Johnny Liddell sat at the bar in the French Quarter Salon aft on the promenade deck, stared out through the glassed-in enclosure toward the shore. The last tender had already left the dock, was swinging in a wide arc to pour the last load of tourists up the gangway onto B deck. Half a dozen of the tables in the bar were occupied by early returnees, bedraggled looking and sweat stained.
Liddell swung back to face the bar, signaled the bartender for a refill. At the far end of the bar, the bartender was polishing his glasses, getting set for the onslaught that invariably followed a shore trip. His cigarette was expertly balanced on the bottom of an upturned glass, a shot glass full of scotch was hidden from sight by the stack of freshly polished glasses. By the time the cocktail hour was ov
