MARSHALL WAS BEING HELD AT THE DETENTION CENTER ON Leeds Avenue in North Charleston. Ryan and I went to see him the next morning. We'd discussed the pros and cons before falling asleep. Ryan was con. I was pro. Gullet and the DA took my side, saying there was nothing to lose.

To be honest, I was curious. Marshall's ego was the size of a planet. Why would he lower himself to call me? Did he want to make a deal? Pointless. Plea bargaining was a matter for the DA.

In addition to curiosity, I had another purpose. I'd seen Ryan interrogate suspects. Given Marshall's arrogance, I felt there was a chance the creep might incriminate himself.

At the detention center, Ryan and I passed through security and were led to a second-floor interrogation room. Marshall and his lawyer were already there, seated at a gray metal table. Marshall tensed visibly at seeing Ryan. Neither man rose.

"Who's this?" the lawyer asked.

"Bodyguard," I said.

"No," the lawyer said.

Shrugging indifference, I turned to go.

Marshall raised a hand. The lawyer turned to him. Marshall gave a tight nod. The lawyer gestured that we should sit.

Ryan and I took chairs opposite the two men. The lawyer introduced himself as Walter Tuckerman. He was short and balding, with heavy-lidded eyes flecked with tiny red veins.

Tuckerman spoke first, looking at me. "Dr. Marshall has a statement to make. You, and only you, may ask questions pertaining to that statement. Should any question go outside the bounds of that statement, I will terminate this meeting. Is that understood, Miss Brennan?"

"It's 'Doctor.'" Icy.

Tuckerman gave me an oily smile. "Dr. Brennan."

Who the hell was this guy? Marshall was taking up my time. Though my impulse was adios, I remained seated.

Tuckerman patted his client's sleeve. "Go ahead, Lester."

Marshall folded manicured hands on the tabletop. He was looking significantly less natty today in his washed-too-many-times faded blue prison garb.

"I have been set up."

"Really."

"There is nothing concrete to connect me to these murders." Marshall kept his eyes fixed on me.

"The DA thinks otherwise."

"What has been concocted is purely circumstantial."

"Unique Montague, Willie Helms, and Noble Cruikshank were all strangled with a wire noose. The police found such a noose at your clinic. In harvesting the organs of Helms and Montague, you left scalpel cuts on their bones."

"Anyone can buy a scalpel."

"Your clinic is outfitted with a makeshift OR. Odd for a facility specializing in aspirins and Band-Aids."

"It was hardly an OR. I am occasionally called upon to excise a boil or do simple suturing. I require good lighting."

When Gullet, the DA, and I had deliberated the advisability of my visiting Marshall and had decided that I would, indeed, talk with him, we'd also discussed what approach I would take. The DA had suggested that I appear open, create the impression I was tipping my hand, while at the same time revealing nothing that the accused didn't already know. Ryan had agreed that the tactic could prove fruitful.

"The Puerto Vallarta police raided your buddy's 'spa.'" I finger-hooked quotation marks. "We know Rodriguez trained as a surgeon, and have statements from patients who received kidneys at his facility. We know that you and Rodriguez attended med school together, and that both of you were sanctioned for abusing your medical licenses." The DA had already shared with Marshall her awareness of all this.

"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."

===OO=OOO=OO===

"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 she 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."