Chapter 24
The DMV had Steve Renick still living in Whispering Heights, but we didn’t find him at the house. A neighbor said he moved out and was living on a friend’s boat in the Mangrove Bay Marina, or so he heard.
We drove over and found Steve’s black Lexus SUV in the parking lot. Jack parked the Porsche, and we hopped out. I called Isabella and asked her to track Steve’s phone.
I banged on the stern and shouted, “Coconut County."
A moment later, Steve climbed the wide companionway and poked his head out of the hatch. He looked at us with quizzical eyes.
Steve was an average-looking guy in his mid-40s with short brown hair, a slightly receding hairline, and a square face. Miriam was a little out of his league. "Can I help you?"
I made introductions and said, "I'm afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. You mind if we come aboard?"
Steve shrugged, then joined us in the cockpit as we boarded.
He was fit and had some muscle on him. By the looks of things, I figured he was on 100mg of testosterone a week. He fit the general description of the assailant.
I played it like I would any other death notification. "You might want to have a seat.”
Steve’s face was still wrinkled with confusion. "Is something wrong?"
"It's about your wife. I’m sorry to tell you she’s deceased.”
He lifted a surprised brow but didn't seem upset. "She's dead?”
I nodded and watched him carefully.
He processed the information, and it took a moment to sink in. His face twisted again as he thought, staring at the deck. Then he looked at me. "How did you find me?"
Not exactly the question I was expecting. Usually, the first one from the innocent is “How?”
"Your neighbors said you were living on a friend’s boat,” I said. “I take it things weren’t great at home.”
Steve finally took a seat on the settee. He shook his head. "They haven't been great for a long time." He stared at the deck for a moment in a daze. "I guess we’re not going to patch things up now." Steve paused. "I'm sorry, I'm a little stunned. How did you say she died?"
"I didn't.”
He looked at me with a wrinkled brow. "Don't you know?”
I ignored the question. "Have you been here all afternoon?”
"Yeah. I'm just taking a few days off work to get my head straight.
" He took a deep breath. "I guess if you’ve been talking to the neighbors, you know we were in the process of getting a divorce. Miriam wanted me to leave the house. I landed here.” He paused, then connected the dots. “Are you saying Miriam was murdered?”
I nodded.
Steve gave me a suspicious look. "You don't think I had something to do with it, do you?"
"No, of course not,” I said, trying to put him at ease. “Just trying to rule you out. Spouses are always a suspect. A matter of procedure."
A frown tensed his face. "Makes sense. Just so you know, I didn’t have anything to do with it. I swear.”
"You got anybody that can verify your whereabouts?”
He shrugged. "Not really. I guess you could talk to the other folks in the marina. When did this happen again?”
“Within the last few hours.”
Isabella told me Steve’s phone had been off the grid since early this morning.
It only popped up on the grid after the murder, when he was back aboard the boat.
I couldn't use that information in a court of law without getting it through legitimate means.
It would take some time to subpoena phone records.
That alone wasn't enough probable cause.
"Are you saying you haven't been out all day?"
"Well, I went out for breakfast. Then I played 18 with a buddy, then came back here in the afternoon. Fell asleep and took a nap. Next thing I know, you guys are banging on the hull.”
I shared a doubtful look with JD. I took everything Steve said with a grain of salt.
“Why was your phone off all day?” I asked.
His brow knitted. “How do you know that?”
“We know a lot of things,” I said.
“It died on the course. I forgot to charge it last night.”
"I'll need the name of your golfing buddy.”
Steve nodded. “Brian Edwards.”
"Where do you play?" JD asked.
"The Country Club.”
"What did you shoot?"
Steve frowned. "Dogshit. 89."
"Not terrible."
"It ain't winning any tournaments, I'll tell you that."
"Tell me about your relationship with your wife," I said.
Steve looked at me and shrugged. "What do you want to know? It was great for a few years, then it wasn't.”
"What went wrong?”
He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I wanted kids, she didn't. I gave her a little time to build her career and her practice.
Years started flying by like nothing. I figured she'd come around eventually, but the idea never took.
She was starting to run out of time. I told her, every year we wait is a year we don't have with our kids.
" He sighed, and a frown tightened his lips.
"Maybe I pressured her too much. She withdrew.” Steve shook his head, mourning the loss.
“I mean, there were other things too, but I think that was the brunt of it.
Irreconcilable differences, as they say. "
"You ever get in any arguments?"
That elicited a chuckle. "No such thing as a married couple that doesn't get into arguments from time to time."
"Did those arguments ever turn violent?”
His face twisted. "No.”
"You ever hit your wife?”
His scowl persisted. "What kind of questions are these?”
"Just routine."
"They don't sound routine. Sounds like you've got an agenda. And I don't think I like it."
"I'm sorry. I’m just trying to rule you out. That's all.”
He gave me a doubtful look.
"We talked to a witness who said Miriam showed up with bruises on multiple occasions.”
"What witness?"
"I can't reveal that information."
"So, just anyone can make up outlandish stories, and I don't have the right to defend myself or confront my accuser?”
"Apparently, your wife confided in this person and admitted that you two had quite the spicy sex life."
He laughed. "That's a good one. My wife hasn't slept with me in over six months.”
"Maybe it's because you tied her up, beat her, and let your buddies run a train on her,” JD muttered, unable to hold back.
Steve’s scowl deepened. "What!? Where are you getting this from?”
I said nothing.
"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?"