flower gardens, a few dozen varieties of large trees in spring bloom, and chairs and benches placed along the walkways. In another month, the snack bar in the center, fondly called Ground Zero by legions of Cold Warriors, would open for lunch, allowing the 27,000 inmates of the Pentagon a half an hour of fresh air and mental respite from the crumbling concrete pile. surrounding them.
There were. a few dozen people out in the court, and Karen thought the two of them, this great bear of a civilian and a Navy female commander, must present an incongruous image. She was used to being stared at by men, but she wondered now if they were looking at her or at him. Train led them to a park bench near the center, where they sat down. For a moment he just stared down at the sidewalk, saying nothing.
“Okay. NIS investigator talking now. Two ways to look at this. Either our Admiral Sherman is indeed the target of a stalker, who may or may not have iced the admiral’s exgirlfriend, or-“
“Or?” Karen suddenly felt uncomfortable with the direction of Train’s logic.
“Or he’s making it all up. And he pushed the Walsh woman down the stairs. For that insurance policy. Two hundred fifty large constitutes a reasonable motive in these here uncertain economic times.”
But he has an alibi. A verified alibi for the time of death.
“For the presumed time of death. And-it wasn’t really verified in any ironclad sense. That restaurant on a busy Friday night? Look, the Walsh matter-bottom line? He had a motive: the money. There was opportunity: -Re has a key to the house. He had full knowledge of her place, her domestic routines. She would gladly have let him in without a second thought. He had the means: He could have easily surprised her, pushed her down the stairs. And now the mysterious letter from the even more mysterious SEAL? We have only his word for it. His house was broken into, but did he report it to the cops? No. Were there busted windows or jimmied doors? No. And now, most conveniently, there is no letter. If I were the Fairfax cops, and I heard ihis little fable, I’d be thinking that this is smoke he’s blowing my way, a classic case of offense/defense. The killer doesn’t run from the cops, he runs toward them, all anxious and sincere. He feeds them stuff, lots of distracting stuff. Throws crap in the air, and-the slippers, the laundry downstairs instead of upstairs, and now this mysterious letter.”
“Damn,” she said.
Train leaned back and rubbed his hands together, making a sound like sandpaper. He had very large hands, with ridges of callus on the edges of his palms. “The Fairfax cops might, in fact, have something,” he was saying. “‘They might well be feeding out some rope and hoping like hell that Sherman gets cocky and wraps it around his own tricky neck. ” Karen thought about what he said for a long moment, then shook her head.
“I don’t get that sense of it,” she said.
“Obviously, there’s more to this story. He wouldn’t tell me anything about what happened back in Vietnam to start all this. Says he can’t tell, in fact.”
“How convenient for him.”
“Or it ‘could be true. I don’t know. I was just coming into the Navy when that war was ending. He’s made it to flag rank, but I get the impression he’s paid a personal price for his career success. Remember what he said about never wanting to remarry? I saw some pictures of Elizabeth Walsh in that house. She was extremely attractive, and yet he bailed out the moment she started even talking about marriage. Not because of her but because of what he went through the first time he was married. There must be some emotional wreckage somewhere back there in his wake.
That’s why I’m going to go with him to this memorial service tonight.
Now, what was that uh-oh all about?”
Train was quiet for a moment. He looked around at all the spring greenery, his face an impassive mask. “I may be wrong,” he said. “But the Bureau told you Galantz was an MIA. If Sherman is telling the truth-that is, he knows Galantz was in fact alive after he had been declared MIATHEN Galantz may be doubly dangerous.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Yeah, I know. Let’s do this. See if you can set up a second meeting with the cops. Maybe-do it in Sherman’s house, or anywhere that’s not their turf, okay? You say you have a records-retrieval request in?”
“Yes. They said it will take a few days.”
“Okay. But if he’s an MIA, his record’may not be in deep storage. I’ll join you for this meeting. In the meantime, -I’ve got to check on something; then maybe I can explain what I meant about his being doubly dangerous.”
“And you think we shouldn’t tell Admiral Carpenter anything about this letter?”
“For now, that’s correct.” He looked straight at her. She was struck again by the incongruity between his physical size and the intelligence gleaming out of those eyes. “This could involve some heavy stuff,” he said. “I hope not. I hope our boy admiral is totally innocent.”
“I guess I’m confused,” she said.
He nodded slowly, and she sensed that there was some latent energy stirring in him. “Karen,” he said, “no offense intended here, but you might be getting way -out of your depth. I know I’m the new guy on the block and that I’m probably sounding presumptuous, but I strongly recommend you go slowly, very slowly, and carefully in this matter, okay?”
She swallowed because her throat had dried up suddenly.
She felt a chill that was out of place amid all the vernal warmth and light of the center court.
Karen arrived promptly at Saint Matthew’s at 6: S. church was a smallish Methodist brownstone, and its entrance was set practically onto the sidewalk along Glebe
“Road in Arlington. There was a small, heavily wooded graveyard next door, but there did not appear to be any preparations in place there.
She went in and found Sherman, who was also still in uniform, sitting in one of the back pews, as if unsure of how he might be received by the small crowd of Elizabeth’s coworkers clustered up front. Karen was relieved when an elderly gentleman slipped into the pew behind theirs as the service opened and squeezed Sherman’s arm. Sherman introduced her to Adm. Galen Sc - hniidt. Five minutes after the service started, Mrs.
Karen could sense Sherman’s discomfiture, and she felt a sudden lump in her own throat when she realized where she was. The absence of a coffin in the center aisle of the church only highlighted the stark fact that Elizabeth Walsh was indeed gone. She knew only too well what that felt like. She wondered if Sherman was adding the what-if mantra to the sorrow of his own loss: If I had not run away from this woman, would she still be alive? Or worse: Is she’dead now because of something that happened in a far-off place a very long time ago? That would be a tough one. Train von Rensel’s warning came fleetingly to mind. Looking out of the side of her eyes, she still couldn’t picture this intense man as a murderer. And yet Train’s logic made some sense.
The service was secular and short. When it was over, Karen remained seated in the pew while Sherman’talked quietly to Mrs. Klein and the elderly admiral. Galen Schmidt was of medium height and spare frame, with a congenial, handsome face that she remembered from when he had been Chief of Naval Personnel a few years back. But now his hair was snow white and he had a porcelainlike complexion.
Although he looked as if he were nearing his mid-seventies, Karen knew he couldn’t be much past sixty-three or -four, so that heart condition must be pretty serious. People started to leave, and Sherman herded his small group out the front door.
“Nice service, Tag,” Admiral Schmidt said, adjusting his raincoat and looking at the scudding overcast. Karen stood behind them as she slipped on her own black Navy raincoat.
Schmidt said he was going to get right home before the rain hit. “You going to be okay tonight?” he asked Sherman.
“I think so, Galen. Thanks for coming. Besides you and the ladies here, I’m afraid I was the odd man out. I don’t really know any of those people.”
“They’re not who you came to say good-bye to, Tag.
Chin up. Life goes on. Commander, Mrs. Klein, nice to meet you all. I am sorry for your loss, Tag. Come see me in a day or so.”
“I will, Galen. Thanks again for coming out tonight.”
Schmidt shook hands with everyone. Karen noticed that the bones in his fingers felt like bird bones, featherlight, almost fragile. Sherman waved as the old man steamed off down the sidewalk toward his Cadillac, and then he looked around, as if trying to remember where he had parked his own car. Mrs. Klein made her own hasty departure, and then it was just Karen and the admiral standing on the sidewalk as the rest of the other people came out. Everyone seemed to be concentrating on the first raindrops spattering on the steps. The admiral was not
