The General's Daughter (46 page)

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 advocate’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?”

“No. Why don’t you fax me a report?”

“No reports. Maybe Warrant Officer Kiefer can fax you a report.”

“Oh, yes. I hope she’s being helpful.”

“We didn’t know we had a third partner.”

“Now you know. I actually called you because the CID commander there called Falls Church, and he’s rather upset.”

I didn’t reply.

“Major Bowes. You remember him?”

“We’ve never met.”

“Nevertheless, he’s making all sorts of threats.”

“Karl, there are about thirty officers on this post, almost all of them married, who were sexually involved with the deceased.
They’re all going to threaten, beg, plead, cajole, and—”

“Thirty?”

“At least. But who’s counting?”

“
Thirty?
What is going on out there?”

“I think it’s something in the water. I’m not drinking it.”

Cynthia stifled a laugh, but too late, and Karl said, “Ms. Sunhill? Are you there?”

“Yes, sir. Just picked up.”

“How do you know that thirty married officers were sexually involved with the deceased?”

Cynthia answered, “We found a diary, sir. Actually, a computer file. Grace got into the deceased’s computer.” She added, “The
officers include most of the general’s personal staff.”

There was no reply, so I said, “I think we can control this if that’s what they want in the Pentagon. I’d suggest transfers
to thirty different duty stations, followed by individual resignations at varying intervals. That wouldn’t draw any attention.
But it’s not my problem.”

Again, no response.

Cynthia said, “General Campbell intends to resign tomorrow after his daughter’s funeral.”

Karl spoke. “I’m flying down tonight.”

I replied, “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow? There’s an electrical storm here, tornado warnings, wind shear—”

“All right, tomorrow. Anything further?”

“No, sir.”

“We’ll speak tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it. Enjoy your dinner, sir.”

He hung up and we did the same.

Cynthia commented, “I think he likes you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Well, how about a drink?”

“Not yet.” She pushed the intercom and asked Ms. Kiefer to come in.

Kiefer entered with her own chair, now that we were all equals, and sat down. She inquired, “How’s it going, guys?”

“Fine,” Cynthia replied. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“This is where the action is.”

“Right. I’d like you to go through all your MP patrol reports for the night of the murder. Listen to the tapes of the radio
transmissions, check the desk sergeant’s log, see if any traffic or parking tickets were issued that night, and talk to the
MPs who had duty that night, but be discreet. You know what we’re looking for.”

Kiefer nodded. “Yes. Cars and people where they’re not supposed to be after about 2400 hours. Good idea.”

“Actually, you gave me the idea when you told us about Randy Six. That’s the sort of thing that could be significant. See
you later.”

We left Ms. Kiefer in our office. In the hallway, I said to Cynthia, “You may have something there.”

“I hope so. We don’t have much else.”

“Drink?”

“I think you should go talk to Colonel Kent. You’ve been very rough with him. I’ll wait for you out front. Ask him to join
us for a drink. Okay, Paul?”

I looked at Cynthia a moment, and our eyes met. It seemed from her tone of voice and her demeanor that she wanted more from
Kent than his goodwill. I nodded. “Okay.” I went toward his office, and Cynthia continued on toward the front lobby.

I walked slowly toward Kent’s office, my mind going faster than my legs.
Colonel William Kent
—motive, opportunity, the will to act, a strong presumption of innocence, but a weak alibi.

Position determines perspective. Or, to put it more simply, what you see depends on where you’re standing. I’d been standing
in the wrong place. I’d been standing too close to William Kent. I had to step back and see Kent from a different angle.

It had been gnawing at me for the last two days, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it, or even think it. Kent had invited
me to take the case, and that had put me in a certain mind-set. Kent was my only on-post ally at Fort Hadley. Everyone else
was a suspect, a witness, a compromised officer, or a victim of sorts. Kent had belatedly confessed to being compromised,
too, but only because he thought I’d eventually discover something regarding him and Ann Campbell, and he may also have suspected
that Cynthia and I had found the room. In fact, if I thought about it, Burt Yardley probably told Kent that the door of the
room had been glued shut, and they suspected that it had to be me who did that. The contents of the room appeared to be intact
when Yardley came upon the room, but neither he nor Kent could be sure of what I had found there or taken away.