of military reservation out there.”
“Right, but there’s that latrine with running water, and, according to Robbins, who got it from her sergeant, people go out there to fuck. Presumably, they might want to wash up afterward.”
“Well, it’s still possible that she was waylaid by a psycho who didn’t realize how close he was to a guard post.”
“Possible, but the visible evidence suggests otherwise.”
“And why would she do it on a night she was on duty?” Cynthia added.
“Part of the kick. The woman was into kicks and kink.”
“She was also into doing her duty while on duty. The other stuff was her other life.”
I nodded. “Good point.” I asked her, “Do you think St. John is hiding anything?”
“Well, he wasn’t hiding his opinions. But basically, he told us all he knew. How about Robbins?”
“She told me more than she knew she knew. Not badlooking, either. Clean country girl from ’Bama.”
“If she’s a PFC, she’s young enough to be your greatgranddaughter.”
“Probably a virgin.”
“Then she can run faster than her uncles and brothers.”
“My, aren’t we in a rare mood.”
She rubbed her temples. “Sorry, but you bug me.”
“Well, why don’t you go get some lunch, and I’ll go call Karl Gustav before he hears about this from someone else and has me shot.”
“Okay.” She stood. “Keep me on this case, Paul.”
“That’s Herr Hellmann’s decision.”
She poked me in the gut again. “It’s
“What if I don’t?”
“But you do.”
I walked her outside to her car, and she got in. I said, “I enjoyed working with you these last six hours and twenty-two minutes.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I enjoyed about fourteen minutes of it myself. Where should I meet you, and when?”
“Back here at 1400 hours.”
She pulled out of the lot, and I watched the red Mustang blend into midday post traffic.
I went back into the provost marshal’s office and found out where my requisitioned office was. Kent had me in a windowless room with two desks, two chairs, one file cabinet, and enough room left over for a trash can.
I sat at one of the desks and glanced through the leather address book, then threw it aside and tried to think it all out—not the case itself, but the politics of the case, the interpersonal relationships, and my best course of action regarding protecting my ass. Then I thought about the case itself.
Before I called Hellmann, I had to get my facts straight and keep my theories and opinions to myself. Karl deals in facts but will consider personal assessments if they can somehow be used against a suspect. Karl is not a political animal, and the underlying problems with this case would not impress him. In the area of personnel management, he assumes that everyone would work well together if he ordered it. Last year in Brussels, I had asked him not to assign me to any case or any continent on or in which Ms. Cynthia Sunhill worked. I explained that we’d had a personal falling-out. He didn’t know what that meant, but he gave me a firm assurance that he might possibly consider thinking about it.
And so I picked up the phone and called Falls Church, taking some satisfaction in the knowledge that I could ruin Karl’s day.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
The Oberfuhrer was in, and his clerk-typist,Diane, put me through. “Hello, Karl.” “Hello, Paul,” he replied with a hint of a German accent.
The pleasantries aside, I informed him, “There’s been a murder here.”
“Yes?”
“General Campbell’s daughter, Captain Ann Campbell.”
Silence.
I continued, “Possibly raped, definitely sexually abused.”
“On post?”
“Yes. At one of the rifle ranges.”
“When?”
I replied, “This morning between 0217 and 0425 hours,” which completed the who, what, where, and when questions.
He asked the why question. “Motive?”
“Don’t know.”
“Suspects?”
“None.”
“Circumstances?”
“She was duty officer and went out to check the guard posts.” I filled in the details and added my involvement through Colonel Kent, my meeting up with Cynthia Sunhill, and our examination of the scene and of the victim’s offpost residence. I didn’t mention the recreation room in the basement, knowing that this conversation might be recorded and that, strictly speaking, it wasn’t privileged information. Why put Karl in an awkward position?
He stayed silent a moment, then said, “I want you to go back to the scene after the body has been removed and, using the same tent pegs, you will stake Ms. Sunhill to the ground.”
“Excuse me?”
“I see no reason why a healthy woman could not pull the stakes out.”
“Well, I can. The stakes were angled away from the body, Karl, and she wouldn’t have the leverage, and presumably there was someone there with a rope around her neck, and I think—my assumption is that it was a game at first—”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. But at some point she knew it was not a game. We know from past experience what strength a woman can summon when her life is in danger. She may have been drugged or sedated. Be sure toxology looks for sedatives. Meanwhile, you and Ms. Sunhill will attempt to re-create the crime from beginning to end.”
“You’re talking about a simulation, I hope.”
“Of course. Don’t rape or strangle her.”
“You’re getting soft, Karl. Well, I’ll relay your suggestion.”
“It is not a suggestion. It is an order. Now tell me in more detail what you found in Captain Campbell’s house.”
I told him, and he made no comment about my failure to notify the civilian authorities. So I asked him, “For the record, do you have any problems with my entering her house and removing the contents?”
“For the record, you notified her next of kin, who agreed to or even suggested that course of action. Learn to cover your own ass, Paul. I’m not always available for that job. Now you have five seconds for homicidal reverie.”
I took the five seconds, painting a delightful mental image of me with my hands around Karl’s neck, his tongue sticking out, his eyes bulging…
“Are you back?”
“Another second” … his skin turning blue, and finally… “I’m back.”
“Good. Do you want FBI assistance?”
“No.”
“Do you want another investigator from this office, or from our detachment at Hadley?”
“Let’s back up. I don’t even want this case.”
