Several Deaths Later

'Maybe two, three in the afternoon. Our time.'

'All right.' Then he thought of the newspaper clipping. 'By the way, did your husband or Everett ever mention a man who died in a trailer fire named William Kelly?'

'How'd you find out about him?' She sounded suspicious.

'They have mentioned him then?'

'Of course they mentioned him. He was kin. A first cousin.'

'What?'

'Sure. Hell, I was to his baptism. He was a good boy and then-'

'Then what?'

'Now I'm gettin' into agency business and that's where Merle can get mighty mad. You just call back like I told you to.'

'But-'

'You just call back.' And then she hung up.

He had just decided to light up a cigarillo when a heavy hand fell many times on his cabin door.

He was up off the bed, frightened and puzzled, in seconds.

Captain Hackett stood in the door. You could tell he'd been drunk and had then gotten sober abruptly.

He looked old and he looked miserable. 'It's happened again.'

'What's happened?'

'A killing.'

'Who?'

'Kevin Anderson.'

'My God.'

'Come on,' the captain said, 'and hurry.”

35

2:01 A.M.

They had put him out in the corridor and they had put a white sheet over him and into the white sheet had soaked the red blood, his blood of course, that had come from the repeated shots in the chest.

He was tall enough that the sheet only reached to just below his knees. You got a good look at very hairy legs and soles with athlete's foot.

The costume party, which had still been going on even though the more sensible or more lustful had long since fled it, had brought out moth-to-flame onlookers. They stood now in their silly getups-Snow White and Teddy Roosevelt and Superman-watching as somber men in white jackets went in and out of the room. Occasionally Captain Hackett came out and asked them to please, please go back to the party and have a good time, that there had been another misfortune (he was a word man, was the captain) but there was nothing for them to fear. A few complained, a few more threatened, but they were too drunk and filled with the festivities to do anything but wobble back from where they'd come, along the deck of the cruise ship, the stars brilliant and timeless, the moon full and pagan. The band had never stopped playing and the air was filled with the playful, erotic strains of Cole Porter's 'Love For Sale.'

'You were taking a shower?'

'Tobin, please, don't I get a lawyer or something?'

Tobin went over and hunched down next to her. They were in Kevin Anderson's cabin. You could smell blood and other terrible things. You could see where, in falling over backwards from the force of the shots, Kevin Anderson had smashed a lamp and cracked a mirror. There was a sinister aspect to the room now. The lights seemed very bright. The carpet was splotchy red. Now Tobin sensed what detectives must feel when they come on a murder scene. There was something pornographic about it all.

Cindy was wrapped in a towel. She sat on a small footstool. She looked very young.

Captain Hackett said, 'You haven't answered my question, young lady.'

'Tobin?' she said, appealing to him.

'Why don't you just answer him, Cindy? He's not trying to trap you into anything-or if he is-I won't let him. He's just trying to find out what went on here.'

She glanced up at the captain. 'I don't want you to think I'm… well, easy, or anything.'

'The other night while you were taking a shower, a man died. Tonight you're taking another shower and another man dies. I'd like to know why.'

'I don't know why.'

'You didn't hear anything?'

'Some kind of… crash or something, I guess.'

'Crash?'

'Something fell over.'

'But you didn't come out to see what it was?'

'I was in the shower.'

'Did you call out?'

'Call out?'

'For Anderson? Did you call out to see if he was all right?'

'I guess not, no.'

'Why not?'

'I… don't know why not.'

And then she broke down, sobbing.

Tobin slid his arm around her and said, 'You don't really think she had anything to do with this, do you?'

Hackett said, 'No, I suppose not.'

'Then can't we leave everything else till morning?'

Hackett glanced at the door through which came a red-faced Dr. Devane. He'd obviously been awakened from a boozy slumber. He wore a bathrobe and slippers that flapped and he carried a little black bag. 'Evening,' he said.

'I'd like to get Cindy out of here,' Tobin said. 'Any reason I can't?'

'I guess not,' Hackett said.

Cindy, still sobbing, rose and clutched the towel tightly to herself. When she got very close to the captain she said, 'I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me.'

'Oh, no,' the captain said. 'I'd never do that.'

As Tobin took Cindy's arm and helped her through the door, he saw Hackett shake his head and frown. Obviously he felt it was a bit late for Cindy to start defending her virtue.

35

2:45 A.M.

'I'll make love if you want to.'

'Boy, you really sound enthusiastic,' Tobin said. 'Maybe it would help me.'

They were in his cabin in the darkness and in his bed.

'Medicinal purposes, eh?' Tobin said. 'You don't have to be sarcastic.'

'Maybe it isn't such a good idea.'