LITMIR.BIZ

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really. The bug bit me late.”

      “What did you do before that?”

      He shrugged. “I was a lawyer.”

      I tried not to stare at him. “Let me get this straight. You gave up being a lawyer so you could play Mark Twain for a bunch of tourists on a riverboat?”

      “Yeah, pretty crazy, isn’t it?” he asked with a grin. “But there comes a time when you’ve got to do what you want in life, or what’s the point?”

      I couldn’t argue with that.

      “What about you?” he went on. “Did you always want to be a travel agent?”

      “Well…not really. But once I got into the business, I liked it.” I told him about working for one of the big agencies in Atlanta until I finally decided to take that leap of faith and open my own business. As I told him, I saw that he had done basically the same thing by leaving law and becoming an actor. That was a leap of faith, too.

      I went on to tell him about my daughter, Melissa, and her husband, Luke, and my twin teenage nieces, Augusta and Amelia. I didn’t tell him anything about what had happened during the first Gone With the Wind tour the year before. I didn’t want to scare him off.

      Both of us lost track of the time for a while, a sign that we were enjoying the conversation. Eventually Mark glanced at his watch and said, “I’ve got to go get ready for the performance. Maybe we can talk some more afterward.”

      “I’d like that,” I told him.

      He left the salon. I checked the time myself and saw that I was almost too late for dinner. I had forgotten all about it while I was talking to Mark. With a wave to the bartender, I left the salon.

      Most of my clients who planned to have dinner on the boat had probably eaten already, I thought as I headed down the stairs to the main deck. But a few of them might still be in the dining room, so I headed that way, figuring I could at least put in an appearance and maybe get something to eat. Just something to tide me over, though, because I was already thinking about suggesting a late supper to Mark….

      The sobs coming from a dark area along the rail caught my attention and made me freeze. I didn’t know who was there. All I could see was a shadowy figure bending over the railing. I thought about going to find a steward, but that seemed a little cowardly. Instead I said, “Hello? Is there something I can do for you?”

      The figure jerked around from the rail and came at me.

      CHAPTER 5

      I started to jump back and raise my arms to defend myself, but then I recognized Louise Kramer. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that the meek little woman was attacking me, so I stayed where I was. Sure enough, Louise didn’t do anything except hug me and get the shoulder of my dress wet where her tears were falling.

      “Why, honey,” I managed to say, “what in the world is wrong?”

      She shook her head and didn’t answer. I patted her on the back and made the sort of vaguely comforting noises that people always do in situations like that.

      Then a possible explanation occurred to me. I said, “Did that big ol’ husband of yours do something? Did he hurt you, Louise?” My blood started to boil at the thought.

      That finally jolted her out of her teary silence. “What? You mean Eddie? Oh, no! Eddie would…would never hurt me.”

      I wasn’t so sure about that. I hadn’t liked the look of Eddie Kramer earlier in the day. He was nearly twice the size of his wife, and from the sound of the way he’d talked to whoever was on the phone, he liked to bully people. Size and meanness were a bad combination.

      “Are you sure? I can call somebody, or go find a security officer—”

      She jerked away from me. “No! I told you, Eddie didn’t do anything to me. I…I’m just upset. It’s personal. There’s nothing you can do to help.”

      One thing I’ve learned in the travel business is your clients’ personal lives really aren’t any of your business. As long as they don’t disrupt the tour or break any laws, you’re better off giving them their privacy.

      That’s what I did then, backing off and holding up my hands. “I’m sorry,” I told Louise. “Whatever’s wrong, I didn’t mean to intrude. But I meant it when I said that if there’s anything I can do, I’d like to help.”

      She took a handkerchief or a tissue from her purse. In the dim light, I couldn’t tell which. She used it to dab at her eyes and then took a deep breath, composing herself with a visible effort.

      “Thank you, Ms. Dickinson.”

      “Delilah.”

      She summoned up a smile. “Delilah. I promise you, there’s nothing you can do. I’ll be all right in a little while.”

      “Well…okay. If you’re sure.”

      “I’m certain.”

      My eyes were more used to the dim light now. I could see that she didn’t have any bruises or black eyes or anything like that. Nothing visible, anyway. And she had sounded like she was telling the truth when she said that her husband hadn’t hurt her. I knew I should have been ashamed of myself for jumping to that conclusion, but I wasn’t. Not after I’d seen the way some women were treated in their marriages.

      “I was just on my way to the dining room to see if there’s anything left to eat,” I told her. “If you haven’t had dinner yet, why don’t you join me?”

      “Oh, I…I couldn’t eat anything right now. But thank you for asking. I…I think I’ll go back to my cabin and lie down for a little while.”

      “You’re comin’ to the salon for the Mark Twain performance, aren’t you?”

      “I’ll try,” she said with a weak smile, but I didn’t honestly believe that I’d see her there.

      She walked toward her cabin—or toward what I hoped was really her cabin, after the trick Ben Webster had pulled on me earlier. I didn’t think Louise Kramer had any reason to try to fool me. I watched, anyway, as she took a key from her purse, unlocked a cabin door, went inside, and shut the door softly behind her. She struck me as the sort of woman who had never slammed a door in her life.

      That was an odd little incident, I thought as I started toward the dining room again, but it wasn’t that uncommon for somebody to get emotional and lose control momentarily while on a vacation. Traveling was really stressful for some people, after all.

      More of my clients than I expected were still in the dining room when I got there. I helped myself to some appetizers at the buffet table and then circulated among the guests, asking them how they were enjoying the trip so far and things like that. Just pleasant chitchat.

      I mentioned the Mark Twain performance in the salon to everyone, too, urging them to attend. I wanted Mark Lansing to have a good crowd for his first performance, although, when I stopped to think about it, he might have preferred not to have so many people looking at him. I knew that if I were an actor or a singer or something like that, the bigger the crowd, the more butterflies I’d have fluttering around in my stomach.

      But it was too late to do anything about that now. Quite a few people expressed an interest in watching the performance, so as the time approached eight o’clock, I led a good-sized group out of the dining room and up the stairs to the second deck. We went into the salon and found places to sit at the bar and at the tables, and there were comfortable chairs and divans scattered around the sumptuously furnished room.

      I didn’t see Eddie or Louise Kramer anywhere in the salon, but that didn’t surprise me, even though I was a little disappointed. I’d been hoping that Louise would feel better and would want to take in the show.

      A few minutes later, the double doors from the deck opened, and Mark Twain ambled in, cigar in hand. He went to the

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