Текст книги "The Chill of Night"

Автор книги: James Hayman

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

‘You saying one of the kids might have done this?’

‘It’s possible, but I doubt it.’ McCabe knew a street kid leaving obscure messages from the Bible was more than unlikely, and the same kid driving a new BMW would be as conspicuous as an elephant dancing a waltz. ‘We just want to talk to them. Somebody may know something.’

Kelly nodded. ‘How far back do you want to go?’

‘Since Goff started working with you.’

‘That’s over three years. Probably a dozen kids. Maybe more. You may have trouble finding some of them.’

‘We have resources. We’ll also want to interview the rest of the staff.’

‘Okay. I’ll e-mail you both lists as soon as we can put them together. What’s your e-mail?’

McCabe handed Kelly his card, then asked, ‘You ever hear the name Abby Quinn?’

‘Of course. Abby lived here for about six months last year. She’s older than our usual profile, but her psychiatrist is also on the board, and he thought the experience would be good for her. We treated her as kind of an unpaid intern. She did a little of everything.’

‘What’s her psychiatrist’s name?’

‘Wolfe. Dr Richard Wolfe.’

It amazed McCabe once again what a small town Portland was. You kept running into the same people everywhere. ‘How can Abby afford a fancy doctor like Wolfe?’

‘Medicare. Abby’s on disability. At least she was when she lived here.’

‘Was Dr Wolfe right? About Sanctuary House being good for her?’

‘I think so. Abby’s a diagnosed schizophrenic, but she stayed on her meds, did her chores, and tried hard to fit in. She did well.’

‘Why did she leave?’

There was a slight hesitation before Kelly answered. ‘She was ready. It was time for her to go home.’

‘No other reason?’

‘No.’

‘Did she ever meet Lainie?’

‘I don’t know. They may have bumped into each other once or twice. Lainie never worked with her. Only Dr Wolfe did that.’

‘Do you know where she is now?’

‘Harts Island, I imagine. That’s where she lives.’

‘She’s not here, is she?’

Kelly squinted at him, then shook his head. ‘No. What would she be doing here?’

‘Just wondering. Did Abby make any particular friends while she was here? Kids she might still be in contact with?’

‘None that I can think of. Why?’

‘We need to talk to her.’

‘In connection with the murder?’

‘Yes. Can you think of anyone here she palled around with?’

‘Check with Wolfe. He’d be the first one I’d ask. Or go out to Harts Island and ask her. Is this going to take much longer?’

McCabe ignored the question. ‘How’s Sanctuary House doing for money?’

‘Finances are not so great. They never are for organizations like ours. We depend mostly on small foundation grants and donations from well-meaning citizens. We don’t accept any state or city money. That gives us more freedom to operate.’

‘You said Lainie was a good fund-raiser.’

‘Yes. She was. In fact, she helped bring in a gift of ten thousand bucks just a month ago.’

‘You get a lot of gifts that size?’

‘A few, but it’s never enough. Just look around you. Do we look rich? We’ve got building violations coming out of our ears, which the city, thank God, has so far ignored. They don’t want my kids back on the street any more than I do. Or your department does, for that matter. Without Lainie running interference, it’ll be tough.’

‘Any danger you’ll have to close your doors?’

Kelly shrugged. ‘It’s always a danger. Always a struggle. Maybe you’d like to make a contribution?’

McCabe smiled. ‘Maybe I would. How does one hundred and eighty thousand dollars sound to you?’

Kelly looked at McCabe curiously. ‘You’re kidding, of course – but that kind of money would be a game changer for this place.’

‘No, I’m not kidding. Lainie had life insurance. Sanctuary House is the beneficiary.’

‘You’re serious?’ Kelly looked stunned. ‘One hundred and eighty thousand dollars?’

‘You didn’t know about it?’

‘No. She never said a word.’

‘I guess she didn’t plan on dying,’ said McCabe. ‘Where exactly were you last Tuesday between eleven at night and three in the morning?’

‘I already told you.’

‘Tell me again.’

‘Right here.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Are you suggesting that I may have killed Lainie for the money?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything. Now that you bring it up, did you?’

‘No.’

‘You’re sure?’ ‘I’m sure.’

‘So I guess that means you wouldn’t mind coming down to police headquarters this afternoon so we can get a set of your prints and a DNA sample.’

‘Because everyone’s a suspect?’

‘Yes. Everyone.’

Kelly agreed to go to Middle Street, and McCabe left.

Eighteen

It was nearly one thirty before McCabe got back to 109. He slipped the shards of Henry Ogden’s china cup into an evidence bag and locked it in the bottom drawer of his desk. Then he called Joe Pines, the DNA guru at the state crime lab in Augusta. Saturday or not, McCabe was pretty sure Pines would be in his lab. He’d never known Joe to be anywhere else.

‘Hey, Joe, I’ve got a question.’

‘Relevant to a case or just a question?’

‘Just a question. Let’s say someone drinks from a coffee cup and the cup is allowed to dry out for, I don’t know, days or maybe even weeks. Will you still be able to pick up DNA from the guy’s saliva?’

‘Might not be as intact as we ideally like – so there could be some issues with long sequencing reads, but yes, we should be able to get you something. Who’s the guy?’

‘Like I said, just a question.’

‘Okay. Let me know when you’re going to send me the cup.’

He’d have to check what day trash got picked up on Ledge Road in Cape Elizabeth so he’d know what day it was he found the bits of china in the bin by the side of the road.

Next call was to Tony Krawchek, head of the PPD’s three-man Narcotics unit.

‘Hiya, Mike. That frozen stiff you guys found last night still frozen stiff?’ Krawchek guffawed. Another comedian.

‘Yeah, still frozen. That’s what I’m calling you about. You ever hear of a small-time dealer who calls himself the hot-dog man?’

‘Probably a guy named Kyle Lanahan. Runs a sausage stand in Monument Square. Basically an amateur, but he peddles a little blow from time to time. We just haven’t been able to catch him at it yet.’

‘You have any problem if we bring him in?’

‘What’s your interest?’

‘Goff had a bag in her car. I’m pretty sure it came from him.’

‘Sure. Why not? While you’re at it, see if you can get him to tell you who his distributor is. That’s what we really want to know.’

McCabe agreed, called Tom Tasco, and asked him to invite Mr Lanahan in for an interview.

After he hung up, he googled the name Wallace Albright. He got more than four hundred hits. It only took a couple of minutes to narrow them down to the right one, Wallace Stevens Albright, a prominent attorney practicing in Camden. Albright had been married three times. His second wife was named Martha Tynes Goff. McCabe googled that name and found a number of articles mostly concerning the fact that Martha Tynes Goff, Lainie’s mother, had committed suicide in May 1995. The end of Lainie’s sophomore year at Colby. Finally he went to Google Images and found and printed a couple of images of Mr Albright. Good-looking guy. Thin face. Angular features. Gray hair.

I don’t think she’d want him notified of anything, Archer had said.

But he’s alive?

Not as far as Lainie was concerned.

Later he’d asked Kelly, Do you suppose Lainie went through an abusive childhood herself?

I don’t know, but that’s what I’ve always thought.

As soon as he could, he’d head up to Camden and have a little chat with Mr Albright. But there were a few other things he had to do first.

Maggie wandered over.

‘Pick up the other line,’ he said. ‘I’m calling Burt Lund.’

She pulled over a chair while McCabe made the call. In Maine all homicides are handled out of the attorney general’s office, and Assistant AG Burt Lund was McCabe’s favorite prosecutor. He just hoped the prosecutor wouldn’t be halfway down a slope at Sunday River and unable to talk. He wasn’t.

‘You know, McCabe, I didn’t give you my cell number so you could pester me at home on weekends.’

‘C’mon, Burt, you know how hurt you’d be if I didn’t slip you the skinny first on murder cases.’

‘Are we talking Goff?’

‘Who else? By the way, Maggie’s on the other line.’

‘Hiya, Mag.’

‘Hi, Burt.’

‘What do you need?’ asked Lund.

‘A warrant to search Elaine Goff’s office at Palmer Milliken. Henry Ogden won’t let us in. Claims it’ll compromise client confidentiality.’

‘It probably would.’

‘Says he might try to quash.’

‘Hmmm. That seems excessive. There are ways Palmer Milliken could segregate sensitive client material. Ogden ought to know that.’

‘I think he’s hiding something.’

‘Do you think he’s the killer?’

‘I think it’s possible. I’m pretty sure he and Goff were sleeping together, and yes, Burt, I do know screwing around at the office doesn’t necessarily translate to killing.’

‘No, it doesn’t. Rumor is Hank’s been dipping his highly privileged wick into one good-looking associate or another for years. As far as I know, most of them are still alive. A few have even become partners.’

‘There may be a difference here,’ McCabe told Lund.

‘Really? Keep going.’

‘The night Goff disappeared, Lainie and Ogden had a late meeting in his office. I think Henry promised her an early partnership. That night he told her she wasn’t getting it. According to the building’s security guard, Lainie left looking majorly pissed. I’m wondering if she threw a hissy fit when Ogden turned her down. Maybe threatened to tell the wife about the affair. Or the other partners. Or maybe really go public and accuse the firm of sexual harassment. What do you think?’

‘Would he kill her over that?’ asked Maggie. She sounded doubtful.

‘Given Ogden’s domestic situation, it’s possible,’ said Lund. ‘How much do you two know about the lovely and talented Mrs Ogden?’

‘Nothing,’ said McCabe.

‘Among her friends, Barbara Milliken Ogden is known as Attila the Hen.’

‘Cute,’ said Maggie. ‘What do her enemies call her?’

‘Beats me, but nothing good. She’s not only unattractive, she’s nasty and vindictive. Handsome Henry married her for her money.’

‘Her maiden name is Milliken?’

‘Yes. My guess is Barbara tolerates Henry’s little sexcapades as long as they remain discreet, but if any of Henry’s playmates ever humiliated her in public, she’d cut his preppy little balls off.’

‘What are we talking about here?’ asked Maggie. ‘An expensive divorce? Big alimony payments?’

‘Alimony’s not an issue. Henry makes a good living, huge compared to the likes of us, but the really serious money in the family is all Barbara’s. Some comes from the Milliken side, but a lot more comes from her mother’s family. Ever hear of the Dexters?’

‘As in Dexter Oil?’ asked McCabe. Dexter’s red diamond-shaped logo stared McCabe in the face practically every morning, painted, as it was, on the sides of all those big storage tanks on the South Portland side of the harbor.

‘Yeah, as in. We’re talking big bucks here. Probably hundreds of millions. If Babs ever kicks Henry out of the honeymoon cottage, he won’t see another dime of it. Ever. He might even lose his job. Dexter Oil was Palmer Milliken’s first big corporate client. Established the firm as a major player back in the fifties. And it’s still number one by a wide margin.’

‘You think Barbara could get him dumped?’ asked McCabe.

‘I know she could. Dexter’s still privately held, and Barbara’s the majority shareholder. If she told Henry’s partners they’d lose Dexter as a client if they didn’t make Henry walk the plank, he’s done. Finished. Toast. He’d be lucky to get a job as dog catcher in this town, let alone as an attorney.’

‘Pretty dumb to put all that at risk just to get into Lainie’s pants,’ said Maggie.

‘Also pretty common. If you recall, we had a president not so long ago who couldn’t keep his fly zipped either. Not to mention a gaggle of governors and senators. I’m just wondering what’s in Lainie’s office that’s making Henry so determined to keep you out.’

‘Who knows?’ said Maggie. ‘Phone records. Pictures. E-mails. If proof of the affair exists, Ogden’ll want to find it before we do.’

‘That would suggest Henry’s not the killer,’ said McCabe. ‘If he was, he would have started looking two weeks ago. Right after he nabbed her.’

‘On the other hand, if he only heard about the murder last night,’ said Maggie, ‘he’d want to keep us out until he had a chance to look.’

Maggie was right. Which meant it was probably Ogden who tossed Goff’s apartment last night. Right after he found out she was dead. Maybe he checked out the office, too. Or maybe he didn’t have a master key and couldn’t get in until Monday morning. There are ways Palmer Milliken could segregate sensitive client material. All kinds of sensitive material, McCabe decided.

‘Okay,’ Lund said, ‘let’s see if we can discover what it is Henry might be looking for. Write up the affidavit, and we’ll find a judge to issue the order. Of course, if Ogden tries to quash, we could be wrangling about it for a few days anyway.’

They hung up.

‘Get your coat and let’s get some lunch,’ McCabe said to Maggie. ‘We’ll talk while we eat.’

Tallulah’s, halfway up Munjoy Hill, was jammed with the late weekend brunch crowd. As usual Tallulah was guarding the door. She greeted McCabe with her customary hug, squeezing her ample bosom into his chest. ‘How you doing, Mike? Heard there was a murder in town last night. Some lawyer lady.’

‘I’m good, Lou – and yeah, you heard right. In fact, we need a quiet table in the corner where we can talk business.’ He looked around the crowded room. ‘That is, if you can find one.’

She scanned her clipboard and made a few notations. ‘No problem, Sergeant. I’ve got your reservation right here.’ She looked up with a smile. ‘You’re right on time.’

Tallulah led them past a noisy gaggle of thirty-somethings, hanging at the bar, drinking beer and Bloody Marys and waiting for tables. Like they say in the American Express ads, membership has its privileges. She seated them in back, about as far from the action as possible. ‘Can I start you two off with a couple of Bloodys?’

McCabe pondered the question and was about to nod yes, but Maggie beat him to the punch. ‘Not today, Lou. We’re working.’

‘Yeah.’ McCabe sighed. ‘Mag’s right. Just make it a Virgin. And a burger and a chopped salad for me.’

Maggie handed back her menu. ‘Make it two. Medium rare. And an order of onion rings.’

‘I’ll go tell Mandy.’ Tallulah passed on their order to the pretty blonde who was serving drinks two tables away. Mandy was a part-time waitress and a full-time artist and friend of Kyra’s. Like most artists, she couldn’t make a living selling her work, so she waited tables.

‘How come you never get fat?’ asked McCabe. ‘You eat like a twelve-year-old. You don’t exercise. And you still look great.’

Maggie smiled brightly. ‘Just a metabolic powerhouse, I guess.’ She waited till Tallulah was out of earshot before continuing. ‘You know, I didn’t say anything to Burt, but I have some other problems with Ogden as the freak.’

‘Other than his not checking out her office in the two weeks since she was nabbed?’

She nodded. ‘Yeah, other than that. Ogden just doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d leave obscure quotes from the Bible in his victim’s mouth. The Book of Amos? I mean, they don’t teach that kind of stuff at Harvard Law, do they? Plus hauling her body back and forth to Harts Island? Why would he do that? If Ogden was going to kill someone, he’d keep it simple. You know the headline by heart. “Woman assaulted and slain in deserted garage. Assailant flees.” Or maybe assailant doesn’t flee. Maybe he dumps her body in Casco Bay or maybe in the middle of nowhere. Maine’s a big state. Over thirty-five thousand square miles, most of it wilderness. Could’ve been months, years, maybe never before anyone found her.’

McCabe nodded. ‘I agree. I don’t think Ogden’s our guy either. I didn’t tell you, but I paid a visit to Goff’s apartment after we got back from Harts last night.’

Maggie looked at him quizzically. ‘Really? Why? I appreciate your devotion to duty, but couldn’t your visit have waited till morning?’

‘I wanted to see how Goff lived. Anyway, somebody tossed the place between the time you and Jacobi left, which was what?’

‘A little before eleven.’

‘Okay. I got there at roughly 3:30 A.M. In other words, after Goff’s murder was announced. I’m willing to bet the searcher was Ogden.’

Mandy brought their drinks. ‘Burgers’ll be here in a sec,’ she said. When she was gone, McCabe asked Maggie for a rundown of what transpired at the 10:00 A.M. detectives’ meeting. ‘Anybody make any progress?’

‘Not much. The canvass went oh-for-four. Nobody saw anything. Nobody heard anything. Nobody knew anything. The only person who showed any interest was Goff’s landlord.’

‘Andrew Barker?’

‘Yeah, and he showed too much. Kept asking questions about the murder like he was getting off on it. Creepy little guy. Wondered if he might not be our pither.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘He snuck into the apartment while I was there, and we had a little chat. Why don’t you tell me the rest of what you have first.’

‘Just a bunch of odds and ends. First thing this morning I ran a ViCAP check to see if I could find any other cases where a female victim had been raped and pithed. Found a couple.’

‘Possible connection?’

‘Only as a copycat. One of the bad guys is dead. The other, who killed at least six women that way, is currently doing life without parole at a supermax in Youngstown, Ohio. I also e-mailed other departments in Maine and New Hampshire plus the RCMP. So far nobody’s reporting anything similar.’

‘Cleary hear back from Verizon?’

‘Yeah. They sent him a rundown on calls to and from Goff’s mobile for the past three months. He’s going over the list now, culling out people we might want to talk to.’

‘Any calls on the twenty-third?’

‘Nothing. If she called anybody that day, she must have used her office phone. Last outgoing was to the Chinese restaurant Brian mentioned on St John Street. That was at 8:37 P.M., Thursday the twenty-second.’

‘Let me guess. She ordered chicken with pea pods.’

Maggie nodded. ‘Three incoming messages after that. Two from the Bacuba Resort wanting to know what the story was on her not showing up. And one from a friend named Janie in New York, who said, quote, “What we talked about is cool. If you get this message on Aruba, give me a call. If not, no big deal. I’ll see you when you get home.” That was it.’

‘What we talked about is cool?’

‘Yes.’

McCabe tried Archer’s cell. There was no answer. Just her voice asking him to leave a message. ‘Ms. Archer. This is Detective McCabe again. Would you please give me a call as soon as possible? Thank you.’ He clicked his phone off. ‘Goff have a landline?’

‘Didn’t see one in her apartment.’

He hadn’t either. ‘E-mails?’

Maggie shrugged. ‘There was no computer in the apartment, but someone like Lainie must have had a laptop. Could have been with her when she got nabbed. Or it could be sitting in her office downtown.’

‘Or Ogden could have found it and tossed it into Casco Bay. Anything else?’

‘Yeah. I checked with my pal at Vessel Services.’ Maggie opened her notebook and leafed through the pages till she found the right one. ‘Only one boat came in for service Wednesday night. The Good and Plenty. It stayed overnight and pulled out at four on Thursday morning. I was able to chat with the captain by satphone. He said he noticed the car sitting there but didn’t see it come in or who was driving it. Nobody on the crew saw anything either.’

McCabe put the celery stick he’d been gnawing on back in his drink. ‘Cleary still working on the ferry crew rosters?’

‘He’s down at the terminal talking to deckhands now. Said he’d have everyone covered by –’ She looked at her watch. ‘Pretty soon now. Also I stopped by at Winter Haven Hospital this morning, and, after forty-five minutes of bullshit over privacy issues, I finally got them to give me the name and contact number for Abby Quinn’s shrink.’

‘Dr Richard Wolfe?’

‘Yeah, how’d you know?’

‘Kelly told me.’

In spite of his deadpan, McCabe’s expression must have given something away. ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘Do you know him or something?’

‘Yes. I know him,’ said McCabe. ‘Wolfe’s a good guy.’

Maggie eyed him suspiciously. Her radar was just too good. ‘Okay, he’s a good guy. Is there something else you’re not telling me?’

‘Like what?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe like are you seeing a shrink or something? Maybe like Dr Richard Wolfe, for example?’

Mandy arrived with their burgers. McCabe handed her his empty Virgin Mary glass. Asked for a cold Shipyard Export.

‘No. I’m not seeing a shrink,’ he said after the waitress was gone. He picked up his burger and took a bite.

‘Were you seeing a psychiatrist?’

He didn’t respond.

‘Please don’t give me that Clint Eastwood squint, McCabe. I’m your friend. Remember?’

He still didn’t answer.

‘Oh, never mind.’ She sighed. ‘The only other thing going on is Scott Ginsberg at METCO sent over the surveillance videos from Ten Monument Square for both the twenty-second and twenty-third. Also sent his regards. Eddie spent a chunk of this morning going over the videos with Starbucks.

‘They’re still looking, but so far they haven’t seen anything suspicious,’ she said. ‘Videos are from two cameras. One covers the security desk and elevators. The other’s focused on the main entrance. Nobody came into the building after 6:00 P.M. either day except for the cleaning crew, who arrived all together in a crowd at 6:05 on Thursday and again at 6:08 on Friday. On Friday, Goff left, wearing no coat, at 8:04 and comes back five minutes later holding something in her right hand. Goff leaves again at 9:03, again doesn’t sign out, walks right past the security guard – and he’s right, she did look pissed. She gives him the finger and exits frame. A gray-haired male leaves at 9:12 –’

‘Henry Ogden.’

‘He doesn’t look so happy either, but he shakes the security guard’s hand and hands him a white envelope.’

‘A hundred bucks. It was his Christmas present.’

‘He also doesn’t bother signing out. That’s it for both nights except for the cleaning crew, which left, again together’ – Maggie looked down at her notes – ‘Thursday, or more accurately Friday morning, at exactly 1:00 A.M. and Saturday morning at 1:04.’ She looked up. ‘They’re going over the videos one more time.’

McCabe had finished what he wanted of both his burger and salad, which was about half of each. He sipped at his Shipyard. ‘How about the GO?’ The GO was the unit’s nickname for Chief Shockley, a.k.a. the Great One.

‘Quiet as a mouse. I haven’t heard boo from him.’

McCabe looked doubtful. ‘That’s out of character.’

‘Yeah. It won’t last. Aside from anything else, his bimbo will need something new for her viewers. That pretty much covers it except for our eight-hundred-pound schizophrenic.’

‘What did you tell the boys about her?’

‘Pretty much everything.’

‘You gave them Quinn’s name?’

‘Yeah. I told them not to give it out unless they had to, and not to tell anyone why we’re looking for her.’

‘Okay,’ said McCabe. ‘My turn, I guess.’ He signaled Mandy and ordered coffee for both of them. He spent the next twenty minutes filling Maggie in on his conversations with Janie Archer last night and Henry Ogden and John Kelly this morning.

‘You think Kelly’s the guy?’

‘I don’t know. Possibly. There are a lot of reasons to think so. His familiarity with Old Testament prophets. His house on Harts. A volatile personality. Plus, he’s got weak alibis for both key nights. One from a pair of unreliable and possibly unfindable street punks. The other from a committed longtime partner. Motive is what bothers me. Tough to see why Kelly would want to kill her.’

‘Sex?’

‘Kelly told me he was gay. In a committed relationship.’

‘He could swing both ways,’ said Maggie.

‘Maybe, but I don’t think so.’

‘There’s money. A hundred and eighty K isn’t exactly chicken feed.’

‘I’m not sure he knew about that. Plus, I think he really cared for Lainie, and he couldn’t have cared less about us searching his house on Harts.’

‘Sure. Because he killed her at Markham’s house. Which means we won’t find a thing at his. Anyway, I’ll call Jacobi and get it organized.’

‘Ask Tommy to cover it with him. Tell them to look carefully. If there is something out there, let’s find it.’

Maggie shrugged, nodded, and made the calls. ‘Okay, all set. So you went to Goff’s apartment last night?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How’d you like the pictures?’

McCabe smiled. ‘What can I say? Such a sweet young thing, modest to a fault.’

‘She still remind you of Sandy?’

‘In some ways, yes,’ said McCabe. ‘Others, no.’

Maggie started to ask something about that but then, instead, just shook her head. ‘Never mind. It’s none of my business. Anyway, you said you found the place tossed?’

‘Yeah. My theory is that Ogden, assuming it was Ogden, was in the apartment when I arrived. He either heard me on the porch or saw me approaching through the living-room window. He knew he couldn’t go downstairs without bumping into me. So he went up instead and hid on the stairwell between the second and third floors. I get into the apartment and close the door. He takes off. I heard a sound while I was working the lock. I thought it came from inside. I was wrong. It came from the stairs. I should’ve had him. Basically I screwed up.’

‘Okay, so you’re not perfect. It happens. What was the damage?’

‘Drawers were searched and some of them dumped. Books were pulled out of the bookcase, which means he may have been looking for something that would fit between the pages of a book.’

‘Paper.’

‘Yeah. I doubt Hank’s the love letter type. More likely he was looking for photos or printouts of e-mails.’

‘You’re sure it wasn’t Barker? You said he came waltzing in later. It could have been his second trip.’

‘A bunch of things make me think not. First off, I came down on Barker pretty hard about whether he’d been there before to search the place. It just kind of confused him. He wouldn’t admit to a thing.’

‘Doesn’t mean it’s not him.’ Maggie was busy building little towers of sugar cubes on the table. ‘When you arrived, the door was locked. So were the windows. That means whoever was in there locked up the place. Barker has a key.’

‘If Ogden was her lover, he might have had one, too. And remember, there were no house or office keys attached to the key ring in the Beemer. If the killer took them, I assume it was for a reason.’

Maggie nodded. ‘Okay. You said there were a bunch of reasons you didn’t think Barker was the searcher. What’s the other?’

‘Lainie’s underwear.’

‘Lainie’s underwear?’ She stopped building sugar towers and frowned. ‘What about Lainie’s underwear?’

‘When Barker still thought he was alone, he spotted a pair of Goff’s panties, a black lace thong, lying on top in her open dresser drawer. He seemed surprised by it. Thrilled, in fact. Like a kid at Christmas with a brand-new toy. If he’d already searched the place he’d have seen the thong before, probably stuffed it in his pocket and taken it home.’

‘What’d he do with it?’

McCabe just shrugged.

Maggie made a face as if there were a bad smell in the room. ‘An underwear sniffer?’

McCabe shrugged again and nodded.

‘And you don’t think he’s our freak?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I don’t know, McCabe. Means, opportunity, motive. It all fits. Means? Barker has a key that gets him into her apartment anytime he wants. Opportunity? She’s going away on vacation. Won’t be missed for over two weeks. Motive? That’s easy. The guy’s a creep. A sexual deviant. An underwear sniffer. Yuck.’

Mandy arrived just in time to hear Maggie say ‘underwear sniffer.’ ‘Anybody want more coffee?’ She smiled uncertainly.

‘No thanks, Mandy, just the check,’ said McCabe.

When she was out of earshot, Maggie picked up where she’d left off. ‘Think about it, McCabe. Goff’s a gorgeous woman. Barker lusts after her. Dreams about her. You told me yourself you saw him staring at the pictures. He probably jerks off to visions of Goff leaping around naked in his dirty little brain every night. Of course, what this guy really wants, Lainie won’t give him, and he knows she never will. So he decides to get it and get her. The only way he can.’

Maggie was on a roll, and maybe she was right. Barker was a tempting suspect. Definitely a creep. Still, being a creep didn’t mean being a murderer. Or even being the guy who searched Lainie’s apartment.

‘Let’s say he sneaks into 2F on that Friday night,’ said Maggie. ‘Waits till she gets home from work, overpowers her –’

‘Overpowers her?’ McCabe laughed. ‘C’mon, Mag. Give me a break. The guy’s not just small, he’s the proverbial ninety-pound weakling. Goff could have kicked the shit out of him. Hell, my daughter could have kicked the shit out of him.’

That stopped her, but only for a second. ‘Yeah. Okay. Maybe. But what if he had a gun or a knife? The knife. Or if he slipped her a roofie?’

‘You mean when they were sitting down to share a cocktail?’

Maggie glared at him. ‘Don’t be a wiseass.’

‘Alright, sorry, but then what? After she’s unconscious he drags her out of the apartment, puts her in her own car, and takes the ferry to Harts Island? Why? So he can kill her where there’s a nice view of the ocean? Then, to top things off, he steals her apartment keys when he already has a set? Admit it, Detective Margaret. That dog don’t hunt.’

‘Alright, alright.’ She held up her hands reluctantly. ‘You’re right. I still think the guy’s a creep –’

‘He’s definitely a creep.’

‘A creep who knows something he’s not telling us. Like what he was doing sneaking into Goff’s apartment with a flashlight and a tool belt around his middle at four in the morning. I think we need answers.’

McCabe nodded. They did need to find out what Barker was doing in the apartment, and what it had to do with Goff’s murder. ‘Okay. Bring him in, but I’m not sure how much you’ll get from him. The minute I got too tough last night he started reciting me his own Miranda rights.’

‘C’mon, McCabe.’ She smiled. ‘You’re not Brian Cleary. You know tough’s not the answer to everything.’

‘Alright, Mag, work your wiles. Find out what he was doing there. But I still don’t see Barker as the searcher.’