“But they’re confined to main post, but that includes Beaumont House, and I had to put a dozen MPs there. They can’t go out to the rifle ranges or Jordan Field—I have MPs on the road. But they’re snooping around all over the damn place.”
“Maybe they’ll have better luck than we did.”
“I don’t like this.” He asked me, “Anything new?”
“We spoke to Colonel Fowler and Colonel Moore. I’d like you to send two MPs to Colonel Moore’s office, ASAP, and baby-sit him. He may not use his shredder, and he may not take anything from his office.”
“Okay. I’ll get on that.” He asked, “Are you going to arrest Moore?”
I replied, “We’re still trying to get a psychological autopsy of the deceased from him.”
“Who cares?”
“Well,” I replied, “Ms. Sunhill and I do.”
“Why? What does that have to do with Colonel Moore?”
“Well, the more I learn, the less motivation I can find for Colonel Moore to kill his subordinate. On the other hand, I see that other people could have strong motives.”
Kent looked exasperated, and he said, “Paul, I understand what you’re doing up to a point, and so will everyone else. But you’ve passed that point, and if you don’t arrest Moore now and he turns out to be the killer, and the FBI arrests him, then you look really stupid.”
“I know that, Bill. But if I do arrest him and he’s not the killer, I look worse than stupid.”
“Show some balls.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey! You’re speaking to a superior officer.”
“Fuck you, sir.” I turned and walked down the hall toward our office. Cynthia followed, but Kent did not.
In our office, we were greeted by a stack of white telephone messages, a pile of reports from forensic and the coroner, and other pieces of paper that appeared to be “read and initial” internal memos, half of which didn’t concern me. The Army could screw up your pay records, send your furniture to Alaska and your family to Japan, and lose all track of your leave time—but if you reported into someplace on temporary duty, you immediately got on the distribution list for bullshit memos even if you were working undercover with an assumed identity in a borrowed office.
Cynthia commented, “That wasn’t a smart thing to do.”
“You mean him telling me to show some balls? No, it wasn’t.”
“Well, that wasn’t smart of him, either. But I mean you telling him, quote, fuck you, unquote.”
“No problem.” I leafed through the stack of telephone messages.
Cynthia stayed silent a moment, then said, “Well, but he did do something wrong, didn’t he?”
“You got that right. And he knows it.”
“Still… you don’t have to rub his face in it. If nothing else, we need him even if he is damaged goods.”
I looked up from the phone messages and said, “I don’t have a lot of compassion for an officer who breaks a trust.”
“Except if her name is Ann Campbell.”
I refused to respond to that.
“Anyway, how about some coffee and donuts?”
“Sounds good.”
Cynthia pushed the intercom button and asked for Specialist Baker to report.
I sat down and opened Ann Campbell’s medical file, which was exceedingly thin for her years in service, leading me to believe that she used civilian doctors. There was, however, a gynecological report dating back to her entrance physical at West Point, and a doctor had noted, “H. imperforatus.” I showed it to Cynthia and asked, “Does that mean an intact hymen?”
“Yes, intact and without any opening. But it is not absolute evidence of virginity, though it’s very likely that nothing very big ever got that far.”
“So we can rule out her father raping her when she was a young girl.”
“Well, pretty much. But we can’t rule out other forms of sex abuse.” She added, “But what Colonel Moore said seemed to have the ring of truth. Whatever her father did to her, he did it to her in her second year at West Point, and I doubt if he could rape his twenty-year-old daughter at West Point… but it’s interesting that she was probably a virgin when she got there. Any other gynecological reports in there?”
I looked but saw none. I said, “They are strangely missing. I suspect she used private doctors whenever she could.”
“Right. You don’t go that long without seeing a gynecologist.” She thought a moment, then said, “Why do I think that whatever happened to her at West Point was sexual?”
“Because it fits. Something to do with an eye for an eye.”
“We know it had to do with her father… maybe he forced her on some superior officer, or maybe…”
“Right. We’re getting close. But let’s wait until we know more.” I gave the medical file to Cynthia and said, “Read the psychiatrist’s report in the back of the file.”
Specialist Baker came in and I introduced her to Cynthia, but they’d already met. I asked Baker, “What do you think?”
“Sir?”
“Who did it?”
She shrugged.
Cynthia looked up from the file and asked Baker, “A boyfriend or a stranger?”
She thought a moment and replied, “A boyfriend.” Baker added, “But she had lots of them.”
“Really?” I asked her, “Did anyone here in the provost office or anyone else ask you to give them any information on this case?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who?”
“Well, I’ve been taking calls for both of you all yesterday and this morning, and everyone keeps asking questions. A Colonel Moore, the victim’s boss, plus Colonel Fowler, the post adjutant, Major Bowes, the CID commander, Police Chief Yardley from Midland, and a whole bunch of other people, including reporters. I wrote all the calls down on the slips.”
“And they were all nosy?”
“Yes, sir. But I just told them to speak to either of you.”
“Okay. Tell me, did anyone here in the provost marshal’s office say anything to you that we should know about?”
Specialist Baker understood the question, wrestled with it, and finally said, “There’s a lot of talk going around here, a lot of rumors, gossip, and things that may or may not be true.”
“Right. I figured that out already, Baker. This is privileged information, and I’ll guarantee you not only anonymity but a transfer to anyplace in the universe you want to go. Hawaii, Japan, Germany, California. You name it. Okay?”
“Yes, sir…”
“Tell me first about Colonel Kent. What’s the news around the office?”
She cleared her throat and said, “Well… there were always rumors that Colonel Kent and Captain Campbell were…”
“Fucking. We know that. What else?”
“Well… that’s about it.”
“How long have you been stationed here?”
“Only a few months.”
“Do you think he was in love with her?”
She shrugged. “Nobody said that. I mean, you couldn’t tell because they’d be real cool when they were together. But you could sort of tell something was going on.”
“She’d come here to his office?”
“Sometimes, usually during the day. At night, he’d go to her office. The MP patrols would see his car heading to the Psy-Ops School, and they’d radio a niner-niner—you know, all points—and say something like ‘Randy Six is inbound to Honey One.’ It was sort of a joke, you know, but Colonel Kent monitored his own car radio, for sure, and he figured out that these made-up call signs referred to him and Captain Campbell, but the callers never ID’ed themselves and always disguised their voice, so he couldn’t do anything about it. I don’t think he would have done anything anyway, because that would just make the rumors worse.” She added, “You can’t get away with much on a small base, and with the MPs, they see a lot of what’s going on like that, but if it’s not against the law, or against regulations, they don’t make t
oo much of it, especially if it has to do with ranking officers.” She added, “Especially if it’s the boss.”
Well, I was glad I asked. I had another question. “Baker, Captain Campbell was the post duty officer on the night she was murdered. You know that?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Colonel Kent’s habit to work late on those nights when Captain Campbell had night duty?”
“Well… that’s what I hear.”
“Do you know if Colonel Kent was here on the night she was murdered?”
“He was. I wasn’t here, but the word going around is that he left the office about 1800 hours and returned about 2100 hours, then worked until about midnight, then left. The personnel who were on duty said he was spotted in his staff car cruising past the Post Headquarters, then he went up to Bethany Hill where he lives.”
“I see. And was it common knowledge that Mrs. Kent was out of town?”
“Yes, sir, it was.”
“And I assume at least one MP patrol cruises Bethany Hill each evening.”
“Yes, sir. At least one each night.”
“And what was the word on Randy Six that night?”
She suppressed a smile. “Well… no visitors, and no one saw his staff car leave the driveway all night. But he could have left in his POV and no one noticed.”
Or he could have used his wife’s car, though I didn’t see any car in his driveway when I drove past this morning. But there was a garage out to the rear of the property. I said to Baker, “You understand the nature of these questions?”
“Oh, yes.”
“This will not become part of the office conversations.”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, thanks. Have someone send in coffee and donuts or something.”
“Yes, sir.” She turned and left.
Cynthia and I sat in silence a moment, then she said, “That was a good idea.”
“Thanks, but I can’t place a lot of confidence in office scuttlebutt.”
“But this is MP Headquarters.”
“True.” I said, “You see why I’m annoyed at Kent. The stupid bastard has become a laughingstock in his own command.”
“I see that.”
“I mean, forget morality if you want. You never, never diddle where you work. People laugh.”
“I’ll bet they laughed at us in Brussels and Falls Church.”
“I’m certain they did.”
“How embarrassing.”
“Right. I hope you learned your lesson.”
She smiled, then looked at me. “What were you trying to establish with Baker? That Kent is the butt of office jokes?”
I shrugged.
She said, “The distance from Bethany Hill to rifle range six is about five or six miles. You could drive there in under ten minutes, even if you did the last few miles without lights, because there was bright moonlight that night.”
“The thought had occurred to me. And you could drive from Beaumont House to range six in a little over ten minutes, if you pushed it.”
She nodded. “Facts to keep in mind.” She looked at the medical file in front of her and said, “What do you make of this psychiatrist’s report?”
I replied, “Ann Campbell had suffered some sort of trauma and wasn’t sharing it with anyone. What do you think?”
“Same. There’s not much to go on in this report, but I’d guess that the problem was not stress or fatigue, but a single event that traumatized her and led somehow to her betrayal by her father. In other words, Daddy was not there for her when whatever happened, happened. Does that all fit?”
“Seems to.” I thought a moment, then said, “I keep thinking that it’s sexual, and that it’s something to do with a guy who had one or two more stars than Daddy, and that Daddy backed off and convinced his daughter to do the same.”
“Something like that.”
I added, “We have to get her service academy file, but I would not be at all surprised if we found it contained nothing relevant to what Moore said.”
The coffee came in a big stainless-steel galley pitcher, with a plastic tray of donuts, cold, stale, and greasy. Cynthia and I dug in and talked awhile.
The phone had been ringing almost constantly, but Specialist Baker or someone else had been picking up. This time, however, when the phone rang, the intercom buzzed, and Specialist Baker said, “Colonel Hellmann.”
“I’ll take it.” I put the phone on two-way speaker so Cynthia could hear and speak, and said into the microphone, “Brenner and Sunhill, sir.”
“Ah, we speak of little else here.”
Karl actually sounded light this morning, which throws me off a bit. I replied, “Is that so?”
“It is. Are you both well?”
Cynthia replied, “Very well, Colonel.”
“Good. I’ve received some complaints about your behavior.”
I replied, “Then you know we’re doing our job.”
He replied, “I know you’re starting to annoy people, which is sometimes an indication that you’re doing a good job. But I called to see if you know that the case is being taken out of your hands.”
“Yes, sir, we know.”
“I did what I could to keep it a CID matter, but the FBI has more influence than I do.”
“We may have this case completed soon, anyway,” I assured him.
“Really? Well, I hope you can wrap it up within the next fifteen minutes, because the FBI has jumped the gun and the task force has already arrived at Fort Hadley.”
“They should stay out of our way until 1200 hours tomorrow.”
“They should, but you’ll trip over a few of them.”
I said, “I get the impression you’re relieved to be out of this.”
“What gives you that impression, Mr. Brenner?”
“Your tone of voice, sir. You sound happy.”
There was a pause, then he said, “You should be happy, too. Nothing good could come of this case for you or for the CID.”
“That’s not how I decide what cases to take.” Actually, it was, sometimes. But sometimes you took a case because you felt it was your duty to do so, or because you felt a personal attachment to it, or simply because you wanted to be the person to catch a particularly nasty bad guy. I informed Karl, “I’m going to solve the case and bring credit and glory on all of us.”
“Well, I respect that, Paul. I do. On the other hand, the potential for discredit and disaster is great.” He added, “The FBI has given us an out. The idiots want the case.”
“So do the two idiots here.”
Karl changed the subject and said, “Forensic tells me you have a suspect. A Colonel Moore.”
“We have an individual who was at the scene of the crime. He is a suspect, yes.”
“But you haven’t arrested him.”
“No, sir.”
“They want you to.”
“Who are they?”
“You know. Well, do what you think best. I never interfere.”
“Hardly ever.”
“Any more suspects?”
“No, sir, but I was just about to dial 1-800-SUSPECT when you called.”
Silence, then, “Ms. Sunhill, in your report you said the rape may have in fact been a consensual act.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So that might indicate that the perpetrator was a friend. Wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But not her superior officer, Colonel Moore, who was apparently at the scene?”
Cynthia glanced at me, then replied, “It’s become very complex, Colonel.” She added, “Captain Campbell had many boyfriends.”
“Yes, I’m hearing that.” He added, in a rare moment of comprehension, “It’s a mess out there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hellmann said, “Paul, you haven’t made contact with Major Bowes yet.”
“No, Colonel. Major Bowes may be part of the problem here. That’s only hearsay, but you might think about calling
him back to Falls Church for a chat.”
“I see.” He stayed silent a moment, then said, “The CID doesn’t need that.”
“No.”
“Are you engaging in damage control?”
“No,” I replied, “that’s not my job.” I added with some satisfaction, “I think I mentioned to you that this was going to be a sensitive case.”
Silence, then, “I only care about the reputation of my officers.”
“Then get Bowes out of here.”
“All right. Can you fax me a report before 1800 hours?”
“No, Colonel, there will be no further reports. We’re extremely busy trying to find a murderer. We’ll report to you in person as soon as they boot us out of here.”
“Understood. Is there anything here we can do for you?”
Cynthia replied, “Yes, sir. We have some information that Captain Campbell and her father had a serious falling-out while she was in her second year at West Point. Whatever happened then is possibly related to this case. It’s possible that what happened may have been public, or at least well known at the academy, or perhaps in the civilian community around West Point.”
“All right, I’ll put some people on it immediately. Academy records, local newspapers, people who were there at the time, and I’ll contact the Criminal Investigation Records Depository in Baltimore. Correct?”
“Yes, sir. And speed is very important,” Cynthia reminded him.
I said to him, “We’re sort of circling around some sensitive issues, Karl, but eventually we have to go right to the heart of the problem. I’m talking about the general.”
“Understood. Do what you have to do. I’m behind you.”
“Right. Do you want to stand in front of me?”
Silence again, then, “I’ll fly down if you wish.”
Cynthia and I glanced at each other, then I said, “We appreciate that, Karl, but if you just hang tough with the boys in the Pentagon, we’d like that.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks.”
He asked, “Are you two working well together?”
Neither Cynthia nor I responded immediately, but then she said, “Very well.”
“Good. There’s nothing like intense heat to forge a strong working team.”
I said to Cynthia so that Karl could hear, “Tell him you apologized to me for Brussels, and that it was all your fault.”