scarves.
He closed the final drawer and moved on to the closet. He paused once and clipped off the light because he heard somebody coming down the corridor. The footsteps were loud, squeaky with leather. Then they moved on past.
Tobin resumed his search, finding two leather suitcases set side-by-side in the back of the closet.
He turned on the light again and hauled both suitcases to the bed.
The first suitcase was stuffed with more cosmetics. Running to wrinkle cream, and moisturizer, and Scandinavian elixirs that promised all sorts of miracles, they were sad reminders of how uncomfortably many beautiful women deal with impending age.
In the second suitcase he found the two things of note: the small black and white photograph he'd seen Susan Richards holding the other day by the swimming pool and a folded letter identical to the one that Cindy McBain had seen stuffed under Kevin Anderson's door-the one with the Xerox of the infant. The one all the 'Celebrity Circle' panelists had received.
Tobin compared the small photograph to the Xerox image on the paper. They were identical.
He knew now that everything Everett Sanderson's brother had told him on the phone was true.
He picked up the phone, dialed the Farris cabin.
Alicia Farris answered, 'Hello.'
'Hello, Alicia. This is Tobin.'
'Oh. Hello.' She did not sound the least happy to hear from him. After this afternoon he was hardly surprised.
'I need to speak to Jere.'
'He's resting.'
'It's important.'
There was a pause. 'Susan Richards is being charged with these murders. The scandal will destroy the show. What the hell more do you want, Tobin?'
'I want to speak to Jere.'
'You sonofabitch.'
But she did not hang up. In the background she could be heard telling her husband who was on the phone. Jere cursed. Bedsprings squeaked. He said, 'What the hell do you want?'
'I need you to answer a question for me very carefully.'
'Why should I?'
Tobin sighed. 'It's important, Jere. That's why.'
Ice rattled in a glass, which helped explain why Jere sounded half-bagged. 'What's your question?'
'The night before last, did Joanna Howard push a love letter to you under your door?'
'Why the hell would that be any business of yours?'
'Answer me. Please.'
'No.'
'That's all I wanted to know.'
As he was hanging up, he heard Jere sputtering another angry response.
45
'You always look so bundled up,' Cindy said. 'Slacks and long-sleeve blouses. You should let yourself go, especially on a cruise like this. You've got a nice shape.'
They were in Joanna Howard's cabin and drinking wine. White wine and lots of it. Too much of it, in fact. Cindy felt positively drunk.
Late this afternoon she'd run into Joanna in one of the lounges. They'd had a steak sandwich together and then they'd come back to Joanna's to relax. Joanna reminded Cindy a bit of Aberdeen. She was full of questions about Cindy's life. The men she'd known and the places she'd gone and the best dresses she'd ever owned-but mostly about the men she'd known. Cindy felt like a movie star being interviewed by a slightly agog reporter-just the way Aberdeen always made her feel. But Cindy knew what Joanna was doing. She was trying to get over a broken heart because just this afternoon Jere Farris had informed her that he was breaking off their relationship.
Cindy sneezed.
'Catching cold?'
'Allergies. They just come up.'
'Need a Kleenex?'
Cindy rooted about in her purse. 'I've got one here.' She waved it like a tiny white flag of surrender, then applied it to her nose. She filled it in a single blow.
'I'm sorry about Jere,' Cindy said.
She sat on the couch with her feet on the coffee table. Joanna sat across the room, scrunched up in an easy chair.
'It's just as well,' Joanna said.
The funny thing, Cindy thought, was that even though Joanna was throwing back the wine, she didn't sound drunk at all.
'It sure is,' Cindy said, trying to sound brave on Joanna's behalf. 'You'll find somebody twice as nice. Twice as nice.'
Joanna touched her stomach. 'Need to go to the bathroom. You want some more wine?'
'I can get it, hon. You just take care of your bladder.'
Joanna grinned. She had a perfectly wonderful grin. 'You're so nice.'
'So are you.'
On the way to the bathroom, Joanna passed by Cindy and touched her on one of her big toes. 'You're a good friend of mine.'
'Well, considering that you work with TV stars all day and I'm just a secretary, I consider that a compliment.'
'An executive secretary.'
'Well, yes, I guess that's true. An executive secretary.'
'Be right back.'
As soon as the bathroom door closed, Cindy sneezed this huge sneeze and then found herself with a wet nose and no Kleenex.
On unsteady feet, she got up and began looking for a box of tissues.
She opened the first bureau drawer she came to and while she did find a box of Kleenex Boutique, she also found something else.
She was staring at the something else when she heard the bathroom door open up.
'Cindy. What the hell are you doing in my bureau?' Joanna said. She didn't sound cordial anymore. Not at all.
'I was just looking for Kleenex and I found…' And then her eyes dropped to the small black and white photograph.
She had seen a copy of this in the envelope slid under the door in Kevin Anderson's cabin and-
'My God,' Cindy said. 'You're the one who…'
But she didn't have time to finish the rest of the sentence because Joanna had magically produced a gun.
Cindy stared at it in disbelief.
She was a secretary from Kansas City (well, all right, an executive secretary) and guns just weren't a part of her life.
