"You seem angry, Mr. Tobin."
"You're spreading rumors about Cindy McBain."
"And what rumors would those be, Mr. Tobin?"
"You know damn well what rumors."
"I see."
"And you know damn well why you're spreading them."
"And why would that be, Mr. Tobin?"
"Because if everybody aboard the ship thinks she's the killer, they don't have to worry about the real killer running around loose. That's pretty goddamn despicable, if you ask me."
"The thing is, Mr. Tobin, I don't remember asking you."
Captain Hackett, still looking as if he were about to walk onto a movie set where he would portray a cruise ship captain, indicated a small shelf of bourbons and Canadian whiskeys behind his large oak desk. With the ceiling fan and the louvered blinds and the large bookcase with the sort of leather-bound editions that were never read, there was a certain studied snottiness about the room, capped by the gigantic globe on an easel in the corner, the sort of globe God probably had. "Bourbon?"
"Don't try to change the subject, Captain."
"I hardly think a bourbon would deter you from your appointed rounds, Mr. Tobin. I was simply being polite." For the first time, Tobin felt something positive about Hackett. There was a hint of irony in his tone and Tobin always believed, perhaps wrongly, that irony was a mark of genuine intelligence.
"Then I'll be polite and accept it."
"That's very charitable of you."
The captain poured healthy doses of sipping bourbon into large cut-glass snifters and handed one to Tobin.
Tobin took a sip, enjoyed it much more than he should have, then said, "You found out something this morning, didn't you?"
"Found out?"
"You and a Dr. Devane went to Cindy McBain's cabin. The doctor examined her for something. I got the impression he was disappointed. Which means that your case against Cindy is getting weaker and weaker."
"I wouldn't assume that, Mr. Tobin."
"If you really thought you had something against her, you would have had Cindy taken off the boat with the body and arrested."
The captain took his first sip of whiskey. Purple dusk tinted his white hair in a nimbus of electric blue. His Roman senator features were more imposing than ever. "You've heard of the principle of the greater good, Mr. Tobin."
"Yes. In Philosophy 101."
"Well, Mr. Tobin, sometimes I believe it's an unfortunate principle we must follow."
"In other words, give the passengers peace of mind at Cindy's expense."
Hackett smiled. He appeared both ironic and weary. "People are very emotional, especially in herds."
"Herds?"
"Like it or not, Mr. Tobin, we're animals, and we act like animals, especially in times of crisis." From a carved wooden humidor on the corner of his desk, he took a cigar, offering Tobin one as he did so.
"I quit a while back."
"Too bad. Cigars are a real pleasure."
"Well, smoking cigars isn't like smoking cigarettes, I suppose."
"Not quite as bad. Certainly not as bad for lung cancer rates. About the same for oral and throat cancer, unfortunately."
"You sure know how to talk a guy into taking a cigar."
"Even in our small pleasures, there is some element of risk, Mr. Tobin." He lifted his glass of bourbon. "The rate of esophagus cancer, for instance, increases with every drink of alcohol we have."
"Remind me to invite you to my next party."
"And it's the same with the principle of the greater good. There is some risk in it, I realize."
"That's nice of you, especially since you don't happen to be a frightened twenty-eight-year-old woman from Kansas City."
"She hardly seems helpless."
"Meaning what?"
"I have daughters of my own, Mr. Tobin. I don't like to think they're the sort who'd go to a man's room on the first night they met him."
"She's not perfect, Captain. That doesn't mean she's a terrible woman."
"Still."
Tobin had more bourbon. "Why did you have the doctor examine her this morning? What were you looking for?"
"Why should you need to know something like that, Mr. Tobin?"
"Because I'm trying to help Cindy."
"I seem to recall that you helped solve the murder of your partner."
"If you're saying I'm not a detective, you're right. But then neither are you." He finished his drink and set it down. "And I'd appreciate knowing why you had the doctor examine her."
"I'm afraid that's classified."
"'Classified' information on a cruise ship?"
Hackett smiled and not unpleasantly. "A holdover from my navy days, I suppose."
Tobin stood up. "You know she didn't do it and I know she didn't do it, and I'd like you to stop spreading those rumors just to cover your own ass."
"Your reputation seems to be true."
"Which reputation? There are several of them."
"That you're something of a hothead, Mr. Tobin."
"I just don't want to see her suffer anymore, Captain. Believe it or not, having somebody stabbed to death in your cabin is a very unnerving experience. She'll never forget it. Her whole life will be divided very neatly in two because of it." He was angry and he jabbed at the air with a small sharp finger. He wasn't tough but he was capable of rage and many times that was far more imposing than being tough. "She's a nice kid and she doesn't deserve to be used as a tranquilizer for the rest of the ship. You understand?"
"I don't like being threatened, Mr. Tobin."
"Right now, I don't give a damn what you like, Captain." He jabbed out the cigar he'd been smoking. "Right now, I don't give a damn at all.”