“You’re the detective,” he said. He stood, balancing his weight, and raised his arm, aiming the. 45 at the searchlight. A murmur rose up from the crowd, and I hoped it covered the sound of Kaz coming through the door.
It didn’t. I leapt, but Cole saw my move and sidestepped away from me. I came down hard on the edge of the granite wall, Kaz hanging onto my legs, the breath knocked out of me. I looked up at Cole, surprised at how agile he was, and tried to think of what to say.
“Don’t jump.” It was all that I could come up with, and it came out in a wheeze as I gulped air.
“I’m not going to,” he said, and took another careful step away from me, sliding his feet along the narrow ledge. He raised the automatic and placed the muzzle under his chin. He didn’t move as the searchlight played over him and the crowd below gasped. He stood, rock solid, until the slightest movement of his finger shattered the night with a sharp noise, blood, and bone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Who was that up there?” Phil Einsmann asked. He’d been coming upstairs as Kaz and I headed down, and he turned to descend with us. He handed me a handkerchief, and I must have looked at him dumbly because he made a rubbing motion. I ran the handkerchief across my face and it came away red-streaked. I’ve never gotten used to the tremendous power of the human heart, and I don’t mean its capacity to love. I mean as a pump. The last mechanical function at the moment of death by violence, the release of crimson as if the body is leaving its final mark upon this Earth. And on anyone who happens to be close by.
“It’s not a story, Phil. Not one his folks back home need to read, anyway.”
“I’m not asking as a reporter, Billy. I have a lot of friends here. Who was it?”
“Jim Cole. Sergeant with CID. Did you know him?”
“No, not really. I heard he was new with CID, saw him around, but those guys are a tight-lipped bunch. What set him off?”
“Hard to say.” I meant it.
I handed Einsmann his handkerchief, but he told me to keep it. Couldn’t blame him. I introduced him to Kaz, and then left him to go to CID. I didn’t feel like talking right now, and Kaz could tell. He took the handkerchief and wiped the side of my neck. The top of my jacket was covered in tiny dots of drying blood, and I hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. We walked among people filtering back to what they had been doing before the crazy sergeant shot himself on the roof. Shaking their heads, telling each other it was unbelievable, the poor guy must have been off his rocker. All the things people say to put as much distance between their own lives and the suddenness of death.
That was one of the terrifying things about being on the line. There was so little distance. Death was all around you, and not just during combat. It could be a mine where you didn’t expect it, a sniper shot, or a random shelling. It’s why you lived in a hole in the ground, getting as much distance as possible between yourself and the rest of the world.
I found myself standing in front of the door to CID. Staring at it. Kaz was standing by, patiently. I rubbed my eyes, shook my head, and wished I had a hole to crawl into.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Kaz said.
“Yeah, we do. I don’t want anyone going through Cole’s stuff. Might be a clue there.” I put on my cop face and opened the door.
An MP sat at his desk, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. “Jeez, Lieutenant,” he said, shaking his head. “Can you believe it?”
“Did you see it?” I asked.
“Yeah, we were trying to keep people back. That shot. The blood. I couldn’t believe it was Jim.”
“Was he acting strange at all?”
“No more jumpy than usual. He spooked easy. But I never figured he would kill himself. Jesus.”
“Did you see him leave here?”
“Yeah, I did. He went into his office, then came out a few seconds later. He must have gone straight to the roof. Jesus.”
We left the MP and went into the office Cole shared with the other CID investigators. It was empty. Cole’s desk was clean as a whistle except for the white phosphorus grenade set square in the middle of it.
“What is that?” Kaz asked, stopping short of the desk.
“It’s a new kind of grenade. M15 white phosphorus.” I walked around the desk and studied it. The safety lever and pin were both securely in place. It was about the shape and size of a beer can, painted gray with a yellow stripe around it. “When it bursts, the phosphorus makes white smoke, good for cover. It also burns incredibly hot, thousands of degrees, I’ve heard. It’s used for taking out pillboxes or fortifications, if you can get close enough.”
“Why would a CID agent have one?” Kaz asked.
“No reason at all,” I said, opening the two drawers on the side of the desk. The playing cards Cole had shown me were there, along with forms, pencils, an empty holster, and an Armed Services Edition paperback- Deadlier Than the Male, by James Gunn. I flipped through it and two photos fluttered to the floor.
One photo was of Cole standing in front of the Caserta Palace with two people. One of them looked like Captain Max Galante. That was a surprise, but not as much as the other.
“This is Signora Salvalaggio, Galante’s former cook and landlady,” I said. “What was Cole doing with them? For that matter, what was Galante doing with her?”
“We can ask her tonight,” Kaz said. “I am billeted with you.”
“Good, because she doesn’t speak English,” I said, as we studied the other photo, which was much more worn at the edges. It showed three GIs, arms around each other, weapons slung over their shoulders and wine bottles in their hands. It looked like a hot and dusty summer’s day. Sicily, maybe.
“That’s Cole, on the left,” I said. “And Sergeants Louie Walla and Marty Stumpf. Third Platoon. Let’s find these guys. It’s time for secrets to be told.”
We asked the MPs on duty about the WP grenade. No one had noticed it, or seen anybody bring it in. I carefully put it in my jacket pocket and we headed for the jeep. On the main floor I spotted Father Dare, and he made a beeline for me.
“Is it true? Cole killed himself?” He looked stunned, his eyes wide with hope that I’d tell him it was all a mistake.
“Yes, Father, I’m sorry to say it is. I’m heading out to find the other sergeants now. Anything you want to tell me about Cole before I do?”
“I wasn’t there, Lieutenant. Better let them tell you,” he said. “You don’t have to look far, they’re all over at the NCO club. Passes were cancelled, so they drove over here to have a few beers. They told me about Cole.”
“They saw it happen?”
“Yes, Rusty told me. They were walking to the NCO club when they saw all the commotion. Was that you up there with Cole?” He glanced at the stains on my jacket, then locked eyes with me. “What did he tell you?”
“Not nearly enough. Where’s the NCO club?”
“Across the way from the main entrance there’s a row of Quonset huts. It’s marked, you can’t miss it.”
“What were you doing here, Father?”
“I came for a good meal at the officer’s club. I have a feeling we’re pulling out very soon. More replacements came in today; we’re almost back to full strength. I think I’ve lost my appetite, though. Good night, Lieutenant.”
“Good night, Father. I’m sorry.”
Father Dare walked away, looking distraught.
“Isn’t the clergy supposed to comfort others?” Kaz asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “What do you make of a poker-playing padre who carries a. 45?”
“You can be religious and still wish to defend yourself. And to gamble.”
“No law against that. Listen, while I talk with these guys, will you ask around and find out if there’s an
