‘After Barker, let’s see if we can get some answers from Abby Quinn.’ McCabe picked up the phone and called Wolfe’s office. There was no answer, but he left a message saying Abby was at Winter Haven and it was time to try hypnotherapy as they’d discussed. The sooner the better.

On the way out they could still hear Shockley bragging to whoever was still listening about great police work.

Thirty-Six

At exactly 10:32 A.M. four PPD vehicles pulled up around the corner from 342 Brackett Street. Uniformed cops emerged from two black-and-white units and slipped around the back and sides of the building to keep Andy Barker from sneaking out. When they were in position, McCabe and Maggie, along with evidence techs Bill Jacobi, Jeff Feeney, and Carla Morrisey, entered the building. Jacobi and Feeney lugged two silver-colored metal suitcases filled with electronic equipment up to the second floor. Maggie limped up behind them, and they all waited silently on the landing. Downstairs McCabe knocked on the door to apartment 1F. ‘Barker?’ he called out.

There was no answer, but McCabe could hear the sound of someone shuffling around inside.

He knocked again. ‘Andrew Barker? This is the police. Please open the door now.’

He heard more scurrying on the other side.

‘Mr Barker. We have a warrant to search your apartment. If you don’t open the door now, I’ll be forced to have it removed.’

Another few seconds passed. The door opened an inch or two, a gold-colored security chain stretched across the opening. Barker peered out. ‘You again. Why won’t you people leave me alone? What do you want now?’

McCabe held up a sheet of paper. ‘I have a warrant signed by Judge Harold Krickstein of the district court authorizing a search of your premises. Please open the door now.’

‘What if I say no?’

‘Trust me, Mr Barker, I don’t think you want to do that.’

There was a moment’s further hesitation; then Barker slipped off the chain and opened the door. He was unshaven and wearing a dark blue terrycloth bathrobe. Probably had nothing on underneath. Skinny white legs wearing black ankle socks protruded from under the robe. From upstairs, McCabe could hear Maggie and the three techs unlocking Goff’s apartment and going in.

Barker frowned at the sound. ‘Who’s that up there?’

McCabe ignored the question and moved past Barker into the room. A wave of hot air hit him. It had to be over eighty degrees, and the place stank of sweat, garbage, and dirty laundry.

Barker eyed McCabe warily. ‘Who’s upstairs?’

‘Move away from the door, Mr Barker,’ said McCabe. ‘Come in and close it.’

Barker didn’t argue. McCabe looked around. Almost every surface was covered with something. Clothing, videos, and magazines. A fifty-two-inch flat-screen TV dominated one wall. A single La-Z-Boy recliner covered in stained brown corduroy faced the screen; a copy of a publication called Boobz lay open on the seat, its cover graced by a naked woman with the biggest breasts McCabe had ever seen. Behind the recliner were a couple more chairs and an old-fashioned couch covered in a brown gingham check.

‘Who’s upstairs?’ Barker asked again.

McCabe pointed to the gingham couch. ‘Sit over there, Andy. We need to talk.’

Barker sat. McCabe stood over him and showed him a piece of paper. ‘This is a warrant to search your apartment.’

‘I know. You told me. So what are they doing upstairs?’

‘Detective Savage and a team of police technicians are sweeping apartment 2F for hidden cameras and microphones, Andy. The ones you used to spy on Elaine Goff.’

Barker started to rise, his face red with rage. ‘They can’t . . . What the hell?’

McCabe pushed him gently back down. ‘I think you better stay right where you are, little Andy-Man, and tell me all about your video collection.’

Barker’s rage turned to fear. His eyes started blinking rapidly, perhaps uncontrollably. His hands were shaking. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, sure you do, Andy. The spycam videos you took of Lainie. You liked watching her, didn’t you, Andy? Better looking than those gals in Boobz magazine, don’t you think? Y’know, I can just see you now, sitting there in your La-Z-Boy getting off on watching Lainie when she didn’t know you were looking. What did you like best? Watching her getting undressed? Or maybe taking a bath? Or maybe your best fun was watching her have sex with somebody? You watched it all, didn’t you? Right there on your super duper fifty-two-inch high-definition plasma TV. Or is it an LCD? I always get them mixed up.’

Barker just kept blinking.

‘In fact, you’re a regular little Peeping Andy, aren’t you?’

Barker closed his eyes and began repeating his mantra. ‘I have the right to remain silent –’

‘Andy, Andy.’ McCabe held up a hand like a traffic cop stopping a line of cars. ‘Please don’t start that again. We all know that song.’

‘I have the right to remain silent,’ Barker began again. ‘Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. I have the right to have an attorney present during questioning –’

‘Yes, you do, Andy, but hold on. When you hear what I have to offer, maybe you won’t want to remain silent.’

Barker just looked at him.

McCabe’s cell rang. ‘Yes? Yes. Good. Thank you.’

He put the phone away and turned back to Barker. ‘That was the folks upstairs. They found your cameras hidden in the old ceiling light fixtures. One in the bedroom. One in the bathroom. One in the living room.’ McCabe looked at his watch. ‘Took them about ten minutes start to finish. They’re just double-checking now to make sure there aren’t any more.’

Barker took a deep breath and looked toward the TV. ‘What do you want?’

‘Now, since you wouldn’t want all that good stuff you were watching to go to waste, my guess is you were recording videos. My other guess is you have them right here in this apartment.’

McCabe paused for a response. There was none, so he continued. ‘Since we have this search warrant, we can rip this place apart until we find your stash, wherever it is, and then go back to Middle Street and sit there watching your dirty movies till we find what we’re looking for. Then again that seems like a lot of unnecessary work, don’t you think, Andy, when you can just point us to the right ones?’

‘What are you looking for?’

‘The video of the guy who searched Lainie’s apartment Friday night before I got there. Plus any other video that shows her talking to a man, maybe the same man, either in person or over the phone.’

‘What do I get out of it?’

‘You hand them over and you get charged with a Violation of Privacy. A Class D offense. Max sentence only one year, which you’d probably serve in the county jail and not state prison. In fact, if you have a clean record and no priors, you might get off with no jail time at all. Just probation.’

‘What if I don’t hand them over?’

‘That becomes what I call helping the bad guys and what the Maine statutes call Hindering Apprehension. A Class B crime. Up to ten years in the state prison. Even without priors, you’ll do at least four. And it’s hard time, Andy. In a place where a cute little fella like you might not do very well. So it’s no jail time if you help. Four to ten if you don’t. Sounds like a good deal to me, but it’s your call. Take it or leave it.’

‘Can I think about it?’

‘Sure. You’ve got one minute.’

‘Can I get it in writing?’

‘It already is in writing. Just check the Maine statutes. Violation of Privacy versus Hindering Apprehension.’

‘Do I get to keep my other videos?’

‘You mean of Lainie?’

‘Yes.’

McCabe did his best to keep a straight face. Who was this goofball? ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

Barker sighed, got up, and walked to a DVD machine on a table next to the television. He took one video off the top. Then he hit POWER, pressed EJECT, and took out a second disk. He handed both to McCabe. ‘I think these are what you’re looking for.’