‘Yeah. I know, I’d prefer that, too, Andy. Then we could talk privately on the way in. But we’ve gotta follow department protocol. You know what I mean?’ She stood and tapped her left hand twice on the unit’s front door, letting Castleman know it was time to leave. The rear window rolled up. The car pulled out onto Brackett. Maggie could see Barker turn and look back, watching her through the misted glass. She smiled, raised a hand, and gave a small wave. Like a mother sending her kid off to school.
She waited until the unit turned left on Pine Street and disappeared, then stepped over a pile of dirty snow that was starting to melt in the warmer air. She opened the door of her unmarked Crown Vic, pulled off her coat, tossed it on the passenger seat, and headed for 109.
Barker knew something he wasn’t telling them. Maggie was as sure of that as she was of anything. Something that explained why he snuck into Goff’s apartment at four in the morning wearing a tool belt. The trick would be getting it out of him. In spite of what she’d told McCabe, she had to play this one carefully. It wouldn’t be all that easy.
Maggie parked herself in Fortier’s office and watched Barker fidget on the TV set in the corner. He was nervous, looking this way and that. He’d been there ten minutes and was starting to get antsy. Time to get the show on the road. She nodded to Brian Cleary, who was standing next to her. Ten seconds later she watched the door to the interview room open. Cleary walked in.
‘Hey, Mr Barker, how are you? Detective Cleary here.’ Cleary disappeared from view as he sat down in the interviewer’s chair. The camera stayed focused on Barker’s face.
‘Where’s Margaret?’
‘Who?’
‘Margaret.’
‘Oh. Detective Savage, you mean.’
‘She asked me to call her Margaret.’
‘Yeah. Well. She’s my boss, so I gotta call her Detective Savage. Anyway, she’s stuck in a meeting for a few minutes. Said to tell you she’ll be with you as soon as she can. Shouldn’t be very long. Asked me to cover a few of the preliminaries so we don’t take any more of your time than we have to. Hey. Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee? Or water or anything?’
‘I’ll have a glass of water.’
‘Okay. Sure thing.’ Cleary’s shoulder came into frame as he got up. A minute later Maggie could see his hand place a full glass of water in front of Barker. If he drank any he’d leave a DNA sample on the rim.
She could see Cleary’s hands on the table opening a manila file folder. ‘Okay,’ he asked. ‘Now, your full name is what?’
‘Andrew Barker.’
‘Any middle name or anything?’
‘John.’
‘Good. And you live in Apartment 1F at 342 Brackett Street here in Portland, right?’
‘I own the building.’
‘Oh yeah? Good for you. How long have you lived there?’
‘All my life. I was born there.’
‘Really? Right there in the apartment?’
‘No,’ Barker said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice. ‘I was born at Cumberland Medical Center. My parents lived in the apartment at the time.’
‘Your folks still live there?’
‘Is Margaret coming soon?’
‘Yeah. Just a few minutes. She said she’s anxious to talk to you, so I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she can. Your folks still live there? In the apartment, I mean?’
‘No. My parents divorced when I was little. Mimsy died about five years ago.’
‘Mimsy?’
‘My mother.’
‘Mimsy was her name?’
‘No. Her name was Gloria. Mimsy’s what I called her.’
‘Oh yeah? Sort of like Mom or Mommy or something like that?’
Barker squinted at Cleary. ‘It wasn’t like that. Mimsy’s what everybody called her.’ He started looking around the room. Everywhere but at Cleary. ‘Where’s Margaret? I thought she wanted to talk to me. I can’t wait here all night, y’know.’ The tone was petulant. Maggie figured it was time to make an entrance. Wait any longer and Barker’s irritation would turn into anger and they’d probably lose him altogether.
‘Mr Barker,’ she said, walking into the interview room, ‘I’m sorry we had to keep you waiting.’ Then, to Cleary, ‘Brian, I can take over from here.’ When Cleary didn’t move she added, ‘Would you mind?’
‘Hey, I’ll be happy to stay, Marg … uh, Detective Savage,’ said Cleary.
‘Not necessary,’ Maggie said. Walking behind Barker’s chair, she stood behind him, facing Cleary. ‘I’d rather speak to Mr Barker privately.’
Cleary held up his two hands, palms out, a signal of surrender. ‘Okay, you’re the boss,’ he said. ‘Call me if you need me.’
Maggie continued around the table in time to see a nearly imperceptible smile flicker across Barker’s face as he watched Cleary collect his notes and walk out of the room. The carefully orchestrated dance was over.
‘Asshole,’ Barker muttered.
‘Oh, don’t mind him,’ said Maggie. ‘He’s just trying to do his job. We all are.’
‘You’re different.’
‘Thank you, Andy. I appreciate that.’ She sat in the chair Cleary had just vacated.
He looked at her.
‘I’d like to start by asking you some questions about your building and about Elaine Goff. And also about your other tenants. Would that be alright?’
‘Okay. Yes. Sure. That would be fine.’
Maggie opened a small notebook and for about ten minutes took him through a series of general questions about the building, about his job as landlord. After that they went back and forth for a few more minutes about the other tenants in the building. Who they were. Where they worked. How long they’d lived at 342.
As they spoke Maggie could see Barker’s eyes darting back and forth, going from her face when she was looking at him to her breasts when he thought she wasn’t. Every time she looked down to write something in her notebook, boom, down they’d go. It was almost funny. The little creep would probably start salivating in a minute. Or jerking off. She considered buttoning her jacket and cutting off his view. Then she changed her mind and, instead, hoisted her long legs up on the table and leaned back in the chair and let the jacket fall open. Barker’s lascivious looks weren’t anything she couldn’t handle, and the longer he thought he could sneak a peek, the longer he’d want to stay and answer questions. Maybe more important, the more excited he got, the more likely it was that he’d slip up and tell her something he didn’t mean to.
I didn’t mean to confess to the crime, Your Honor. I was distracted by the detective’s boobs.
‘How long has Goff lived in the apartment?’ Maggie asked.
‘A little over three years. She signed a lease for a fourth year back in November. She was a good tenant. Quiet. Clean. The place was always picked up. She always paid her rent on the first of the month.’
The place was always picked up? Interesting. How would Barker know that? ‘Was she friendly with any of the other tenants?’
‘Not really. Not that I know of. I saw her talking with the Chus occasionally.’
‘The Chus?’
‘Nancy and Tom Chu. The people on the third floor rear. She was pretty friendly with them, especially Nancy.’
‘Interests in common?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Barker. Maggie’s pen went back to her pad; Barker’s eyes went back to her breasts. ‘Nancy’s into photography. They talked about that a lot.’ Maggie looked up. So did Barker. He gave her his best smile.
‘Would you excuse me, Andy?’
He looked up questioningly.
‘Just be a second,’ she said. ‘I have to go to the little girls’ room,’ she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
She left the room and found Cleary and Tasco. ‘Did you guys talk to the Chus last night? Apartment 3R?’
‘No. They didn’t answer the door.’
‘Okay. Find Nancy Chu. Bring her in. Tell her it’s important.’
She went back to the interview room. ‘There, that’s better.’ She smiled. ‘So, tell me about Goff,’ she said. ‘What kind of woman was Lainie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What did you think of her?’
‘I liked her.’
‘Yeah, but what’d you think of her? I mean, did you ever talk to her?’
‘Yeah, sometimes I talked to her.’
‘What about?’
Barker shrugged. ‘Stuff.’
‘Stuff in her apartment?’
‘I didn’t go into her apartment.’
‘Well, you must have gone in there occasionally to fix things. Y’know? That kind of stuff?’
‘Yes. Occasionally.’
‘Did you go in there a lot?’
‘I said occasionally.’
‘Was Goff there when you went in?’
‘If something needed fixing, she usually told me to take care of it while she was at work. She always knew about it, though.’
‘But you did go in there?’
‘Yes. I already told you that.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’d you think of the pictures? The photographs. On the bedroom wall.’
‘They were …’ Barker paused as if he were searching for the right word to use. ‘They were … beautiful.’
‘Yeah, they were, weren’t they? Really beautiful. I thought so, too.’ Maggie smiled warmly at him.
Barker seemed to relax.
‘Did you ever talk to Lainie about the pictures?’
‘No.’ Now he looked puzzled.
‘Never discussed them with her at all?’
‘No. That would have been …’ Again Barker searched for the right word. ‘Rude. That’s what it would have been. Rude. Them being pictures of her and all.’
‘Really? Those were pictures of Goff? You’re sure? I mean, you can’t see her face or anything.’
Barker smiled. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Did Goff tell you she posed for the pictures?’
‘Let’s just say I’m sure.’
‘That is so cool.’ Maggie paused as if she were debating something. ‘You know, Andy, I’ll let you in on a little secret.’
‘What?’
She leaned forward and spoke in a near whisper. ‘I sometimes think … now, you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone.’
‘What?’
‘Nah, I probably shouldn’t be telling you personal stuff like this.’
‘No, c’mon, what?’
‘Well.’ Maggie looked left and right as if she were checking that there was no one else in the room. ‘I sometimes think I’d like to get some pictures shot of me like that. Don’t you think that’d be cool?’
Barker stared at her.
‘Too bad you never asked Lainie who the photographer was.’
‘I … I … know who it was.’
‘Really? Who?’ she asked.
‘Nancy Chu.’
‘Nancy Chu from 3R?’
‘Yup.’
‘Gee, she’s good. Do you think she’d do me?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Barker said, leaning in even closer. ‘In fact, I could probably arrange it.’ The little creep was positively radiating sexual tension.
‘Gee, that’d be great.’ Maggie leaned back again, letting the jacket fall open. ‘Just a few more things to cover, Andy, and then we can let you go home. Did you ever see anybody who didn’t live in the building going into or out of Lainie’s apartment?’
‘You mean like boyfriends?’
‘Yeah. Or other women.’
‘She sometimes had a friend of hers from New York staying with her. Janie something or other.’
‘How about guys?’
‘There were some. Sure. I keep a pretty good eye on the place, and I noticed them.’
‘Do you know any of their names?’
Barker thought about that. ‘No, I really don’t. Again, it didn’t seem like any of my business.’
‘Okay. Well, thank you, Andy.’ Maggie stood up and held out her hand. Barker shook it. ‘That’s really all we need. You’ve been a big help.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Pause. ‘Maggie.’
‘Do you need a ride home? I can have an officer give you a ride.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll just catch a cab.’
Maggie watched him go. She waited until the elevator doors closed in front of him before turning and going into interview room number two, where an Asian woman was sitting at the table waiting for her.
Twenty-Four
At ten thirty on a Saturday night, the fourth floor at 109 was quiet, overhead lights dimmed to semidarkness, a feeling of loneliness about the place. McCabe came back to the office after leaving Wolfe’s because he needed somewhere to go that wasn’t his empty apartment. Here, at least, there was work to be done. A small lamp on Maggie’s desk was lit. That and the glow from her computer screen threw twin circles of cold light across her face. She was hunched over, fingers dancing across the keyboard. He pulled up a chair and watched.
‘Hi,’ he said after a minute.
‘Hold on a sec,’ she said, not looking up. ‘Just want to finish this. Okay. There.’ She looked up. ‘Hi.’
‘Where is everybody?’
‘Tasco’s still out on Harts with Jacobi and the ETs. I told everyone else to go home to their wives, girlfriends, and kiddies. Get a good night’s sleep. Start fresh in the morning.’
‘How about you? Aren’t you tired, too?’
‘Me? Haven’t you heard? I’m Superwoman. Besides, I don’t have a wife to go home to.’ She leaned back. ‘Sometimes I think,’ she said, stretching and yawning, ‘that that’s what I really need. A wife.’
‘And kiddies?’
‘Maybe someday. What brings you back to Happy Valley?’
‘Work, I guess. Plus, at the moment, I don’t have anyone to go home to either. Casey’s at Sunday River with a friend. Kyra’s decided to wait out the murder at her own place.’
‘How come?’
‘Apparently I’m not much fun to be around when there’s a killer on the loose.’
Maggie smiled. ‘She may have something there. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I was going to call you. Found out some stuff you’ll need to know, and I didn’t want to interrupt you at Wolfe’s.’
‘Okay. You want some coffee first?’ he asked. ‘I can put on a fresh pot.’
‘Nah, I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll make you some anyway. That way you won’t be stealing most of mine.’
He walked down to the small kitchen alcove at the end of the hall just across from the conference room. Maggie followed and watched as he poured out the dregs of the old pot made hours ago and now as thick as sludge. He tossed the grounds and washed out the pot. Then he poured in cold water and measured out coffee into a fresh filter. He could feel her presence behind him, leaning against the wall.
‘Never thought of you as being domestic,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, ‘a real homeboy.’ He flipped the switch on the Mr Coffee. The machine started making gurgling noises. He turned. She stood in the shadows watching him, her long body nearly as tall as his own, less than two feet away. He caught her scent. Eau de cop? No. Something sexier. A lot sexier.