When she was gone, McCabe asked, ‘So what is the connection? A testing lab?’
‘Nope. The Red Cross.’
McCabe considered that for a second. ‘Blood drive?’
‘Yes. Wendy Branca, Brian Henry, Katie Dubois, and Lucinda Cassidy all gave blood within the last year.’
‘So somebody hacked into the Red Cross computer?’
‘No. Here’s where it gets interesting. For the past eighteen months, wouldn’t you know, a certain doctor’s wife has been volunteering at the Red Cross three days a week.’
‘Well, do tell. With full access to the records?’
‘According to my source, yes.’
McCabe stirred the warm whiskey with his index finger and then sucked it off. Pieces were falling into place. Pieces he hadn’t expected.
Maggie continued. ‘The way I see it, McCabe, we always thought one of the Spencers was involved. Why should we be surprised if both of them are?’
The nachos arrived, cheese dripping off. Maggie positioned a jalape?o in the middle of one and managed to lower it neatly it into her mouth.
‘Interesting. Just when I was beginning to have doubts.’
Maggie stopped munching. ‘Doubts about what?’
‘Doubts about Dr. Phil. About his involvement. At least in the murders. Maybe now in the surgery as well.’
‘McCabe, if it’s not uncool to remind you, yesterday you had no doubts.’
‘Today I have doubts.’ He sipped the Scotch.
‘So what’s changed?’ She took another nacho and offered him the plate. He shook his head.
‘For one thing,’ he said, ‘Sophie seems pretty damned sure he’s not the recruiter.’
‘Okay. He could still be the surgeon. He could still have cut out Katie’s heart.’
‘Yes, he could, but whoever the recruiter was, he told Sophie his name was Philip Spencer. If Spencer was involved, why would the recruiter do that?’
‘I don’t know.’ Maggie shrugged. ‘To frame Spencer in case the shit hit the fan?’
‘Framing Spencer only makes sense if Spencer had nothing to do with any of it,’ said McCabe. ‘If Spencer was one of the surgeons and he found out “Harry Lime” was framing him, he’d talk. Anybody would.’
‘Which means framing Spencer only makes sense if he knows nothing, if he’s innocent.’
‘Right – and there’s more. We just had Spencer in for an interview at Middle Street.’
‘And?’
McCabe signaled Mandy and ordered another Glenfiddich. Maggie settled for a seltzer. ‘He didn’t behave like he was guilty. He was too relaxed. I mean, whoever killed Katie and the others knows we have a witness. He ought to be worried about it. Hell, we know he’s worried about it. He’s already tried to kill her twice and failed both times. His hit man is dead.’
Maggie pulled out another cheesy nacho. McCabe waited until it was safely in her mouth, then said, ‘Spencer wasn’t worried. I don’t think he had a clue.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yeah. Jacobi’s guys found blood in the back of the Lexus – and Katie Dubois’s earring.’
Maggie’s eyebrows went up. ‘Incriminating evidence, don’t you think?’
‘It ought to be, but Spencer didn’t recognize or react to the earring when Tom showed it to him. On top of that, I had Tasco ask him about Paul Oliver Duggan and Carol Reed. He never heard of them.’
‘Who’s Carol Reed?’ asked Maggie.
‘The director of The Third Man. The male director. Any real movie buff, anyone using the alias Harry Lime, ought to at least know the name. Spencer didn’t. I’m sure of it. Anyway, we’ll know for sure in forty-eight hours. We gave him a glass of water and got a saliva sample. The lab’s doing a DNA match with the blood on Cassidy’s dog’s teeth. That’ll prove it one way or the other.’
‘Okay, let’s suppose Spencer isn’t the murderer. So how did the blood and the earring end up in the back of the car?’
‘Maybe you just gave us the answer to that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Hattie.’
‘Hattie Spencer?’
‘You know any other Hatties?’
‘C’mon, McCabe, maybe Hattie Spencer dug up Katie’s blood type, but she didn’t rape her or kill her. Or dump her body.’
‘No, she didn’t – but she probably passed on the information about the blood types to somebody who did.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know who, but she did tell me she lent the Lexus to a friend last Wednesday through Friday while she was up in Blue Hill. At the time, I thought she was covering for her husband. Now I think she may have been telling the truth.’
McCabe picked up a nacho. The jalape?o slipped off the top and landed on his shirt. ‘Shit.’ He picked it off and ate it, but it left a greasy ring behind.
Maggie dipped her napkin in the seltzer, went around the table, and dabbed at the spot on his shirt. He watched her, a grumpy expression on his face. She looked up and smiled. ‘Y’know, you’re really very cute when you get all pouty.’ She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips. ‘Too bad you’re taken.’