“Very true. But the scenario you’ve fabricated is entirely speculative.”
“Enjoy malacology, Dr. Marshall?” Marshall knew about the eyelash, but we weren’t certain if he knew about the shells. We’d decided I would bring them up in order to gauge his reaction.
Marshall ignored the question.
“Your collection missing a few specimens? Viviparus intertextus maybe?”
“Hardly relevant,” Tuckerman said.
“The Viviparus intertextus shell found with Willie Helms was identical to a shell found in your office desk. Willie Helms was buried on a beach on Dewees. Viviparus intertextus is a freshwater species.”
“Ask yourself, Dr. Brennan, why in the world would I carry shells on my person while disposing of a body? Surely you see that that is pure stage management.”
“You’re suggesting someone planted the shells on Helms’s body and in your desk to throw suspicion on you?”
“I am. Originally, not to throw suspicion on me. Just to introduce a spurious factor so that if the body was discovered there would be evidence it came from some other area. But after your visit to the clinic, the killer decided to point the finger toward me by planting a shell in my desk. I never took shells to the clinic.”
“And who would this killer be?”
“Corey Daniels.”
“Where did Daniels get them?”
Marshall snorted derisively. “He could have gathered them from any swamp. Think about it. If you want to throw suspicion on a true collector, why choose a species that’s as abundant in this general area as a common housefly? Anyone with half a brain would have chosen a much more exotic form. This is typical of Daniels. The man is a dullard.”
“I discovered an eyelash inside that shell. Black. Willie Helms was blond. Enjoy the mouth swab, Dr. Marshall? That lash should yield some interesting DNA.”
Marshall let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling, a teacher displeased with an ill-prepared student. “Even if the lash is mine, I worked with Daniels every day. He had easy access. Body hairs are shed routinely.”
I did not reply.
“Let me ask you this.” Marshall’s eyes came back to me. “Was evidence found with any of these other victims?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss that.” I knew the DA had not shared that finding with Marshall and his lawyer. No way I’d provide the defense with a statement of what we didn’t know.
“The answer is no. Otherwise I would be charged with those crimes. Think about the flaw in your reasoning.” Marshall’s tone was pure disdain. “I am sufficiently vigilant to leave not a single clue with any other victim, yet I drop a shell and an eyelash with Willie Helms? Then I leave another shell in my desk?”
The question seemed rhetorical, so I didn’t answer.
“Are you so blinded by hatred of me that you cannot consider the possibility that I am being framed?” Marshall spread his fingers.
“By Corey Daniels.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “A nurse wouldn’t have the skills to extract live organs, and to do it under your nose without your knowledge.”
“Extraction is not that difficult, particularly if you’re not concerned about the welfare of the donor. Check Daniels out. He’s got a record.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re claiming Corey Daniels was killing your patients and selling organs to your former classmate?”
“What I’m claiming is that I’m being framed.” The vein in Marshall’s temple was pumping a geiser.
“Why did you dump your boat?” Ryan asked.
Tuckerman’s hand shot up. I could see nicotine stains on his fingers.
Marshall cut Tuckerman off before he could object to Ryan’s participation in the interview.
“That sale had been in the works for months. A sport fisherman named Alexander Mann made me an offer last fall, then his loan fell through. It took him until now to arrange financing.”
Ryan said nothing. It was a technique I’d seen him employ many times. When faced with silence, most suspects feel compelled to resume talking. Marshall did that now.
“You can verify my account by speaking with the man.”
Ryan and I gave Marshall more silence.
“Pen and paper,” Marshall demanded of Tuckerman.
“Lester—”
Marshall flicked an impatient hand.
Tuckerman took a ballpoint and a yellow legal pad from his briefcase. Marshall wrote calmly, then tore off a sheet and handed it to me.
“That’s Mann’s bank. Call them.”
Wordlessly, I folded the paper and placed it in my purse. “Your pilot should tell an interesting tale.”
Marshall looked momentarily flustered. “Pilot?”
I kept my eyes steady on Marshall.
“What pilot?”
“I didn’t come to trip you up, Dr. Marshall.” That was exactly the reason I’d made reference to the pilot. Gullet had yet to track down a plane or any information on the means by which organs were smuggled to Mexico. “I came to hear you out.”
“What you’re saying is absurd.” Marshall wet his lips. “I have no pilot.”
Marshall closed his eyes. When he opened them something cold and hard had come into his gaze. He fixed it on me.
“The situation is simple. Daniels has framed me. Thanks to you, Gullet and his moronic DA have fallen into the trap of believing ridiculously circumstantial evidence. I am not amused. These false accusations are ruining my good name.”
“Is that what this is, Doctor? Name calling? Sticks and stones?”
“I break no bones. I am a healer.”
I shook my head, too disgusted to answer.
Marshall retwined his fingers.
“I know you loathe me for many things. I have failed to uphold my Hippocratic oath. Years ago I abused drugs. All that has changed.”
Marshall clasped his fingers so tightly the flesh blanched.
“I accepted my present position with GMC to compensate for the waste I have made of my talents and my life. I served time in prison. Undoubtedly you have discovered that. During those years of confinement, I met people whose existence I could never have imagined. I saw violence. I saw despair. I vowed upon my release to place my medical skills at the service of the disadvantaged.”
I heard shifting in the chair beside me. No way Ryan was buying it.
“I know I appear guilty. And I am guilty of many things. But not this. Despite my past failings, I am and have always been a healer. I did not kill these people.”
Raising the clasped fists to his chin, Marshall breathed deeply. “But perhaps I misjudge my tormenter.”
Marshall let out the breath.
“If not Daniels, someone else is setting me up.”
* * *
“Good one on the pilot,” Ryan said as we were leaving the detention center.
“I thought Marshall might let something slip.”
“He’s cunning as a fox.”
“He is that. So why did he want to talk to me?”
“You’re cuter than Gullet, and the DA probably told him to kiss off.”
“Think there could be anything to it?”
“Yeah, right. And hot pants were a high point in fashion.”
“I had hot pants,” I said.
Ryan did a Groucho brow flash. “Seeing that might have altered my opinion of the seventies.”
“If Marshall’s on the level, you were right about Daniels doing time.”
“Whaddya know.”
It was a short drive to the sheriff’s department. Exiting the Jeep, I noticed Adele Berry thundering down the front walk. Past her I could see Gullet’s dog sleeping under a row of boxwoods bordering the building.
Berry’s updo was wilted, her black skin glistened, and her red polyester blouse was mottled with sweat. Though it was close, the retriever took best in show.
Berry hesitated. I thought she’d circle to avoid us, but instead s
he bore down like a swimmer firing off the block.
“Why you doing this?” The fleshy face was welded into a mask of anger. “Why you trying to ruin a good man?”
“Dr. Marshall murdered innocent people,” I said.
“That’s crazy talk.”
“The evidence is overwhelming.”
Berry ran a palm across her forehead and wiped it on her skirt. “I got blood pressure could launch a missile. My job’s gone, but my bills sure as hell gonna keep on comin’. Anyone getting killed, it’s you and the police killing me.” She pronounced it “poe-lice.”
“How long did you work at the GMC clinic?”
Berry shot a hip and planted an enormous hand on it. “You’ve got no right to ask me nothin’.”
“No, I don’t. But I find it curious you wouldn’t want to share anything that could help the investigation.”
Again Berry palmed away perspiration. “Five months. So why bust my ass? And Daniels. They’re grillin’ that man like a cheese sandwich.”
“Daniels may have seen or heard something.”
“They’re learning nothin’.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means there’s nothin’ to learn.”
With a last parting glare, Berry strode toward the parking lot.
“I still think she dislikes us,” Ryan said, holding wide the glass door.
Daniels was cooling his heels in an interrogation room. Gullet was watching him through two-way glass.
I described our meeting with Marshall. Gullet listened, hands in his pockets. Ryan studied Daniels.
“Think there could be anything to Marshall’s claim he’s been set up?” I asked.
Gullet turned back to the glass. “Not by this guy. He’s dumb as a bag of hammers.”
“What’s his story?”
“Born in seventy-two, no juvie record. Enrolled in College of Charleston in ninety, premed major. Story goes there was some great-great-grand-something picking up the tab. Daniels took up with a woman who didn’t make grade, the Golden Goose cut the eggs, Daniels buggered off to Texas. He did nursing school in El Paso while the girlfriend worked and picked up the bills.”
“Why Texas?”
“Girlfriend’s home turf. Daniels got his RN in ninety-four, started working at the same hospital he did his training.”
“Where’s that?”
“Some branch of UT. I can check.”
“How did he end up back here?”
“Relationship went south, lot of domestic calls by the neighbors, girlfriend eventually threw him out, got a restraining order, he violated, whole thing came down to a brawl, she’s down the stairs with a broken collarbone. Daniels got tagged for six, did three. Dropped out of sight for a while, busted up a hand, slunk back to Charleston in 2000 for R and R. Started at the clinic in 2001. Guy’s no braintrust.”
“Or he could be one hell of a con,” Ryan said.
“Sir?” Gullet’s tone was pure cynicism.
“Never rule out the improbable.”
“Trust me. There’s no Phi Beta Kappa key in this guy’s drawer.”
“Daniels earned an RN,” I said. “He can’t be that stupid.”
Gullet blew air through his nostrils. “Lord save me from conspiracy theories. Marshall is dirty and looking for a fall guy.”
“What’s Daniels’s take on Marshall?”
“Let’s just say he’s not eager to talk about the boss.”
“Why are you still holding him?” Ryan asked.
“Lousy attitude. Providing quiet time for the boy to ponder respect for the law.”
We watched Daniels probe a molar with a thumbnail. I was surprised when Ryan asked permission to question him.
“Now why would I let you do that, Detective?” Gullet’s tone was almost amused.
“I think I’ve spotted a basis for rapport,” Ryan said.
Gullet shrugged, hands still pocketed. “Use the recorder.”
35
GULLET AND I WATCHED RYAN ENTER THE interrogation room. Daniels looked up, then stretched out his legs and slouched, one arm on the table, one draping the chair back.
“Remember me, Corey?” Ryan asked.
“Detective Do-right.”
“Close enough.”
“I need a cigarette.”
“Tough,” Ryan said.
Daniels looked momentarily surprised, went back to bored.
Rapport? I thought.
“Do you object to having this interview taped?” Ryan asked.
“Would it matter if I did?”
“It’s for your protection and mine.”
Ryan turned on the machine, tested, spoke his name, the name of the witness, the time, and the date.
“Your boss is in a lot of trouble,” Ryan began.
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“What were your duties at the GMC clinic?”
“I’m a nurse.”
“What did you do, exactly?”
“Nurse people.”
“Easy enough to find out.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
“I’m getting the impression there’s a lack of enthusiasm for this conversation, Corey.”
“What? I should say I like getting busted by the heat?”
“Some of that heat could be turned onto you.”
“You’ll never make a case for me offing those people.”
“Who says anyone wants to do that?”
“Marshall’s not trying to put this on me?”
“Actually, he is.”
“I been hassled before. I can deal.” Daniels shot a hand through his hair. “I really need a smoke.”
“Why nursing?”
“What?”
“You’re what? Six-five, two-eighty? Tough guy like you. Why nursing?”
“Good money. High demand.”
“Write your own ticket.”
“Yeah.”
Ryan indicated Daniels’s tattoos.
“Where’d you do your stretch?”
“Huntsville.”
“What was the bump?”
Daniels snorted. “Bitch claimed I smacked her around, coonass judge bought the whole crock.” Daniels made a finger pistol of his right hand and shot it at Ryan. “Don’t mess with Texas.”
I glanced at Daniels’s tattoos. Skulls, a skewered heart, spiders in a web, entwined snakes crawling the forearm. Classy. I was beginning to wonder when the rapport would kick in when Ryan thumb-jabbed Daniels’s belt buckle.
“I see you’re a Harley guy.”
“So?”
“I had a ninety-five Ultra Classic Electra Glide. Loved that bike more than my own mother.”
For the first time Daniels looked directly at Ryan. “You shitting me?”
“Man lies about some things. His height. His dick. Never his bike.”
Daniels slapped a hand to his chest. “Two thousand and four Screamin’ Eagle Fat Boy.”
“A softail man.”
“Touring bikes are for wimps,” Daniels scoffed.
“No feeling in the world like flying with the wind in your face.”
“You got that right.”
“Ever been gunning along, suddenly you’re eating cement?” Ryan asked, grinning.
“No shit.” Smiling broadly, Daniels placed both arms on the table, palms up. One wrist was circled by a crescent-shaped scar. “A nun.” Daniels shook his head in disbelief. “Clipped by a nun in a Hyundai. Next thing I know I’m in an ER and she’s setting up a hotline to God. Hospital scene was worse than the fucking wipeout.”
“When I got nuked the prick never stopped.”
“This nun still follows up, feels guilty as hell. I tell her forget it. Price of the ride, man, price of the ride.”
“Permanent damage?”
“Pussy left hook, but who needs it? My right’s the annihilator.” Another incredulous head shake. “A nun.”
Ryan nodded understanding, fellow bikers baffled by the foibles
of fate. Daniels was the first to speak.
“Look, man, I’m sorry those people got greased. But I had nothing to do with it.”
“We’re not trying to get in your face, Corey. This is information gathering. We just need to know if you ever noticed Marshall do or say anything weird.”
“It’s like I told that Nazi sheriff. Marshall was a psycho about two things. Keeping the place clean, and keeping out of his office.”
“What was the purpose of the large room upstairs?”
Daniels shrugged. “Beats me. Never saw anyone in it but the cleaning guy.”
“You never found that odd?”
“Look. I came in, I did my job, I left.”
“Notice anything off about Marshall?”
“We’ve been over and over this shit. I wouldn’t want to get naked with the guy, but Marshall was an OK boss, all right?”
“How about Helene Flynn?”
Daniels slouched back again. “Shit, I don’t know. She was like this nun I’m talking about. Classy. Real nice to the patients. I tried feeling her out, you know, dropped a few lines, chick shut me down cold. I don’t need to go begging for it, you know what I mean?”
“Did Helene get along with Marshall?”
Daniels’s finger was working the tabletop, making a soft squeaking noise.
“Corey?”
Daniels shrugged. “I dunno. At first, yeah. Later, she seemed jumpy when the doc was around. I figured maybe he was hitting on her, too.”
“Do you know why she left?”
“Marshall said she quit, hired Berry.” Daniels was still fingertipping the table. “Don’t ask, don’t tell. That’s my motto.”
“Did Marshall ever work late?”
“Sometimes he let Berry and me leave early.”
A second passed. Daniels’s finger froze.
“Fuckin’ A, man. I see what you’re saying.” Daniels overnodded as he spoke. “Something’s wrong there. The guy’s a doctor. Locking up was Berry’s job.”
* * *
From the sheriff’s department, we went to the hospital. Pete was in a private room on the med-surge floor. Ryan waited in the lobby while I went up.