Page 63 of Nightshade

Stilwell was using a well-worn and effective interview technique of taking a witness back through what was perceived as a mundane experience and drawing out details with questions that moved the story moment by moment.

“There was the usual,” Forbes said. “Dishes in the sink. I cleaned it all, put everything on the rack. I took out the trash and then mopped.”

“Where’d you get the mop?” Stilwell asked.

“There’s a closet in the galley where the cleaning supplies are.”

He snapped his fingers as he remembered something.

“That’s right,” he said. “The mop head was missing, and I never leave it that way.”

“Explain that to me,” Stilwell pressed.

“Last thing I do is either bleach the mop head or put on a new one so it’s clean and good to go for next time. Mr. Colbrink likes everything super-clean. He’s a germophobe. He’s always got the hand sanitizer, and he wipes his phone constantly. Half the time, he’s wearing a mask. Even on the boat. He was the one who told me to always keep a clean mop. If you start with a dirty mop, you’re not gonna get a clean boat. He told me that the first day he hired me like six years ago.”

Stilwell recalled that when they’d driven from Malibu to the marina the night before, Colbrink had put on a mask.

“So the mop head was missing,” he said.

“Right,” Forbes said. “I had to put a new one on, and that isn’t how I leave things.”

Stilwell was thinking about how this seemingly insignificant detail about the mop fit with his evolving theory of the crime.

“Is that important?” Forbes asked.

Stilwell came out of his reverie.

“Uh, it could be,” he said. “Every detail counts. You remember anything else? Did you find the mop head that was missing in the trash or somewhere?”

“No, it was just gone.”

“Okay. Were any other cleaning tools used?”

“Yeah, I had to open a new bottle of Three-Oh-Three,” Forbes said.

“What’s Three-Oh-Three?”

“It’s the marine cleaner I put in the bucket for the mop. Somebody left an empty bottle in the supply cabinet, so I opened another.”

Stilwell felt another charge go through his chest.

“What happened to the empty bottle?” he asked.

“It got tossed with the stuff from the fridge I cleaned out,” Forbes said.

Stilwell’s hope for a surface containing fingerprints was immediately dashed.

“You mean you took it to a dumpster or something at the marina?” he asked.

“Yeah, they have trash cans there,” Forbes said. “At the end of the dock.”

Stilwell nodded. He thought he had gotten from Forbes everything he could in a first-round interview.

“Okay, we’re going to take a break,” he said. “I’m going to call your PO and see what we can do about the warrant. You can stay here or I can put you in a cell where there’s a bed if you want to lie down. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to work this out.”

“Man, can’t you just let me split?” Forbes pleaded. “I mean, you know where I live. I’m not going to take off or anything.”

Stilwell shook his head.