"I can assure you, everything that happened between me and my wife was consensual. We were married, for God's sakes!”
"A person can't consent to battery,” I said. “And they certainly can't consent to sexual assault."
Steve's jaw tightened, and his cheeks reddened. We’d certainly touched a nerve.
"Not that it's any of your business, but there was a time when Miriam liked to engage in…” he chose his words, “rough activities. I never intentionally did anything to hurt my wife. But there were times when she asked me to hit her. I did, but only because she wanted me to."
"Did you get off on it?" JD asked.
Steve glared at him. "That's none of your goddamn business!”
"Did you force her to have sex with your friends?" I asked.
Steve's eyes narrowed at me. "Where is this coming from? First, you tell me my wife was murdered. Now you’re asking me if I beat and tortured her. What’s wrong with you people? Am I under arrest? Are you going to charge me with something?”
"You want us to find out who killed your wife, don't you?" I said, reframing it.
"Yes, I want you to find out who killed my wife. Of course. I can tell you, it wasn't me. That’s for sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I don't think I want to answer any more of your questions without an attorney. Please get off my boat."
"It’s not really your boat, is it?" I said. "Do you have any weapons aboard?"
25
We had the right to do a routine compliance inspection of any boat on the water. We couldn’t rummage through drawers or do a thorough search, but if something was in plain view, it was fair game.
Steve looked on with a distressed face as we inspected the boat. “As you said, it’s not my boat. I can’t be responsible for compliance.”
We moved below deck. Right away, things weren’t looking good for Steve. I saw a pack of cigarettes on the counter, and a navy blue hoodie rested on a settee in the salon. I pointed to it. "Is that yours?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Not exactly hoodie weather, is it?"
"Have you been paying attention to the news? That cold snap is coming. They say the temperatures are going to get down to freezing. That's the only thing I have. I figure I ought to keep it handy.”
"It's never snowed as long as I’ve been in the Keys," JD said. "I'll believe it when I see it."
"Did you forget about your promise?" I muttered to him.
Jack frowned at me.
"We need to make sure you've got all the proper paperwork, registration, life vests, flares, fire extinguishers, etc.," I said.
"Knock yourself out. I don't know where Brian keeps any of that stuff."
"So, we have your permission to search the boat?"
"Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I don't have anything to hide. But if you find anything, remember, it's not mine.”
JD and I started rummaging through the boat. We had clear permission. I wasn't concerned about the fire extinguishers or the life preservers. I started sifting through drawers, looking for a 9mm or ammunition. Something. Anything.
I didn't have to search too long.
The inside of the boat was as sleek and modern as the outside. Hand-stitched leather seating, a galley with state-of-the-art appliances and quartz countertops, and touch screen controls. An L-shaped settee in the main salon offered a comfortable place to relax. Florida sun filtered in through the slim windows that ran the length of the salon.
In a drawer in the galley by the radio, I found a black 9mm pistol. After I pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, I picked up the weapon, dropped the magazine, and press-checked it. There was a round in the pipe, and it looked like a few cartridges weremissing from the magazine. It smelled like gunpowder and gun oil. "This yours?”
Steve's eyes rounded. "No. That must be Brian's."
