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"And how would that be?"

"I'd just naturally assumed that three deaths took precedence over 'the show.'"

Another pause. "Did you like 'Celebrity Gardener?'"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did you like that show?"

"Not much, no."

"You work very hard for twenty or thirty years and you nearly make it to the top and then-well, something unfortunate happens to you, and there you are one day… on 'Celebrity Gardener.' After you'd had your own network series and been on the cover of TV Guide and been interviewed countless times on 'ET' and… I think you know what I'm talking about."

"You're saying that you've all worked hard."

"Precisely."

"And that 'Celebrity Circle' is your one and only… blue chip stock, I suppose."

"Yes."

"And that it's been jeopardized."

"Badly so."

"And that I shouldn't be asking questions because that only casts more unfavorable light on the show."

"You're beginning to understand and I really appreciate that."

"I'm not unsympathetic, Todd."

"Thank you."

"Being a has-been is no easy life. I happen to be one."

"I don't really care for that implication. We're hardly has-been's."

"No, but you are almost totally dependent on 'Celebrity Circle' for your income and whatever prestige it gives you."

"It may interest you to know that Universal contacted my agent just before we sailed and that there's a pilot in the offing and-"

"So you'd give up your new position as host of 'Celebrity Circle' for the pilot?"

"Of course not. But…"

Tobin gathered himself and said, "A friend of mine tells me that on the night Ken Norris died, he threw a drink in your face. I wonder if you'd care to tell me why."

"Once this cruise is over, Tobin, you'll never work on 'Celebrity Circle' again. I can promise you that."

"And last night at dinner, Cassie McDowell stood up and slapped you. I wonder if you could shed any light on that for me."

"What the hell do you have against us, anyway?"

"Nothing, Todd, believe it or not. I just happen to take murder very seriously."

In books people are always chuckling. Tobin had never been sure what that particular noise was actually supposed to sound like. But just then Todd Ames made a noise that Tobin could only classify as a "chuckle." It was an irritating sound. "You know, back in my theater days-I don't know if you knew that I worked with Kate Hepburn and Larry Olivier-anyway, back then I did a murder play and every night I'd come home, I'd find myself petrified to go into my apartment. Afraid."

But Tobin was still back on "Kate" and "Larry."

"I guess I'm not seeing the point, Todd," Tobin said.

"The point is that I don't like murder much, either. So I suppose I'd just as soon let the police handle all this when we get back to the States."

"Right," Tobin said, "and give the killer plenty of time to cover his or her tracks and get away." He paused. "You haven't answered my questions yet. Why did Ken throw a drink in your face and why did Cassie slap you?"

"Neither one of those questions is any of your business."

"Maybe I'll make them my business."

"We're a family," Todd Ames said. "We squabble like a family-but we've been a family ever since Day One of 'Celebrity Circle.' And we're going to amaze you with how close-knit we are."

"You're saying you won't cooperate with any investigation?"

"We have our reputations plus a show to protect, Tobin. You don't seem to understand that."

"I'm afraid I do understand, Todd, and only too well."

"You're being sarcastic again."

"I'm just trying to find out what's going on."

"Let's leave that to the authorities."

"There are lives at stake here."

"There's also a show at stake."

Tobin paused, seeing he was getting nowhere. Then, "I nearly forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"When Ken Norris threw a drink in your face, he told my friend, 'Todd's just sick of payday.' What did that mean?"

Tobin got the response he'd expected.

Todd Ames slammed down the phone.

22

3:12 P.M.

Dear Aberdeen,

You remember that real macho guy who used to be in that cop series, Kevin Anderson? Well, guess who's sleeping (snoring, actually, except mentioning that kind of spoils the effect of the mood I'm trying to create here) right next to me?

God, I can't believe it! Right next to me! Sleeping!

How it happened was we had two more murders on this boat-next time I go on a cruise ship, it's definitely going to be on a different line-and I went with Tobin (the TV critic you always said was cute even if he was short!) to check it out and then Tobin went to do something and-

Well, anyway, Kevin asked me if I wanted to go have a drink and I figured, you know, what could be the harm.

But he meant a drink in his room.

I wasn't real sure but then-you know how easily I can be influenced sometimes-he told me he'd had a small part in Saturday Night Fever and had actually gone drinking with John Travolta-and then that's what we got.

Ken and I, I mean-drunk.

And then next thing-

Well, he's sleeping right next to me.

(Back now. I had to go tinkle.) But I have to admit he's kind of weird, Kevin is. When he thought I was passed out, I heard him on the phone talking about this meeting the people on 'Celebrity Circle' were going to have-right in the middle of the night.

Then after he was gone, I got up and barfed and then I went back to bed, still trying to figure out why the 'Celebrity Circle' people would have a meeting that late and then I heard somebody come up to the door outside and I thought it might be the killer again so I scooched under the covers and waited and waited and waited and I really prayed (I was saying Hail Mary's, Aberdeen, and I'm not even Catholic) and then I heard this little swishing noise like under the door and I realized that somebody had pushed something under there and then I heard steps hurrying away down the corridor and when I finally got up to see what it was, I found this envelope and it was like weirdo-rama, Aberdeen, because inside was this really crummy Xerox copy of a picture of this little six-month-old baby. Who would send something like that.

I overheard Kevin tell Cassie in the bar that he'd gotten something yesterday, too-then this second letter. Really strange.

"What you writin', babe?"

"Oh, good morning, Kevin."

"Good morning. So what're you writing?"

"Just kind of like a note."

"A note."

"Well, more like a letter."

"A letter?"

"Yes."

"To who?"

"Aberdeen."

"Who's that?"

"This sort of heavy-set woman who has a mustache I work with at the insurance company."

He was bored instantly. "Oh."

"I was telling her about last night."

They were naked. It was the middle of the afternoon and they were still naked from the night before and needing showers and…

He reached over and kissed her right breast (the one whose nipple was about a quarter-inch longer than the other one, which really bugged her when she thought about it, and she thought about it more than you'd think) and said, "So you told her about us."

"Well."

"It's OK, babe."

"It is?"

"Sure."

He grinned. "First 'cause I'm good and I know I am and second because, well, it's just human nature to spread the news when you sleep with a celebrity."

"It is?"

He was propped up on one elbow now and deftly stroking her shoulder. With his hair mussed, and slightly in need of a shave, and enough chest hair to make a grizzly envious, he really looked hunky. Really.

"Sure. First month I was in Hollywood, I slept with the late Constance LaRue."