‘The Porsche in the driveway?’
‘Yes. That’s Philip’s toy.’
‘The Lexus in the garage?’
‘That’s mine.’
‘How about the third one?’
‘Philip has a BMW he drives when he’s not fooling around in the Porsche. Once again, why do you want to know?’
‘Does Dr. Spencer ever borrow your Lexus?’
‘Occasionally, when he needs to haul something or other.’
Like the remains of dead teenage girls or kidnapped joggers, McCabe thought. ‘He takes the BMW to work?’
‘Only when he has an appointment away from the hospital. Or if it’s raining. Otherwise he walks.’
‘Do you recall if he used your Lexus last Thursday or Friday?’
‘I don’t know. He may have. No. Actually I lent it to a friend. I was away. From Wednesday morning to Friday. Visiting my mother in Blue Hill. She’s quite ill, and I try to get up there as often as possible. I took Philip’s BMW. I prefer it to the SUV on long trips.’
McCabe’s mind went back to the photograph on Spencer’s wall, and finally he knew what bothered him about it. ‘Do you know a man named Lucas Kane?’ he asked.
She looked at him oddly. ‘How on earth do you know that name?’
‘Your husband mentioned it.’
‘Lucas Kane was someone I knew a long time ago. When I was growing up. His parents had a summer place not far from ours.’
‘In Blue Hill?’
‘Near there.’
‘Did you know him well?’
‘No. Mostly our parents were friends. I lost track of Lucas after we both started prep school. Then, eight years later, he turned up in Philip’s class at medical school. I introduced them, and they became good friends. They did their surgical residencies together in New York.’
‘Kane was a surgeon?’
Harriet Spencer examined McCabe’s face before answering. ‘No. Lucas never practiced. He lost his license.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll have to find that out on your own. But you’re a detective, aren’t you? It shouldn’t be hard.’
‘Did you consider Kane a friend?’
‘A friend?’ McCabe saw the hint of a smile flicker across her face. ‘No, I never would have called Lucas that.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘I haven’t seen Lucas Kane in more than fifteen years.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Dead. Murdered. In Florida. I believe that’s where he lived.’
Florida again. ‘Did you go to the funeral?’
‘No. Philip went. I had no interest.’
‘Can you tell me why?’
‘I don’t think it’s any of your business.’
‘What friend?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You said you lent the Lexus to a friend. Last week. What friend?’
‘Alright, either you tell me why you’re asking these questions or this conversation stops here and now, and you can just pick yourself up and leave my house.’
‘Mrs. Spencer, have you ever heard the name Harry Lime?’
‘No.’
McCabe paused, visualizing the Denali picture. Philip Spencer and Lucas Kane. What was it? Admiration? Affection? No. More than that. In the end, the question asked itself. ‘Mrs. Spencer, were your husband and Lucas Kane lovers?’
‘That’s it, Detective. It’s time for you to go. I don’t like being questioned like a common criminal. If you have any further questions, you can ask them through my attorney.’
‘Were they? Lovers, I mean?’
‘Get out.’ Harriet Spencer stood, walked to the kitchen door, and opened it. ‘Get out now,’ she said, ‘and don’t come back.’
McCabe went to the door and left. Descending the two steps, he looked across to the garage and thought about sneaking in. He wanted a closer look at the Lexus. He knew it was a stupid idea. He didn’t have a warrant, and Harriet Spencer certainly wouldn’t give him permission to conduct a search. If he was seen, anything he found would be compromised as evidence.
Could he get a warrant? Maybe. The Lexus matched the vehicle in Starbucks’s surveillance video. Philip Spencer was the right height and had the necessary skills to ‘harvest’ Katie Dubois’s heart. Harriet Spencer was away from Wednesday until Friday. The Lexus was here. She lent it to a friend, she said. Also, Philip Spencer’s whereabouts during the critical hours were unknown.
Where were you around midnight last Thursday night?
At home. In bed.
Your wife was with you?
Yes. We usually share a bed.
A demonstrable lie. A heart surgeon, young enough and tall enough, alone with a Lexus. Was that enough? Probably not. Tasco and Fraser had barely started checking on the list of other surgeons with Lexuses. Let alone those whose wives had Lexuses. There might be dozens young enough and tall enough who had no alibi during the critical hours. Even so, he wanted the crime scene techs to examine the Spencers’ vehicle for trace evidence of Katie. Or Lucinda. Or both. Plus he wanted to examine the house as well. He just had a feeling about this man.
16
Sunday. 7:00 P.M.