“Did she like rough sex?”
He turned his head slightly and his mouth created small dimples. “Yes.”
“Nice memory, huh?”
The dimples went away and he readjusted back into the seat, facing forward.
After a while, he spoke: “I’m not really into that kind of kink, understand. But she liked it.”
“Liked what?”
He cleared his throat. “She enjoyed being handcuffed and, well, taken. She got off on a rape fantasy. The rougher the better. This was what she wanted, understand? Sometimes she wanted to be blindfolded. Sometimes she wanted… Why the hell am I telling you all this?”
“So you don’t have to explain it to your wife,” Will said.
“She wanted me to call her a little slut who deserved it. A cunt. Those were her words, not mine. She wanted to be choked, but I wouldn’t do it.”
“Did you ever role-play with her using a knife?”
“God, no!” His reaction seemed genuine.
Will asked if he owned a knife.
“A knife? Like kitchen knives?”
“A combat knife. A pocket knife?”
“No, detective. I haven’t had a pocket knife since I was a Boy Scout.”
“She had other lovers, you say. Did this make you angry.”
“Sure,” he said without hesitation. “Wouldn’t you be angry?”
“Did you fight over it?”
“Some.” He ran a hand over hair that no longer existed. “But, hell, I was very attracted to her. We kept on until I broke it off. I didn’t want to run the risk of taking some S.T.D. home. Anyway, other men made things…complicated. I needed her discretion.”
“So it made you angry, her playing around.”
“Yes, it did,” he said, without irony.
“When you fought, did you call her a little slut who was deserved it and a cunt? Did you ever hit her?”
His face struggled to maintain its composure. “No. She was promiscuous. She liked sex. She was a television star with lots of opportunities.”
“Any idea who these other men were?”
He shook his head.
Will had a few more routine questions. When was the last time he had been intimate with her? In March. But they had talked since then; he had admitted as much. He said she had called him at his office several weeks ago, he couldn’t be precise, asking if he wanted to come by. He had declined.
“And why were you calling her Saturday?” Will asked.
“I missed her,” he said. “She was a very passionate woman. And remember, we’re talking off the record. I’m nothing more than a cooperating citizen, trying to be helpful to the police. You haven’t even read me my rights.”
Will paused. “I’ll only do that if you’re a suspect.”
“Then I’ll ruin your life, detective.” He said it calmly, at the end of a pointed finger, his face set, but the tendons in his neck visible with tension. “I’ll sue your department for harassment. I’ll have your badge. I’ll get a settlement that will drive this city into bankruptcy. I’ll fuck you over, Borders.” He opened the door and stood.