1 9 2
S E A C H A N G E
They were quiet. Jurgen sat obediently, waiting for another question.
“Anyone enjoy this pig pile?” Jesse said.
“Well, it was . . . different,” Jurgen said. “If a man crews on this yacht circuit, he gets a lot of sex. It’s pretty routine after a while. This was . . .”
He rolled his right hand as he tried to think of the right word.
“It was unusual,” he said.
“How about Florence?”
“I guess she liked it,” Jurgen said. “She was quite interested in the filming, though.”
“And you did this because she asked you.”
“Yes. I liked Florence. Kon, my brother, and I both liked her.”
“She pay you?”
“No sir, absolutely not, sir. She did not pay us anything.”
“No offense,” Jesse said. “You have any idea how she died?”
“No sir.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“In the Caribbean, sir. On Mr. Damon’s boat.”
“Where’s Mr. Damon from?”
“Boat’s out of Miami, sir. I don’t know if Mr. Damon lives there.”
“First name?”
“Mr. Damon? I don’t know, sir.”
“And where do you live when you’re not on a boat?”
“Miami, sir. Kon and I have a condo.”
1 9 3
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
Jesse pushed a pad of paper toward Jurgen.
“Write down the address,” Jesse said.
Jurgen did. Jesse took the pad back and looked at it.
“Gimme your driver’s license,” Jesse said.
Jurgen produced it and Jesse compared addresses. They were the same. Jesse gave the license back and grinned at Jurgen.
“Suspicious by nature,” Jesse said.
“That is fine, sir. I know you have a job to do.”
Jesse nodded.
“I’d like it if you didn’t talk about this conversation.”
“They will ask me, sir.”
“Tell them it was routine. I simply asked you if you’d observed anything unusual on board.”
“My God, sir . . .”
Jesse put up his hand.
“Just say you told me no.”
Jurgen smiled.
“If you say so, sir,” he said.
1 9 4
41
J esse had a drink with Rita Fiore at the Seaport Hotel on the South Boston harbor- front.
“Thanks for coming out here through the Big fucking Dig,” Rita said. “But I’ve been in federal court most of the day and needed a double martini immediately after.”
“Glad to oblige,” Jesse said.
“You drinking Coke?”
“Yes.”
“On the wagon?”
“Eleven months,” Jesse said.
