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breakfast and sight-seeing in New Orleans.
    She suspected she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep so she decided to take a walk. Getting up quietly, she slipped on shorts and a T-shirt, then scribbled a note for Skip.
    Out on deck, she shivered in the morning air. She’d forgotten that they were no longer in the tropics, and it was only April. She paused to ponder what her children, on spring break from their elementary school, were doing at the moment. No doubt harassing their grandmother into fixing them her signature blueberry pancakes for breakfast.
    Ignoring her growling stomach, Kate walked briskly once around the perimeter of the deck. As she neared the area with the breakfast buffet, she spotted Clem sitting at a small table, a cup of coffee in front of him.
    Stifling the desire to cut and run, she approached him and offered her condolences.
    He looked at her with hollow, red-rimmed eyes. “She didn’t kill herself.” His voice was hoarse.
    It was an odd response to Kate’s “so sorry for your loss,” but she was used to witnessing grief. It often wiped away social graces and temporarily made people irrational. She debated whether to try to comfort the man or simply repeat her condolences and then leave him alone. Her compassionate side won out over the selfish part of her that just wanted to get on with her own vacation.
    “May I sit down?”
    Clem nodded toward the chair across from him. “She didn’t kill herself,” he repeated.
    Kate wasn’t sure what to say. Cora had seemed depressed up until yesterday, but telling Clem that would only make him feel guilty. Or guiltier , most likely.
    And she realized she had her own doubts. As she’d told the ship’s doctor, it seemed out of character for Cora to overdose on drugs, at least on injectable ones. Swallowing a handful of sleeping pills, maybe. But heroin or cocaine? Unlikely.
    “She told us she was afraid to be around drugs, for fear her husband would use it against her to try to get her daughter away from her.”
    “It was more than that. Her older brother overdosed in college. Her mother committed suicide a couple years later. Cora hated drugs, even marijuana. And she would never kill herself anyway, knowing what that does to loved ones left behind. She wouldn’t do that to her daughter.”
    Again Kate kept her first thought to herself. Statistically, having a mother who’d committed suicide increased the risk that Cora would go that route as well when despondent.
    “Did you talk to her at all yesterday?” she asked.
    “No. She called and left a message on my voicemail, asked if I wanted to go out with you guys after dinner last night. But when I went by her cabin, she didn’t answer. I tried to call her while I was getting ready for dinner but it went to voicemail. That’s when I got worried and came looking for you.”
    “You called her cabin, or her cell phone?”
    “Her cell. I knew she’d have it on, in case Carrie called her.”
    “Carrie’s her daughter, right?”
    Clem nodded, then picked up his coffee cup and downed the remains of its contents. He grimaced. His hand tightened around the china mug, his knuckles going white.
    Kate suspected he was fighting the urge to throw it. Anger would be the next stage in his grief.
    “Who the hell would kill her?” His words ended on a stifled sob as he dropped his gaze to the table.
    The question jolted Kate for a moment. But then, if Cora didn’t kill herself that meant someone had committed murder. She blurted out the first answer that came to mind.
    “Her soon-to-be-ex husband?”
    Clem looked up at her, his eyes wide.
    “How long ago did you all decide to go on this cruise?”
    “It was kinda last minute. About ten days before we sailed. Why?”
    “Did you have any trouble getting the tickets?”
    “Cora made the arrangements. She said something about having to pay extra to get the suite she wanted. Where are you going with this?”
    “I was wondering if he’d have time to