‘Lainie Goff one of them?’

‘Yes, Lainie was a volunteer. She was also on our board of trustees.’

‘Active?’

‘Very. This organization meant a lot to her.’

‘What was her role?’

‘She did some fund-raising. She was very good at that. She was also our attorney. Pro bono, of course.’

‘Yours or the kids’?’

‘Both. We get hassled by the powers that be all the time – the city, the child welfare agencies. She fended them off. Sometimes abusive parents want their children back. She fended them off as well. Lainie was a tough, smart, take-no-prisoners kind of lawyer. This is the kind of work she should have been doing full-time instead of slaving away in that corporate sinkhole.’

‘Palmer Milliken?’

‘Yes. She was better than that. A better lawyer. A better person, though she probably didn’t know it. The fourteen-hour days she spent there would have counted for a lot more if she’d spent them here.’

‘Why do you think she did it? Work there, I mean? Was it just for the money?’

‘Money was important to her. Too important in my view. See, the thing you’ve got to understand about Lainie is she was insecure. She always needed to prove she was the best. The smartest, the toughest, the sexiest, the most beautiful. Whatever. That’s what drove her. Still, no matter how well Lainie did, and she always did very well, somehow it was never good enough. Insecurity does terrible things to a person. It’s a sad thing to say, but I think the only time I ever saw her genuinely happy was when she was here working with the kids.’

‘Really?’

‘Strange, isn’t it? The tough-as-nails lawyer as surrogate mother. She always seemed to gravitate toward girls like Tara who’d come from sexual abuse situations. They trusted her. She seemed to have an intuitive understanding of what they’d been through.’

She had a stepfather, but I don’t think she’d want him notified of anything. What Janie Archer said to him now made more sense. ‘Do you suppose Lainie went through an abusive childhood herself?’

‘I don’t know, but that’s what I’ve always thought. Work with these kids long enough and you learn they give off a certain vibe. You can feel it. I felt it in Lainie. I even asked her about it once or twice, but she never wanted to talk about it. She’s a very private person. Was a private person.’

McCabe made a mental note to find out more about Wallace Albright. Find out if he was still alive, still in Maine, and maybe still abusing young girls.

‘Lainie only worked with the girls?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Interesting.’

‘If she was abused as a child, I think it fits. She saw males as the enemy. People to be used and manipulated but not to be trusted.’

‘She trusted you, didn’t she?’

‘I think so.’

‘What was your relationship with her?’ ‘We were close. As close as she ever let anyone get to her.’

‘Except for the kids?’

‘Yeah. Except for them.’

‘Were you intimate?’

‘You mean sexually?’

‘You tell me.’

‘No. We weren’t intimate. Not sexually. Not in any other way either, except that we both cared about the kids. She was a private person and didn’t share much about her personal life.’

‘She was also a beautiful, sexy woman, and you’re not a priest anymore. Weren’t you ever tempted? Physically, I mean?’

Kelly stared at him. ‘I’m otherwise involved.’

‘Who with?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Ever been to her apartment?’

‘No.’

‘Where were you last Tuesday night from about 9:00 p.m. till midnight?’

Kelly smiled at the inference. ‘It would seem I’m a suspect.’

‘Everyone’s a suspect.’

‘Last Tuesday night I was where I am every Tuesday. Sitting right here writing grant proposals till about two in the morning.’

‘Then what?’

‘I went to sleep.’

‘Where?’

‘There’s a staff bedroom upstairs. One member of the staff is always on premises. We rotate. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my nights.’

‘Anybody see you?’

‘Nobody any jury would ever believe.’

‘Who?’

‘Just a couple of street kids who banged on the door about midnight. They wanted beds. We didn’t have any, but it was too cold to let them sleep outside. So I gave them something to eat and let them sleep in the kitchen.’

‘They have names?’

‘Sure. One calls himself Bennie. Male prostitute. Gives blow jobs for drug money. He’s about seventeen. He lived here for a while last year, but we had to bounce him out.’

‘Bennie have a last name?’

‘He says it’s Bennie Belmont, which may or may not be his real name. He’s a liar and a troublemaker. He broke the rules twice and then some. You might be able to find him if you prowl around the right bars. The other one said his name was Gerald R. McGill, which I know was phony.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Had to be. Unless he owns the funeral parlor across the street. Anyway, Bennie and Mr McGill left the next morning, and I haven’t seen either of them since.’

‘How about Friday, December twenty-third? Two days before Christmas. Where were you, say, around 9:00 P.M.?’

Kelly thought for a minute. ‘At home. In my apartment. On Howard Street.’

Howard Street was just a few blocks from McCabe’s place on the Eastern Prom. ‘Anybody with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘My partner. We share the apartment.’

‘You’re gay?’

‘I’m gay.’

‘What’s your partner’s name?’

‘Edward Childs. People call him Teddy.’

‘Mr Childs will confirm you were together that night?’

‘I’m sure he will.’

‘There were just the two of you, home alone two days before Christmas? No parties to go to? No celebrations?’

‘We like it that way. We had dinner. Wrote some last-minute cards. Read. Went to bed.’

‘How long have you and Teddy been together?’

‘Eight years.’

‘Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill Lainie?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘You have any kids here who are mentally unstable?’

‘If you’re talking about emotional problems, anxiety, depression, stuff like that, it’s pretty near one hundred percent. If you’re talking about being bipolar or schizophrenic, we’ve had a few, but not many. Mostly we’re not equipped to deal with it.’

‘Can you give me a list of the kids Lainie had closest contact with? We’ll need to interview them.’

‘You saying one of the kids might have done this?’

‘It’s possible, but I doubt it.’ McCabe knew a street kid leaving obscure messages from the Bible was more than unlikely, and the same kid driving a new BMW would be as conspicuous as an elephant dancing a waltz. ‘We just want to talk to them. Somebody may know something.’

Kelly nodded. ‘How far back do you want to go?’

‘Since Goff started working with you.’

‘That’s over three years. Probably a dozen kids. Maybe more. You may have trouble finding some of them.’

‘We have resources. We’ll also want to interview the rest of the staff.’

‘Okay. I’ll e-mail you both lists as soon as we can put them together. What’s your e-mail?’

McCabe handed Kelly his card, then asked, ‘You ever hear the name Abby Quinn?’

‘Of course. Abby lived here for about six months last year. She’s older than our usual profile, but her psychiatrist is also on the board, and he thought the experience would be good for her. We treated her as kind of an unpaid intern. She did a little of everything.’

‘What’s her psychiatrist’s name?’

‘Wolfe. Dr Richard Wolfe.’

It amazed McCabe once again what a small town Portland was. You kept running into the same people everywhere. ‘How can Abby afford a fancy doctor like Wolfe?’

‘Medicare. Abby’s on disability. At least she was when she lived here.’

‘Was Dr Wolfe right? About Sanctuary House being good for her?’

‘I think so. Abby’s a diagnosed schizophrenic, but she stayed on her meds, did her chores, and tried hard to fit in. She did well.’