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."

35

GULLET AND I WATCHED RYAN ENTER THE INTERROGATION room. Daniels looked up, then stretched out his legs and slouched, one arm on the table, one draping the chair back.

"Remember me, Corey?" Ryan asked.

"Detective Do-right."

"Close enough."

"I need a cigarette."

"Tough," Ryan said.

Daniels looked momentarily surprised, went back to bored.

Rapport? I thought.

"Do you object to having this interview taped?" Ryan asked.

"Would it matter if I did?"

"It's for your protection and mine."

Ryan turned on the machine, tested, spoke his name, the name of the witness, the time, and the date.

"Your boss is in a lot of trouble," Ryan began.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"What were your duties at the GMC clinic?"

"I'm a nurse."

"What did you do, exactly?"

"Nurse people."

"Easy enough to find out."

"Do what you gotta do."

"I'm getting the impression there's a lack of enthusiasm for this conversation, Corey."

"What? I should say I like getting busted by the heat?"

"Some of that heat could be turned onto you."

"You'll never make a case for me offing those people."

"Who says anyone wants to do that?"

"Marshall's not trying to put this on me?"

"Actually, he is."

"I been hassled before. I can deal." Daniels shot a hand through his hair. "I really need a smoke."

"Why nursing?"

"What?"

"You're what? Six-five, two-eighty? Tough guy like you. Why nursing?"

"Good money. High demand."

"Write your own ticket."

"Yeah."

Ryan indicated Daniels's tattoos.

"Where'd you do your stretch?"

"Huntsville."

"What was the bump?"

Daniels snorted. "Bitch claimed I smacked her around, coonass judge bought the whole crock." Daniels made a finger pistol of his right hand and shot it at Ryan. "Don't mess with Texas."

I glanced at Daniels's tattoos. Skulls, a skewered heart, spiders in a web, entwined snakes crawling the forearm. Classy. I was beginning to wonder when the rapport would kick in when Ryan thumb-jabbed Daniels's belt buckle.

"I see you're a Harley guy."

"So?"

"I had a ninety-five Ultra Classic Electra Glide. Loved that bike more than my own mother."

For the first time Daniels looked directly at Ryan. "You shitting me?

"Man lies about some things. His height. His dick. Never his bike."

Daniels slapped a hand to his chest. "Two thousand and four Screamin' Eagle Fat Boy."

"A softail man."

"Touring bikes are for wimps," Daniels scoffed.

"No feeling in the world like flying with the wind in your face."

"You got that right."

"Ever been gunning along, suddenly you're eating cement?" Ryan asked, grinning.

"No shit." Smiling broadly, Daniels placed both arms on the table, palms up. One wrist was circled by a crescent-shaped scar. "A nun." Daniels shook his head in disbelief. "Clipped by a nun in a Hyundai. Next thing I know I'm in an ER and she's setting up a hotline to God. Hospital scene was worse than the fucking wipeout."

"When I got nuked the prick never stopped."

"This nun still follows up, feels guilty as hell. I tell her forget it. Price of the ride, man, price of the ride."

"Permanent damage?"

"Pussy left hook, but who needs it? My right's the annihilator." Another incredulous head shake. "A nun."

Ryan nodded understanding, fellow bikers baffled by the foibles of fate. Daniels was the first to speak.

"Look, man, I'm sorry those people got greased. But I had nothing to do with it."

"We're not trying to get in your face, Corey. This is information gathering. We just need to know if you ever noticed Marshall do or say anything weird."

"It's like I told that Nazi sheriff. Marshall was a psycho about two things. Keeping the place clean, and keeping out of his office."

"What was the purpose of the large room upstairs?"

Daniels shrugged. "Beats me. Never saw anyone in it but the cleaning guy."

"You never found that odd?"

"Look. I came in, I did my job, I left."

"Notice anything off about Marshall?"

"We've been over and over this shit. I wouldn't want to get naked with the guy, but Marshall was an OK boss, all right?"

"How about Helene Flynn?"

Daniels slouched back again. "Shit, I don't know. She was like this nun I'm talking about. Classy. Real nice to the patients. I tried feeling her out, you know, dropped a few lines, chick shut me down cold. I don't need to go begging for it, you know what I mean?"

"Did Helene get along with Marshall?"

Daniels's finger was working the tabletop, making a soft squeaking noise.

"Corey?"

Daniels shrugged. "I dunno. At first, yeah. Later, she seemed jumpy when the doc was around. I figured maybe he was hitting on her, too."