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“Your husband was gagged, Mrs. Young, with what is called a ball gag. It’s a bondage device used in S and M sex.”
Tessa Young said nothing, just held Walt’s stare.
“Did you and your husband engage in sexual behavior that included bondage?”
“For Christ’s sake, no!”
Walt paused.
“Your husband was bound with rope also commonly used in S and M sex. Do you possess any of that rope?”
“Of course not.”
“Would you allow me to look around your home?”
“My lawyer would tell me to let you look anywhere you wish, but would insist on a search warrant.”
Walt removed a slip of paper from his folder. “I’d never ask without one.”
“Look for whatever you want, Detective. Go through my drawers and take samples of my underwear, or whatever perverted thing you have on your mind.”
Walt continued undeterred. “We found blood, urine, and fingerprints in the bedroom of your Catskills home. It will be important to know which ones belong to you, as I’m sure your fingerprints will be found in the bedroom of the home you own. Are you willing to provide fingerprint samples and allow my technicians to swab your cheek for DNA analysis?”
“Am I a suspect in my husband’s murder, Detective Jenkins?”
Walt pursed his lips and opened his palms. “I’m collecting information at this point, Mrs. Young. With any homicide, I ask for samples from the spouse. It’s just part of the process.”
“You look like you just graduated high school. How many homicides could you possibly have worked before this one?”
Walt kept a stoic expression on his face and did not indulge her with an answer.
Tessa finally nodded. “Of course. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“I’ll arrange it for this afternoon.”
She nodded. Walt went back to his notepad.
“When you say you and your husband were trying to make your marriage work, what does that mean?”
“It means we were trying not to get a divorce.”
Walt waited.
“I’m pregnant,” Tessa finally said, as if admitting to a crime. “We thought if we had a child together, it would fix things. At least that’s what I thought.”
Walt closed his eyes a moment. He had perhaps pushed too hard. Still, he noted her pregnancy in his book and then stood.
“I’m sorry to make you talk about all this. I’m just trying to figure out who killed your husband.”
Tessa put a hand over her forehead, as if fighting off a migraine. Walt’s phone rang. It was headquarters calling.
“Excuse me,” he said, as he turned and answered. “Jenkins.”
“Hey, Walt, it’s Ken Schuster.”
Schuster was the lead crime scene technician assigned to the Young case.
“What’s happening, Ken?”
