You're so nice."

"Don't put any nobility on me."

"No?"

"No. This is all probably a protracted attempt at seduction."

She might have been squinting in the late afternoon sunlight but he knew it was a wince instead.

"I used to be sort of promiscuous." She was turning him down.

"We all were."

"I mean, I feel guilty about it."

"So do I. Sometimes, anyway."

"I was even kind of a groupie with certain types of men."

He smiled. "Insurance men?"

She laughed. "No. They're just as dull as they're supposed to be. But you know…"

"Jocks, airplane pilots, doctors?"

"Right. All the men I met in singles bars."

"Well, that decade is behind us."

"But I was still pretty much that way until the thing happened with Ken Norris. I mean, I was going to sleep with him and I'd only met him a few hours earlier. I even sort of plotted it."

"You did?"

"Yes. I saw him arguing with Todd Ames, and then he walked out of the bar to the railing and I pretended to walk out and get lost and just sort of run into him. It was very calculated. I just wanted to be able to tell Aberdeen that on my cruise I'd slept with a TV star."

"I want to know more about his argument with Todd Ames."

Her smooth, carefully tended face showed curiosity. "You think he might have killed Ken?"

Tobin shrugged. "What were they arguing about?"

"I don't know. There was so much noise in the bar I couldn't tell."

"You sure they were arguing?"

"Oh, yes. Ken threw his drink in Todd's face."

"Did Ken say anything about this later, when you were alone?"

"Not exactly. He was pretty drunk, sort of rambling most of the night, but I got the impression he didn't think much of the panelists on the show."