At the risk of sounding too empathetic, I said, “General, you are responsible for everything your subordinates do or fail to do. But in this case, your superiors betrayed you. They had no right to ask that of you.”
“I know. They know. All that talent, experience, and brainpower, and there we were meeting in a motel room in upstate New York in the middle of the night, like criminals talking ourselves into a completely dishonorable and stupid decision. But we’re human, and we make bad decisions. However, had we truly been men of honor and integrity, as we said we were, we’d have reversed that bad decision no matter what the cost.”
I couldn’t have agreed more, and he knew it, so I didn’t say it. I said instead, “So for two years, you and your daughter engaged in close-quarter hand-to-hand combat.”
He smiled grimly. “Yes. It turned out to be not a healing process at all. It was war, and she was better prepared for it than I was. She had right on her side, and that made for might. She beat me at every turn, while I offered to make peace. I thought, if she won, she’d accept my apology and sincere regrets. It tore me apart, as a father, to see what she was doing to herself and her mother. I didn’t care about myself any longer. But I was also concerned for the men she was using…” He added, “Though in some odd way, I was happy just to have her around on any terms. I missed her, and I miss her now.”
Cynthia and I sat quietly and listened to him breathe. Clearly, the man had aged ten years in the last few days, and probably another ten in the last two years. It struck me that this was not the same man who had returned in triumph and glory from the Gulf not so long ago. It was amazing, I thought, how even kings and emperors and generals could be brought down by domestic discord, by the wrath and fury of a wronged woman. Somehow, amid all the sophistication and diversions of this world, we forgot the basics: take care of business at home first, and never betray your blood.
I said to him, “Tell us about rifle range six, and then we’ll leave you, General.”
He nodded. “Yes… well, I saw her there on the ground, and… and I… I honestly thought at first that she’d been assaulted… but then she called out to me… she said, ‘Here’s the answer to your damned ultimatum.’
“I didn’t understand at first what she was talking about, but then, of course, I remembered what they’d done to her at West Point. She asked me where her mother was, and I told her that her mother didn’t know anything about this. She called me a damned coward, then she said, ‘Do you see what they did to me? Do you see what they did to me?’ And I… I did see… I mean, if her purpose was to make me see, then she achieved her purpose.”
“And what did you say to her, General?”
“I… just called out to her… ‘Ann, you didn’t have to do this.’ But she was… she was wild with anger, as though she’d completely lost her sanity. She yelled out for me to come closer, to see what they did to her, to see what she’d suffered. She went on like that for some time, then she said since I’d given her some choices, she was going to give me some choices.” General Campbell paused a moment, then continued. “She said she had a rope around her neck… and I could strangle her if I wanted to… or I could cover this up like I did once before… I could come and untie her and take her away… take her to Beaumont House… to her mother. She also said I could leave her there, and the MPs or the guards or someone would find her, and she’d tell the MPs everything. Those were my choices.”
Cynthia asked, “And did you go to her and try to untie her, as you told us you did?”
“No… I couldn’t. I didn’t go near her… I didn’t try to untie her… I just stood near the car, then… I completely snapped. My anger and rage at all those years of trying to make things right got the best of me… I shouted back at her that I didn’t give a damn what they’d done to her ten years ago… I told her I was going to leave her there and let the guards or the MPs find her, or the first platoon who came out to fire on the range or whoever, and that the whole world could see her naked for all I cared, and—” He stopped in midsentence and looked down at the floor, then continued. “I told her she couldn’t hurt me anymore, and then she started shouting this Nietzsche junk—‘whatever hurts you makes me stronger, what does not destroy me makes me stronger,’ and so on. I said that the only hold she had over me was my rank and my position, and that I was resigning from the service, and that she had destroyed any feelings I had for her and that she had more than equaled the score.”
The general poured himself some water from a carafe and drank it, then continued, “She said that was fine, that was good… ‘Let someone else find me—you never helped me… ’ Then she started to cry, and she couldn’t stop crying, but I thought I heard her say… she said, ‘Daddy’…” He stood. “Please… I can’t…”
We stood also. I said, “Thank you, General.” We turned and made toward the door before he began crying, but a thought came into my head, and I turned back to him and said, “Another death in the family won’t solve anything. It’s not the manly thing to do. It’s very cowardly.” But his back was toward us, and I don’t know if he even heard me.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
I drove out of the Post Headquarters parking lot, went a few hundred meters, then pulled off to the side of the road. A sort of delayed reaction to the interview came over me, and I actually felt shaky. I said, “Well, we know now why the lab people found dried tears on her cheeks.”
Cynthia said, “I feel sick.”
“I need a drink.”
She took a deep breath. “No. We have to finish this. Where’s Moore?”
“He’d damned well better be someplace on post.” I put the Blazer into gear and headed toward the Psy-Ops School.
On the way, Cynthia said, as if to herself, “But in the end, the general did not abandon his daughter this time the way he did at West Point. He left her on the rifle range in a fit of rage, but somewhere on the road, he realized that this was the last chance for both of them.”
She thought a moment, then continued, “He probably considered turning around, but then he thought about what he would need—a knife if the rope needed to be cut, clothing, a woman’s presence. Those attentions to detail that are drummed into us overcame his shock and confusion, and he drove to Bethany Hill, to the one man on this post that he could trust.” Cynthia paused, then asked, “When the Fowlers got there, I wonder if they thought that the general strangled her?”
I replied, “It may have crossed their minds. But when they got back to the house and told him she was dead… they must have seen the shock and disbelief on his face.”
Cynthia nodded. “Would they… should they have cut her loose and taken the body away?”
“No. Colonel Fowler knew that moving the body would only make matters worse. And I’m sure that Colonel Fowler, with his military experience, could determine that she was definitely dead. And as to any suspicion that he himself killed her, I’m sure he blessed the moment when he, the general, or Mrs. Fowler herself suggested that she go along.”
“Yes, if it were Colonel Fowler alone, he’d be in a bad position.”
I considered a moment, then said, “So we know that, aside from the victim, four other people were out there—Colonel Moore, the general, and Colonel and Mrs. Fowler. And we don’t think any of them was the murderer. So we have to place a fifth person out there during that critical half-hour window of opportunity.” I added, “That person, of course, is the killer.”
Cynthia nodded, “Maybe we should have asked General Campbell if he had any idea who it was who arrived during that half hour.”
“I think he believes it was Colonel Moore. If he thought it was anyone else, he’d have told us. I don’t think it has occurred to him that Moore was the accomplice, not the killer. Bottom line, I just couldn’t push the guy any further.”
“I know. I hate to interview a victim’s family. I get all emotional…”
“You did fine. I did fine. The general did fine.”
I pulled into the Psy-Ops School, but Moore’s car was not in its reserved spot. I drove around, past the school’s dining facility, but we didn’t see the gray Ford. I said, “If that SOB left post, I’ll put his ass in a meat grinder.”
An MP jeep pulled up alongside me, and our old friend, Corporal Stroud, was in the passenger seat. “You looking for Colonel Moore, Chief?”
“None other.”
Stroud smiled. “He went to see the provost marshal to get his restriction lifted.”
“Thanks.” I turned around and headed toward main post. I said to Cynthia, “I’m going to nail his ass to the wall.”
“What happened to the meat grinder?”
“That, too.”
I drove to main post, and, as I approached the provost marshal’s building, I noticed that the news media were still there. I parked on the road directly in front of the main doors, and Cynthia and I got out and climbed the steps. We entered the building and went directly to Kent’s office. His clerk said he was in conference.
“With Colonel Moore?”
“Yes, sir.”
I opened his door, and there in Kent’s office was Colonel Moore, Kent, and another man in uniform, a captain. Kent said to us, “Well, I guess I’m glad you’re here.”
The third man stood, and I saw by his branch insignia that he was a JAG officer—a lawyer. The man, whose name tag said Collins, asked me, “Are you Warrant Officer Brenner?”
“I’ll ask the questions, Captain.”
“I guess you are,” he said. “Colonel Moore has requested that he be represented by counsel, so anything you have to say to him—”
“I’ll say to him.”
Moore was still sitting in front of Kent’s desk and was pointedly not looking up. I said to Moore, “I’m placing you under arrest. Come with me.”
Captain Collins motioned for his client to remain seated and said to me, “What is the charge?”
“Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.”
“Oh, really, Mr. Brenner, that’s a silly, catch-all—”
“Plus, Article 134, disorders and neglects, and so forth. Plus, accessory after the fact, conspiracy, and making false statements. Plus, Captain, you are on the verge of Article 98, noncompliance with procedural rules.”
“How dare you?”
I asked Kent, “Do you have two sets of cuffs handy?”
Colonel Kent looked worried now. He said, “Paul, we have some questions of law and fact here. You can’t arrest—well, you can, but I’m in the middle of a conversation with a suspect and his lawyer—”
“Colonel Moore is not a suspect in the murder, so there’s no reason for a conversation, and if there were a reason, I’d be having the conversation, not you, Colonel.”
“Damn it, Brenner, you’ve gone too far—”
“Colonel, I’m taking my prisoner out of here.” I said to Moore, “Stand up.”
Without a glance toward his lawyer, he stood.
“Come with me.”
Cynthia and I left Kent’s office with poor Colonel Moore in tow.
We escorted him down the corridors and into the holding cells. Most of the cells were empty, and I found an open door right next to Dalbert Elkins. I gave Moore a little nudge into the cell and slammed the door shut.
Dalbert Elkins looked at Moore, then at me, and said in a surprised tone, “Hey, Chief, that’s a full colonel.”
I ignored Elkins and said to Moore, “You’re charged with what I said before. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to counsel of your choice.”
Moore spoke for the first time, reminding me, “I have counsel. You just threatened to arrest him.”
“Right. And anything you say may be held against you in a court-martial.”
“I don’t know who did it.”
“Did I say you did?”
“No… but…”
Dalbert Elkins was following all this closely. He said to Moore through the bars, “Colonel, you shouldn’t get a lawyer. It makes him mad.”
Moore glanced at Elkins, then turned his attention back to me. “Colonel Kent informed me that I was restricted to post, so I had no choice but to seek counsel—”
“Now you’re worse than restricted. You’re confined.”
Dalbert said, “They’re letting me out. Restricted to barracks. Thanks, Chief.”
I ignored Elkins and said to Moore, “I have hard evidence that puts you at the scene of the crime, Colonel. There are enough charges against you to put you in jail for ten or twenty years.”
Moore reeled backward as if I’d hit him, and he sat heavily on the cot. “No… I didn’t do anything wrong. I just did what she asked me to do…”
“You suggested it.”
“No! She suggested it. It was her idea.”
“You knew fucking well what her father did to her at West Point.”
“I only knew about a week ago—when he gave her his ultimatum.”
Elkins looked at Cynthia and asked her, “What did he do to you?”
I said to Elkins, “Pipe down.”
“Yes, sir.”
I said to Moore, “I want you out of this Army. I may let you resign for the good of the service. That depends on how cooperative you are.”
“I’m willing to cooperate—”
“I don’t care if you’re willing or not, Colonel. You will cooperate. You will fire your attorney.”
Elkins began to second that, but thought better of it and sat down on his cot.
Moore nodded.
“What were you wearing out on rifle range six?”
“My uniform. We thought it would be best, in case I ran into any MPs—”
“Those shoes?”
“Yes.”
“Take them off.”
He hesitated, then took them off.
“Give them to me.”
He handed them through the bars.
I said to him, “I’ll see you later, Colonel.” I said to Elkins, “How’s my buddy?”
He stood. “Fine, sir. They’re letting me out tomorrow morning.”
“Good. If you run, you die.”
“Yes, sir.”
I walked away from the cells, and Cynthia followed. She asked, “Who was that other guy?”
“My buddy. The reason I’m here at Hadley.” I explained briefly, then went into the office of the lockup sergeant. I identified myself and said to him, “I have a Colonel Moore in lockup. Have him strip-searched and give him only water tonight. No reading material allowed.”
The sergeant looked at me wide-eyed. “You have an officer in lockup? A colonel?”
“He may not have access to counsel until sometime tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
I put Moore’s shoes on his desk. “Have these tagged and delivered to hangar three at Jordan Field.”
“Yes, sir.”
We left and headed toward our office. Cynthia said, “I didn’t know you were going to lock him up.”
“Neither did I until I saw the lawyer. Well, everyone wanted me to arrest him.”
“Yes, but for murder. And you don’t put a commissioned officer in a common lockup.”
“Silly custom. If he goes to Leavenworth, this is good training.” I added, “Besides, people talk better when they’ve tasted jail.”
“Right. Not to mention a strip-search and no rations. The regulations say he has to have at least bread and water.”
“In each twenty-four-hour period. Meanwhile, I haven’t had a decent meal myself in forty-eight hours.”
“You’re going to be officially criticized for the way you’ve handled this.”
“That’s the least of my problems at the moment.”
We entered our office, and I flipped through the phone messages. Aside from the news media, there weren’t many calls. No one wanted to speak to me anymore. There was, however, a message from the worried Major Bowes of the CID, the worried Colonel Weems of the staff judge adv
ocate’s office, and the anxious Colonel Hellmann. I called Hellmann at his home in Falls Church, where his wife assured me that I was interrupting his dinner. “Hello, Karl.”
“Hello, Paul,” he said in his jovial manner.
“Thanks for the fax,” I said.
“Don’t mention it. Don’t ever mention it.”
“Right. We’ve spoken to General and Mrs. Campbell, as well as to Mrs. Fowler. Cynthia and I can reconstruct nearly everything that happened that evening from about the time Captain Campbell had chicken for dinner at the O Club, to the time she reported for duty officer, to the time she took the humvee out ostensibly to check the guard posts, right up to and including the murder and beyond the murder, to dawn and to me becoming involved in the case.”
“Very good. Who killed her?”
“Well, we don’t actually know.”
“I see. Will you know by noon tomorrow?”
“That’s the program.”
“It would be good if the CID could solve this case.”
“Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to a promotion and a raise.”
“Well, you’ll get neither. But I will get that letter of reprimand out of your file as you politely requested.”
“Terrific. Really good. You may get another to take its place. I arrested Colonel Moore, had him thrown in the lockup here, strip-searched, and put on water.”
“Perhaps you could have just restricted him to post, Mr. Brenner.”
“I did, but then he ran off and got a JAG lawyer.”
“That’s his right.”
“Absolutely. In fact, I arrested him in front of his lawyer, and almost arrested the lawyer for interfering.”
“I see. What is the charge, if not murder?”
“Conspiracy to conceal a crime, actions unbecoming, being an asshole, and so forth. You don’t want to discuss this on the phone, do you?”