There wasn’t much walking-around room up top. The big steering wheel was worth the trip, though. Two green leather chairs behind it matched the hunter green of the canopy. It’s the little touches that make a yacht a home. Climbing down to the deck again, I eased around the back. The police tape at the cabin door sent a clear message, and I stood for a moment, debating whether to heed it or not. Marta was sure Tim had killed himself, though she’d seen fit to do his family a solid by smoothing it all over. The lack of prints still bothered me, though. I stared at the tape. At this point, it was merely there to discourage looters and looky-loos. I was neither, so I could reason that the tape wasn’t meant for me. It was PI logic, different from cop logic, but legit nonetheless. I turned the knob. The door was locked. And that was the universe’s big smackdown.

I checked around to see if anyone was looking, then eased my picklocks out of my bag. I slid in the pick, felt around for the tumblers, and gently jockeyed it up and down, feeling for the give, until I heard the simple lock pop free. It took less than a minute. I pushed the door open, ducked under the tape, and slipped inside, pulling out a compact flashlight and easing my way down the short, narrow steps.

It was musty and overly warm down below, as if the boat had been closed up tight for weeks, and I immediately felt pinned in, detecting a subtle whiff of seaweed and something else . . . turpentine? I crept up to the kitchen, which was almost as big as the one in my apartment, marveling at the creative use of space. Every pot and pan, knife and fork, had a nook, cranny, or slot, and each cabinet was firmly secured. I didn’t see any hatches needing battening. Padding off toward the boat’s pointy end, I swept my beam along, keeping it well below window level. I felt immediately claustrophobic, though I could tell efforts had been made to make the space down below feel and look far more spacious than it was; even on a yacht this size, economy had to be considered. I reached the master suite, done up in chocolate brown and rich tan, brass lamps and tables accenting it all. This was where opulence went to die, I thought, mesmerized by the king-size bed and ritzy harem pillows.