Again, he nodded, then said quite unexpectedly, “I’m very pleased with both of you. I’ve checked you both out, and you come to us with the highest recommendations. It’s our privilege to have you assigned to this case.”
I lifted my feet because the bullshit was getting higher, but I replied, “That’s very good of you to say that.”
He poured us more coffee and said, “So you have a prime suspect. Colonel Moore.”
“That’s correct.”
“Why is he a suspect?”
“Because,” I replied, “there is forensic evidence that he was at the scene of the crime.”
“I see… but no evidence that he actually murdered her?”
“No. It’s possible that he was there earlier or later than the time of the crime.”
“But you have no evidence that anyone else was there.”
“No conclusive evidence.”
“Then doesn’t that leave him as the most likely suspect?”
“As of now.”
“If he doesn’t confess, will you charge him?”
“I can only recommend in a case like this. The final decision as to charges will undoubtedly be made in Washington.”
“It seems to me that your report and recommendation will be the deciding factor.”
“It should be the only factor, considering that no one else has a clue to what happened.” I added, “I must tell you, sir, that these rumors linking Ann Campbell to certain officers on post may or may not include people such as the staff judge advocate, and others who may not be as objective or impartial as they should be in this matter. I hate to be the one to sow seeds of mistrust, but I’m only advising you of what I’ve heard.”
“Heard from whom?”
“I can’t say. But it came from a good source, and I suspect you know how widespread this problem is. I don’t think you can clean your own house here, Colonel. Your broom is dirty. But perhaps Ms. Sunhill and I can.”
He nodded. “Well, on that subject, I was speaking to General Campbell when you arrived. There’s been a new development.”
Uh-oh. I don’t like new developments. “Yes?”
“The Justice Department, in a meeting with your superior, Colonel Hellmann, and the Army judge advocate general and other interested parties, has decided to assign the FBI to this case.”
Oh, shit. I said to Colonel Fowler, “Well, then, the damage control is out of my hands. You and everyone else who wears a green uniform should know that.”
“Yes. Some people are upset. Not everyone in the Pentagon knows how much damage control is necessary, so they caved in to these demands without a good fight. But they did get a compromise.”
Neither Cynthia nor I bothered to ask what it was, but Colonel Fowler informed us, “You two are to remain on the case until noon tomorrow. If, after that time, you haven’t made an arrest and recommended charges, you will be relieved of your investigative duties. Though you will remain available to the FBI for consultation.”
“I see.”
“A task force is assembling right now in Atlanta consisting of FBI personnel, a team from the Judge Advocate General’s Office, the Attorney General’s Office, and senior officers from your own CID in Falls Church.”
“Well, I hope the SOBs all have to stay in the VOQ.”
Colonel Fowler forced a smile. “We don’t want this, of course, and I suspect you don’t, either. But if you think about it, it was inevitable.”
Cynthia said, “Colonel, Army captains are not murdered every day, but this sounds like overkill, and sounds more like PR than good police science.”
“That point was raised. The reality, however, is that it was a female, she was raped, and it was General Campbell’s daughter.” He added, “There is equal justice for all, but some people get more of it.”
I said, “I realize you have nothing to do with this decision, Colonel, but you ought to discuss this with General Campbell and see if he can get this decision reversed or at least modified.”
“I did. That’s how we got the compromise. As of about 2300 hours last night, you and Ms. Sunhill were relieved. General Campbell and Colonel Hellmann bought you some time. They thought you were very close to an arrest. So perhaps if you have good evidence and strong suspicions regarding Colonel Moore, you’ll make that arrest. You have our permission to do so if you feel you need that.”
I thought a moment. Colonel Moore seemed to be the most popular candidate for scapegoat. And why not? Evidence aside, he was a loony who did weird work in secret, and his uniform was sloppy, and General Campbell disliked his relationship with Ann Campbell according to Kent, and he had no significant awards or medals, and he was not a popular officer. Even an MP corporal couldn’t wait to rat him out. This guy was walking into a noose with his face buried in a book of Nietzsche nuttiness. I said to Colonel Fowler, “Well, if I have about thirty hours, I’ll take it.”
Fowler seemed a little disappointed. He inquired, “What’s keeping you from acting on the evidence you have?”
“There’s not enough of it, Colonel.”
“There seems to be.”
“Did Colonel Kent tell you that?”
“Yes… and you indicated that the forensic evidence put Colonel Moore at the scene of the crime.”
“Right. But it’s a matter of times, motive, and ultimately the nature of the act itself. I have probable cause to believe Colonel Moore was somehow involved with what happened out there, but I can’t say he acted alone, or even with malice, or indeed that he can be charged with murder in the first degree. I feel that I have to perfect a case against him, rather than just arrest him and throw the case onto the court.”
“I see. Do you think he would confess?”
“You never know until you ask.”
“When will you ask?”
“I usually ask when the suspect and I are both ready for that kind of conversation. In this case, I may wait until the clock runs out.”
“All right. Do you need the assistance of the post CID?”
“I’ve been informed that Major Bowes was also a lover of the deceased.”
“That’s hearsay.”
“That’s right. But if I—no, Colonel, if you ask him on his honor as an officer, he will probably tell you the truth. In any case, since we may never know for sure, and since it’s come up, he has to disqualify himself from this case. And I don’t want to deal with the people under his command, either.”
“I’m sensitive to that, Mr. Brenner, but a vague accusation—even a confession of sexual involvement with the victim—does not automatically disqualify Major Bowes from the investigation.”
“I think it does. And I think it puts him on the B or C list of suspects until I hear his alibi or lack of same. And on that subject, Colonel, if you’re finished, may I begin my interview with you?”
Colonel Fowler poured himself another cup of coffee with a rock-steady hand. The sun was higher now and the screened porch was a little darker. My stomach was gurgling with coffee and not much else, and my mind was not as alert as it should have been. I glanced at Cynthia and thought she looked better than I felt, but this high-noon deadline meant having to choose between sleep, sex, food, and work. Plan B.
Colonel Fowler asked, “Can I offer you breakfast?”
“No, thank you, Colonel.”
He looked at me and said, “Fire away.”
I opened fire. “Were you sexually involved with Ann Campbell?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone who was?”
“Colonel Kent has told you he was. I won’t mention any other names since to do so seems to put them on your suspect list.”
“Okay, let’s go right to the list—do you know of anyone who might have had a motive for killing her?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Did you know that General Campbell’s junior aide, Lieutenant Elby, was infatuated with her?”
“Yes, I did. That’s not uncommon, nor was it unwise of him to pay
attention to his commanding officer’s daughter. They were both single, attractive, and officers. Marriages actually evolve from these situations.” Colonel Fowler added, “I give the young man credit for balls.”
“Amen. But did she return his attentions?”
Colonel Fowler thought a moment, then replied, “She never returned any man’s attentions. She initiated all the attention, and ended it when it pleased her.”
“That’s a rather startling statement from you, Colonel.”
“Oh, please, Mr. Brenner, you know all of this by now. I’m not trying to protect her reputation from you two. The woman was a… God, I wish I could come up with the right word… more than a seductress, not a tease—she delivered—not a common slut…” He looked at Cynthia. “Give me a word.”
Cynthia replied, “I don’t think we have a word for what she was, except perhaps avenger.”
“Avenger?”
Cynthia said, “She wasn’t the victim of rumor, as you first tried to suggest, and she wasn’t promiscuous in the conventional sense, and neither was she clinically a nymphomaniac. She was, in fact, using her charms and her body to exact a revenge, Colonel, and you know it.”
Colonel Fowler did not seem pleased with this evaluation. I suspected that Colonel Kent had given him only an edited briefing of what he’d told us and failed to include the fact that Ann Campbell’s sexual behavior had a specific purpose, and that the purpose was to make Daddy look like a horse’s ass. Colonel Fowler said to Cynthia, “She did hate the Army.”
Cynthia replied, “She hated her father.”
Fowler seemed, for the first time, uncomfortable. The man was a cool customer, and his armor was tried and tested, and so was his sword, but Cynthia just informed him that his rear was exposed. Fowler said, “The general truly loved his daughter. Please believe that. But she had developed an obsessive and unreasonable hate for him. In fact, I spoke to an outside psychologist about it, and though he couldn’t analyze the dynamics from afar, he did suggest that the daughter might be suffering from a borderline personality disorder.”
Cynthia commented, “From what I’ve heard so far, it doesn’t sound so borderline.”
“Well, who the hell knows what these people mean? I couldn’t follow all he was saying, but it comes down to the fact that the children of powerful men who try to follow in the father’s footsteps become frustrated, then go through a period of questioning their own worth, then eventually to preserve their ego they find something they can do well, something very different from their father’s world, where they will not be in direct competition with him, but something that society considers important. Thus, according to this psychologist, many of them wind up in social work, or as teachers, even nurses or some other nurturing profession.” Colonel Fowler added, “Including psychology.”
I remarked, “Psychological warfare is not exactly a nurturing profession.”
“No, which is where this analysis diverts from the norm. This psychologist told me that when the son or daughter remains in the father’s world, it’s often because they want to harm the father. They can’t compete, they won’t or can’t go off on their own, so they stay close to the source of their anger and engage in what amounts to guerrilla warfare, ranging from petty annoyances to major sabotage.”
He thought a moment, then added, “They do this because it is the only way they can avenge—yes, as you said, Ms. Sunhill—avenge themselves over these imagined injustices or whatever. In Captain Campbell’s case, she was in a unique position to do this. Her father couldn’t fire her, and she had developed a power base of her own. Many sons and daughters who have these feelings against their father, according to this psychologist, engage in promiscuous behavior, drunkenness, gambling, and other antisocial acts that they know will embarrass the authority figure in his world. Captain Campbell, perhaps as a result of her knowledge in the field of psychology, took it a step further, and apparently sought to seduce the men around her father.”
Colonel Fowler leaned across the table and said to us, “I hope you understand that Ann’s behavior was irrational, and that it had nothing to do with her father’s behavior toward her. We all have imagined enemies, and when it’s a parent, no amount of parental love or caring can overcome that anger in the child’s mind. This was a very disturbed woman who needed help, and she wasn’t getting it. In fact, that son-of-a-bitch Moore was fueling the flames of her anger for his own sick purposes. I believe he wanted to see how far he could push and control the dynamics of this situation.”
No one spoke for a full minute, then Cynthia inquired, “Why wasn’t some drastic action taken by the general? Isn’t this the man who led an armored task force to the Euphrates River?”
Colonel Fowler replied, “That was easy. Handling Ann Campbell was not so easy. Actually, the general considered such action about a year ago. But according to the professional advice I was getting, had the general intervened by having Colonel Moore transferred, for instance, or having Ann ordered into therapy, which he could do as a commander, the situation may have gotten worse. So the general listened to this advice and let the situation take its own course.”
I commented, “And it wouldn’t have done the general’s career much good to pull rank on Moore and his daughter. and thereby admit there was a problem.”
Colonel Fowler replied, “It was a very delicate situation. Mrs. Campbell… Ann’s mother thought that the situation would improve if Ann was left to vent her irrational anger. So it was a standoff. But the general had decided to act, just a week ago. But then… well, it was too late.”
“How,” I inquired, “did the general decide to act?”
Colonel Fowler thought a moment and replied, “I don’t know if telling you anything further is relevant to this case.”
“Tell me and I’ll decide.”
“Well… all right, then. The general, a few days ago, gave his daughter an ultimatum. He gave her options. Option one was to resign her commission. Option two was to discontinue her duties at the school and agree to some sort of therapy of the general’s choice—inpatient or out. Option three, the general informed her that if she turned down those options, he would have the staff judge advocate investigate her misconduct and draw up charges for a general court-martial.”
I nodded. Somehow, I felt, this ultimatum, if it was true, precipitated what happened on rifle range six. I asked Colonel Fowler, “How did she respond to this ultimatum?”
“She told her father she’d have an answer for him within two days. But she didn’t. She was murdered.”
I said, “Maybe that was her answer.”
Colonel Fowler looked somewhat startled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it, Colonel.”
“You mean she had Colonel Moore assist her in some sort of bizarre suicide?”
“Perhaps.” I asked him, “And there is no single or specific incident from the past that would explain Captain Campbell’s anger toward her father?”
“Such as what?”
“Such as… rival affections—mother, daughter, that sort of thing.”
Colonel Fowler regarded me closely for a moment as if I were a step away from crossing the line between a murder investigation and an unspeakable breach of conduct and ethics. He replied coolly, “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Mr. Brenner, and I suggest you don’t even try to explain.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is that all?”
“I’m afraid not. It gets even muckier, Colonel. You say you had no sexual relationship with the deceased. Why not?’
“What do you mean, why not?”
“I mean, why did she not proposition you, or if she did, did you turn her down?”
Colonel Fowler’s eyes flitted to the door for a second as if to assure himself that Mrs. Fowler was not around to hear this. He replied, “She never propositioned me.”
“I see. Was that because you’re black or because she knew it was a useless attempt?”
“I… I would rather think it was… She did date a few black officers… not here at Hadley, but in the past, so it wasn’t that. So I’d have to say that she knew…” He smiled for the first time. “… she knew I was not corruptible.” He added, again with a smile, “Or she thought I was ugly.”
Cynthia said, “But you’re not, Colonel, and even if you were, it wouldn’t have mattered to Ann Campbell. I suspect she did proposition you, and you turned her down out of loyalty to your wife, your commanding officer, or because of your own sense of morality. At that point, you became Ann Campbell’s second worst enemy.”
Fowler had clearly had enough and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this in my life.”
I replied, “You’ve probably never been involved in a homicide investigation.”
“No, I haven’t, and if you would make that arrest, this investigation would be over.”
“Actually, it would continue right up to and through a court-martial. I don’t make many mistakes, Colonel, but when I think I may have, I don’t mind working hard to expose my own errors.”
“I commend you, Mr. Brenner. Perhaps, though, Colonel Moore can satisfy your doubts.”
“He can try, but he may have his own version of events. I like to have everyone’s version so I can make a better evaluation as to the quality of the bullshit.”
“As you wish.’
Cynthia asked him, “Did Captain Campbell have any brothers or sisters?”
“There is a brother.”
“What can you tell us about him?”
“He lives out on the West Coast. Some place with a Spanish name. Can’t think of it.”
“He’s not military?”
“No. He’s… he has explored many careers.”
“I see. You’ve met him?”
“Yes. He comes home most holidays.”