"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 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?"