I stared him down for a long moment. “You were about to tell me where you were last night.”
“I wasn’t about to tell you shit.”
“You’re only making it more difficult on yourself.”
“How do you figure?”
“If you don’t have an alibi, it just bumps you up on my suspect list.”
“I was with a girlfriend.”
“Does this girlfriend have a name?”
He glared at me. “Yes. Roxanne.”
“I’ll need contact information for Roxanne.”
“I’ll tell her to call you.”
“Hey, if you want to stay high on my suspect list, that’s fine by me.”
“I can think of a lot of people who have more reason to kill my father than me.”
I lifted a curious brow. “That’s surprising, ‘cause right now you’re pretty high up there.”
He gave me a look of disdain.
“How about you give me a list?”
“I already told you. Tiffany’s drug dealer.”
“I need a name.”
“I don’t have a name.”
My frustrated eyes stared him down for another moment. "You mind if we take a look around your boat?”
"No. Get fucked. Come back with a warrant.”
"Don’t need a warrant for a routine compliance inspection.”
His eyes narrowed at me.
"You got everything in order?”
Hunter shifted uncomfortably, and his blue eyes flicked between the two of us. "You can't just come aboard and do whatever you want.”
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
"I didn't kill my father. Okay?”
"Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Hunter finally got the message that this wasn’t optional and reluctantly led us below deck.
The boat was stylish and clean. A functional design with high-quality materials and a sense of elegance. Custom leather cushions with deviated stitching. Dark cherry woodwork. A nice galley with an induction stove and refrigerator. A spacious aftguest berth, and a forward V-berth with a private en suite. The boat had all the latest gadgets.
I figured out right away why Hunter didn't want us to come below deck. A glass bong, along with a tray of weed, sat on the table across from the galley. Looked like fresh bud. Smelled like it too.
