Huckleberry Finished (10 page)

I took the stairs to the second deck. When I got there I realized I'd have to go past the
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
sign to get to Mark's cabin. I hesitated—old habits are hard to break, and I'd always been the sort of girl who follows the rules—and while I was standing there I saw the door to Mark's cabin open.

A woman stepped out. I saw blond hair and realized with a shock that I knew her. I had seen her fleeing down the deck the night before, but that wasn't the only place. In fact, I had seen her a short time earlier in the dining room.

Louise Kramer.

It got worse, though. I stepped back hurriedly around the corner at the end of the deck, edging forward just enough so that I could see along the line of cabins. Mark came out of his cabin and gave Louise a hug, holding her tightly.

Whether I liked it or not, I had to admit to myself that Mark Lansing was as sorry as a two-dollar watch.

A
fter a long moment, Mark let go of Louise, moved back a step, and patted her on the shoulder. At least he didn't kiss her. Not out here in the open, anyway. Who knew what had gone on inside the cabin? Not me, and I didn't want to think about it. Even if Louise's husband was a jerk, she was still
married,
for gosh sake.

She was about to turn away from Mark and come in my direction. I didn't want her to see me, so I ducked into the stairway and headed back down to the first deck. It seemed like my efforts to question Mark were doomed to failure, but despite that I had just found out one of the things I wanted to know: the identity of the woman who had come to his cabin the night before.

And I almost wished that I hadn't.

That still didn't explain why he had a gun hidden in his shaving kit. Maybe to protect himself from jealous husbands.

By the time I reached the first deck, another question had occurred to me. Had Mark known Louise Kramer before the cruise? He lived in St. Louis, he had told me. I couldn't remember where the Kramers were from, although I was sure I had seen the information when we were processing their booking in the office. I was glad now that I had told Melissa to get what information she could about them, although I wasn't sure what, if anything, I could do with it.

If Mark hadn't known Louise, that meant he was a mighty fast worker, getting her to come to his cabin in the middle of the night like that.

And where exactly were
you
at the time, missy?
I asked myself. In Mark Lansing's cabin.

I leaned against the wall or bulkhead or whatever you call it and closed my eyes as the wheels, like those of the bus in the song I used to sing to Melissa when she was a baby, went round and round in my head. If Mark was expecting Louise to show up at his cabin, why in heaven's name had he asked me to spend the night there? Had he forgotten that he had an illicit rendezvous planned? That didn't seem very likely. The whole thing didn't make any sense.

I must have stood there with my eyes closed for longer than the second or so I intended, because the next thing I knew a familiar voice was asking me, “Are you all right, Ms. Dickinson?”

Oh, no. This was just too much. I opened my eyes and saw Louise Kramer standing there with a concerned look on her face.

I fought down the impulse to ask her what the heck was wrong with her, carrying on like that with a man who wasn't her husband. Instead I managed to say, “Yeah, I'm okay. Just tired from everything that's been goin' on the past couple of days.”

“I can understand that. It's just terrible about that young man being murdered.” She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. “He
was
murdered, wasn't he? That's what I've heard.”

“I'm afraid so.” There was no point in trying to keep the circumstances of Ben Webster's death quiet now.

“It's such a tragedy when a…a young person's life is cut short like that,” she said, her voice choking with emotion. I saw tears spring into shining life in her eyes as she repeated, “Such a tragedy.”

She looked like she was taking it pretty hard, considering that she hadn't even known Webster. I was trying to come up with something consoling to say, even though I was still upset about the whole Mark thing, when the phone in my pants pocket rang.

I took it out, saw that it was the office calling, and said, “Excuse me,” to Louise. She just nodded and wiped at one of her eyes.

“Mom,” Melissa said when I answered, “are you where you can write down that information about your computer?”

“No, not really,” I said. “I can call you back in a minute—”

“Hang on, Mom, I have some stuff here you might need to know. It's about the Kramers.”

That caught my interest. I summoned up a smile for Louise to keep her there, then told Melissa, “All right, go ahead.”

“I checked our records first, of course, but all that was there was their credit card number and their contact information.”

“What's that last part again?” I asked, remembering my question about whether or not Mark and Louise had known each other before the cruise.

“You mean the address?”

“Just the last part will do,” I told her.

“The town where they live? That would be Kennett, Missouri.”

I was familiar with Kennett. It was a small city way down in the boot heel of Missouri. I recalled Mark saying that he was born in that area but raised in St. Louis. So it was conceivable that Mark and Louise had known each other in the past, maybe as kids. They were about the same age, after all.

“Go on,” I told Melissa.

“I wasn't sure why you wanted to know about them, but I knew it would only take a minute to search their names on the Internet. That's where I found the archived newspaper stories about the murder.”

My fingers tightened on the phone in surprise. I managed to keep the smile on my face, but I imagine it was starting to look a little hollow right about then. I swallowed and said, “What about it?”

I was waiting for Melissa to tell me that the police had charged Eddie Kramer with murdering one of his wife's lovers. But the truth was a lot more painful than that.

“Their daughter was killed,” Melissa said.

I swallowed hard again to hide the shock I felt. “Really?”

“Yes. Her name was Hannah. She was twenty-two. But get this, Mom…she was killed on the
Southern Belle
. It happened one year ago today…and the police never found the murderer.”

I was as dizzy as I'd been the night before when I was full of champagne and no food. The deck seemed to be spinning around me. The phone was my lifeline, and I clung to it.

“Go on,” I said.

“Hannah Kramer worked on the
Southern Belle
. She was a cocktail waitress in the casino. Someone hit her on the head and threw her into one of the paddlewheels.”

I couldn't help myself. That was so gruesome I had to mutter, “Oh, Lord.” The fact that I was standing there next to Hannah Kramer's mother didn't help matters.

One year ago today, Melissa had said. What sort of people went off on a vacation on the one-year anniversary of their child's murder?

What sort of mother would carry on an affair at a time like that?

I took a breath and told myself not to be so judgmental. My shoes are my own. I don't walk in anybody else's. But I can imagine it when I try.

“Yeah,” Melissa continued, “it could have been even worse than it was if somebody hadn't spotted the body right away and raised the alarm. They were able to stop the boat before the paddlewheel, uh, did too much damage.”

I had to be careful how I phrased my questions, what with Louise standing right there. “How do they know that's what the situation was?”

“Murder, you mean? At first they thought she must have fallen overboard by accident, but at the autopsy they found metal fragments in one of the wounds on her head. Somebody hit her with a piece of pipe. From that the cops decided that someone knocked her out first and then
threw
her into the paddlewheel. The killer probably figured that the damage from the paddlewheel would cover up the evidence of the other blow, but it didn't work out that way.”

I knew Melissa was probably paraphrasing the newspaper stories about the murder that she'd found on the Internet, but it was still chilling to hear the matter-of-fact way she said it. I didn't blame her, of course; she hadn't known Hannah Kramer and had no way of knowing that I was with Hannah's mother.

“Go on,” I told her.

“That's really all there is to tell. The State Police investigated the case, of course, but they never made any arrests. The theory is that someone on the boat tried to rob her, but hit her too hard and then panicked and threw her over the side when they saw she was dead. That makes sense, I guess.”

It did, and for all I knew, that was exactly what had happened. I looked at Louise and saw that she was still wiping tears away. The fact that Ben Webster had been murdered one day before the one-year anniversary of her daughter's death must have gotten to her.

That didn't explain what she and her husband were doing on this cruise, or why Louise was carrying on with Mark Lansing, but those were questions that Melissa couldn't answer no matter how much searching she did on the Internet.

Only Louise had those answers.

“Well, thanks for letting me know,” I told Melissa. “I'll call you back in a little while to get those numbers.”

“Okay. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help. Do you have any idea when you'll be able to get back home?”

“Not a clue,” I said.

As I closed the phone and slipped it back into my pocket, I went on to Louise, “Sorry for the interruption. That was my office. My daughter, actually. She works for me.”

Maybe I imagined it, or maybe I noticed it because of what I had just found out, but I thought Louise flinched the tiniest bit at the word
daughter
. Just one more reminder of her loss. But she smiled and said, “That must be nice. To have your daughter working for you, I mean.”

“Yeah, she's good at runnin' the office, and her husband helps me with the tours. He didn't come along on this one because I figured I could handle it without any trouble.”

“You couldn't have known about…about what was going to happen. Tragedies usually come out of nowhere. That's one of the most awful things about them, the way they take you by such surprise. I mean, you're just going along with your life, and then suddenly…suddenly everything that matters to you is ripped out from under you….”

I could see it happening. She was talking herself into a breakdown right in front of me, and there wasn't a darn thing I could do to stop it. As her voice trailed off, the waterworks came on full blast. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she shuddered, and before I could move, she stepped forward, put her arms around me, and started to sob against my shoulder.

As much as the idea of her carrying on with Mark Lansing bothered me, I couldn't push her away. As one mother to another, all I could do was hug her, pat her on the back, and let her cry. She had no idea that I knew what had happened to her daughter, of course, but I did know and I couldn't help but sympathize.

After a minute she started to recover her composure. “I'm so sorry,” she said as she stepped back and wiped the back of her hand across her sniffly nose. “I…I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't mean to get so emotional.”

“That's all right,” I told her. “I can tell something's really botherin' you. Would you like to go get a cup of coffee and talk about it?”

I didn't make the suggestion because I thought it would be a good opportunity to ask her some questions. I really didn't. Honestly, sharing some sympathy along with the coffee was the only thing I had in mind when the words came out of my mouth.

But no sooner had I said them than I realized that this might be a chance to find out more about what was going on between her and Mark. Louise seemed to like me, and she might open up to me. I felt a little cold and calculating, but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

“Are…are you sure?” she asked. “I know you must have more important things to do….”

I shook my head. “Not at all. This is plenty important.” I took her arm. “Come with me to the dining room. I reckon you'll feel better if you get some of it out.”

She managed a wan smile. “You know, I think that I will. Feel better, that is.”

It was still early enough that quite a few people were having breakfast in the dining room, but after Louise and I helped ourselves to coffee, we found an empty table in a corner where not too many folks could overhear what we were saying. Louise began, “You don't have any way of knowing this, Ms. Dickinson—”

I broke in, “Please, call me Delilah.”

“All right. Delilah.” She smiled. “It's such a pretty name. Of course, in the Bible Delilah tempted Samson and betrayed him.”

“I don't see any long-haired fellas around here. Anyway, I reckon my temptress days are behind me.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that. You're still a very attractive woman.”

Mark had seemed to think so,
I thought, but I didn't say it. Instead I said, “Go ahead and tell me what's botherin' you, if you want to.”

“I hardly know how to say it.”

“In my experience, if something's painful, it's best to just come right out with it.”

“I suppose you're right.” Louise took a deep breath. “Eddie and I didn't come on this cruise just for a vacation. Oh, it's true that he needed to get away from his business. He's so driven that I'll try anything to get him to relax. He's thrown himself into his work so hard for the past year that I'm afraid he's going to have a heart attack or something. But I understand why he does it. That's the only way he can cope. He has to keep himself so busy because he can't allow himself to think about…about what happened.”

She stopped and took a sip of coffee. I didn't say anything. I sensed that the best thing for me to do now was to keep quiet and let Louise Kramer tell her story however she wanted to.

“You must be wondering what I'm talking about,” she said with a sad, tiny smile. “You'd be even more surprised if you knew the real reason
I
came on this cruise.”

To fool around with Mark Lansing?
I thought, but again I didn't say it. Instead I suggested, “Why don't you tell me?”

Louise looked straight at me across the table and nodded. “All right, I will. I came on this cruise, Delilah, because I want to kill someone.”