Free Several Deaths Later by Ed Gorman Page A

without asking what he wanted-sex. If she didn't give in he'd go to the captain-and would the captain actually believe her story that she'd dressed up this way only so she could follow Ken Norris in pursuit of her story? And then sneaked into the room only after somebody had knocked her out while she hid on deck, watching the cabin? The only reason she'd sneaked in was because she sensed that something was terribly wrong and she'd been right. Then the bathroom door had opened and Cindy had come out and Iris had panicked and pushed past her and gone out into the night and…
        But Sanderson hadn't wanted sex. He'd said, in fact, "Been married to the same woman for forty-one years. Never slept with another one. Had a chance to once, Louisiana-it was right after the Korean War-but I turned her down. Man gives his word it should stay gived."
        Then Sanderson had said, "I don't believe you killed that man but I want to know what you were doing in that cabin."
        She'd told him she was a reporter. She'd told him for whom. She'd told him she was working on a story. What she didn't tell him was what the story was all about, or whom it involved.
        And that's what he was still trying to find out.
        Now Sanderson said, "You got two hours left."
        "I'm aware of that."
        "Two hours and either you give me the name of the person you're following or I go to the captain."
        "Who are you, Sanderson? What's your interest in this?"
        "Darlin', you're in no position to be askin' me any questions."
        "You can only push it so far, Sanderson."
        He smiled. He had been handsome once but now there was too much age and malice in his gaze for that. "And just how far would that be, darlin'?"
        "Which one is it?" she asked.
        "Which one?"
        "It's one of them on 'Celebrity Circle,' isn't it?"
        He intentionally made his voice naive. "Now, darlin', what would I want with one of them celebrities?"
        "You've got something on one of them, don't you? That's why you're on this ship."
        "Now why would you think that?"
        "Because I followed you yesterday afternoon."
        For the first time, his face showed real interest in what she was saying. A sense of caution tightened his voice. "Followed me?"
        "Yes."
        "In the afternoon?"
        "Yes."
        "And what was I doin', darlin'?"
        "You were sliding a number ten white envelope under the door of each celebrity-with the exception of Tobin."
        "And why do you suppose I wouldn't include Tobin?"
        "Because he isn't one of them. They've been together a long time and he's just a guest."
        "You're a very intelligent woman, darlin'. But I imagine you're a mighty frustrated one too."
        She expected a sexual remark. He surprised her. "Because you know deep down that I'm not goin' to tell you bird squat about what I'm doin' on this ship." Then he laughed. It was a merry laugh.
        "And you're not going to find out what I'm doing on this ship, either."
        Then he startled her.
        She sat there with her Harvard degree and her beauty and her daddy's wealth thinking what a crude clod Sanderson was, and then he startled her completely.
        He told her exactly what she was doing on this ship. Exactly.
        And then he started laughing again. Merrily.
        "You bastard," she said. "How did you find out?"
        "I've got a lot of surprises in me, darlin'," he said, hoisting his wineglass. "A lot of them.”
        
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        Around 9:00 the entertainment got much better. Marty Gerber, the comic, took the large semicircular stage with a baby blue spot and a painting of Eden in the background. He had rarely been this good, his timing flawless, and his material confessional without being self-indulgent (the difference between Robert Klein and Richard Lewis), and the diners responded accordingly.
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