Free Huckleberry Finished by Livia J. Washburn Page A

it is until I know who killed Ben Webster.”

C HAPTER 8
    I was tempted to argue with her. I had a business to run, and I was sure my clients all had lives they needed to get back to, not to mention all the other passengers on the boat.
    But I didn’t figure it would do any good, and anyway, plenty of other folks would be yelling once they found out they were stuck here while a murder investigation went on. I was sure once people started calling their lawyers, the situation would be resolved pretty quickly.
    Detective Travis just wanted to keep the lid clamped down tight for as long as she could, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Maybe it wouldn’t take her long to discover who the killer was. Maybe he’d left his fingerprints on the storage closet door, or something like that.
    Maybe pigs could fly, too, but I wasn’t counting on it.
    Since Travis was done with me, I asked, “Do I have to go back up to Rafferty’s office?”
    She shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. You can go where you want as long as you don’t leave the boat.” Her voice hardened. “I have an officer posted on the dock to make sure no one leaves. You’re not planning on jumping overboard and trying to swim ashore, are you, Ms. Dickinson?”
    â€œNot hardly,” I said. “Huck and Jim might’ve jumped off that raft of theirs and swam around in the Mississippi, but it’s not as clean now as it was back then. I’m not much of a swimmer, anyway.”
    â€œDo you have a cell phone?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œGive me the number,” she said, “in case I need to talk to you again.”
    Interrogate me again, that was what she meant, I thought. She copied down the number of my phone in her notebook and then turned the page. I took that to mean I was dismissed.
    The uniformed cop who’d fetched me from Rafferty’s office went as far as the main deck with me, then headed on up to the second deck. He was going to get one of the stewards, I thought. Detective Travis would be questioning both of them, even though they hadn’t found the body. Captain Williams had just brought them below decks with him after he got the call from Henry about finding Ben Webster’s corpse. But I supposed one of them might have noticed something that no one else had. It was possible, anyway.
    I started to go to my cabin, then decided against it. Even though it was late, I was too upset by everything that had happened to just go to sleep. Besides, I was still hungry. I wondered if I could find anything to eat in the salon.
    When I went in, the first person I saw was Vince Mallory. He sat on one of the divans sipping a drink and leafing through one of the books about Mark Twain that lay on a table in front of the divan. He looked up at me and smiled. He didn’t look or act like he had heard anything about the murder. Neither did any of the other passengers in the salon, all of whom seemed to be having a good time.
    I might have gone over and talked to Vince, but then I spotted Mark Lansing at the bar. He wasn’t wearing his Mark Twain getup anymore, and I’m not sure any of the passengers other than me knew who he was. I smiled and waved at Vince, then headed for the bar to talk to Mark. Vince seemed like a pretty nice young man, but he was young enough to be, well, my son-in-law.
    Anyway, Mark knew there had been some sort of problem earlier, and I was sure he was curious.
    As I walked over to him, he stood up from the stool where he’d been sitting. “Are you all right, Delilah?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, I’m fine. A little tired and upset, maybe, but more hungry than anything else.”
    He shook his head. “There are some peanuts here on the bar, but I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you.”
    â€œI’ll take ’em.” We sat down side by side, and he pushed the silver tray of peanuts over to me.