He smiled and shrugged.

‘Bill, I’d like to get the body up to Augusta as soon as we can,’ Terri said to Jacobi. ‘How long do you think it’ll take to pry her out of the trunk?’

‘When we’re finished with the scene here, we’ll flatbed the Beemer to 109. We’ll probably end up cutting the car out from around her. Take a couple of hours to do it neatly.’

‘You can get her up to Augusta tonight, though?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Okay, I’ll call Jose Guerrera so he’s there to receive.’ Guerrera was Terri’s lab assistant.

Joe Vodnick up close looked even bigger than he did from a distance.

‘It’s Joe, right?’

‘Yes sir, Sergeant.’

McCabe looked him up and down. Mostly up. ‘You ever play ball?’ he asked.

Vodnick smiled. ‘Yeah. A few years back. U. Maine Black Bears. All-conference defensive end. Twice, ’01 and ’02.’

‘I think I saw you play once. Real nice moves.’ McCabe was bullshitting. He’d been to one U. Maine game in his life, and that was a couple of years after Vodnick graduated. Still, the big man seemed pleased at the compliment, which was what McCabe intended in the first place.

‘Yeah. I was pretty quick for my size.’

McCabe smiled at Vodnick, threw an arm around one massive shoulder, and steered him away from the cluster of cops to the other side of the pier. ‘Joe, you and I need to talk,’ he said, keeping his voice low, his tone friendly. ‘Tell me what went down tonight.’

‘It was just like I told Detective Savage. I was patrolling the Old Port. Not much going on. At least not on the streets. Too damned cold. Anyway, I get a call. Dispatch tells me to check out an illegally parked car at the end of the Fish Pier.’ Vodnick repeated the rest of the story pretty much the way Maggie had told it.

When he finished, McCabe nodded thoughtfully. ‘Why’d you pop the trunk?’

‘Why?’

‘Yeah. Why. You know? Probable cause?’

Vodnick shrugged. ‘Car wasn’t locked. Keys sitting in the ignition. Didn’t feel right. A 40K car left like that. First I thought maybe the car was stolen by some joyrider, then just dumped here, but I checked, and it wasn’t.’

‘But you did notice that little plastic bag full of white powder that was sticking out from under the driver’s seat? Isn’t that right?’

Vodnick hesitated. ‘White powder?’ He shook his head. No.

McCabe’s eyes bored into the bigger man’s. ‘You remember, Joe. That small plastic bag of white powder that’s now in the evidence van. That’s what caused you to pop the trunk, isn’t that right?’

Vodnick hesitated again. Then, as understanding dawned, ‘Yeah, right,’ he said, nodding slowly. ‘That small plastic bag. Under the driver’s seat? The one I thought might contain an illegal substance?’

McCabe nodded back at him. ‘That’s right. That’s the one. So what did you do when you saw it?’

‘Well, I figured I better open the trunk to see if there might be more illegal substances back there.’

‘And did you find any?’

‘No. All I found was the woman’s body.’

‘And you haven’t discussed this with anyone else?’

‘Just Detective Savage.’

‘Not with any of your pals over there?’

‘No. Nobody else.’

There was something so earnest and childlike about Vodnick’s response, McCabe found himself resisting a temptation to reach up and pat the big man on the head. He settled instead for a more manly slap on the back. ‘Okay. That’s good. Where’s Hester now?’

‘Sitting in his office keeping his butt warm.’ Vodnick pointed up to a couple of lit windows on the second floor of the building nearest the end of the pier. ‘I told him to sit tight till you talked to him.’

‘What does he know?’

‘I didn’t tell him about the body, but he’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to have figured something was up.’

‘Alright, I’ll let him know we want to talk to him at 109. Then I want you to take him downtown, get a set of prints, then park him in an interview room on four. Got it?’

‘Got it.’

McCabe slapped his shoulder again, turned, and headed for the building. Maggie fell into step alongside. ‘All set with the big guy?’ she asked.

‘All set.’

‘Good.’

A small sign identified the three-story aluminum box as the MARINE TRADE CENTER, 2 PORTLAND FISH PIER. They took the stairs up one flight and found a door with HESTER ASSOCIATES, MARINE AND GENERAL INSURANCE painted on frosted glass. It was basically a one-room office. Maybe three hundred square feet. Doug Hester was sitting at his desk, sipping a cup of coffee, looking out at the scene below. He didn’t look happy. Probably hated being here this late on a Friday night. That was alright. McCabe hated it, too. Hester was a chubby little guy, maybe five foot six. McCabe put him somewhere in his mid-fifties. He combed his reddish brown hair over in a fruitless attempt to hide male pattern baldness.

‘Mr Hester?’ asked Maggie. Hester looked up. ‘I’m Detective Margaret Savage. This is Detective Sergeant Michael McCabe. We’re in charge of the investigation, and we’d like you to come down to police headquarters to review everything you reported related to the incident.’

‘Is this really necessary? I already told the other officer, the big guy, everything I know. Which isn’t a whole lot. It’s my sister-in-law’s birthday. We’re having a dozen people over to celebrate. They’re probably already there.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said McCabe, ‘but I’m sure your sister-in-law will understand. A woman’s body was found in the trunk of the car.’

‘A dead body?’

‘Yes.’

Hester blanched. ‘Jesus. A dead body sitting there for two days. How’d she get in the trunk?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’

‘Jesus, why the hell would anyone leave a dead body in a car on the pier?’

‘We don’t know. But like Detective Savage said, we’d like you to come down to Middle Street and tell us what you know.’

Hester just shook his head in apparent disbelief. ‘I’m not sure what I can add.’

‘Going over it again may help you remember things you didn’t realize were important when you talked to Officer Vodnick. Or maybe didn’t realize you saw.’ Maggie gave him her best smile. ‘Anyway, since you apparently touched the car we’ll also need to get a full set of your fingerprints. Unless you were wearing gloves at the time.’

‘I wasn’t. I just ran downstairs to look at the car. I wasn’t even wearing a coat.’

‘Okay. Officer Vodnick will drive you down. It shouldn’t take long.’

‘Can’t I take my own car?’

‘We’d rather you went with him.’

‘Alright,’ Hester said nervously, ‘but one of you is gonna have to explain to my wife why I’m missing her sister’s party. She’s going to be mightily pissed.’

Five

Murder is major news in Portland, and major news travels fast. By the time McCabe and Maggie slipped out the back door of the Marine Trade Center, a cluster of reporters and photographers was already gathering at the front. The two detectives snuck along the side of the building, using a pair of parked vans bearing the logos of the local NBC and Fox affiliates as cover. The idea was to get to Maggie’s car and drive away unnoticed. It didn’t work. Luke McGuire, the crime beat guy for the Press Herald, spotted them first. ‘Hey, McCabe,’ he shouted. McCabe stopped. Game over. The reporters surged forward, shouting out questions and shoving microphones in his face. He turned to face them. Dealing with the press had never been McCabe’s strong suit. In fact, Chief Shockley had warned him more than once that if he didn’t stop snarling at journalists he’d be involuntarily enrolled in a course at USM called Effective Media Relations. Or, as Maggie put it, SmileyFace 101.

‘Hey, McCabe,’ McGuire repeated, ‘who’s the dead woman? What’s her name?’

McCabe tried to put on his best friendly yet serious face. ‘Sorry, Luke, I’m afraid we don’t yet have positive identification. Until we do, she’ll be listed as Jane Doe.’