back.
After he exited the small personnel door, Kent said, “I told you he would be ripped.”
I replied, “Who cares?”
Kent replied, “I don’t want to get into a pissing match with this guy. The fact is, he can be very helpful. Half the military personnel live off post on his turf, and ninety percent of the civilian workers on post live in Midland. When we get a list of suspects, we’ll need Yardley.”
“Maybe. But I think every suspect will wind up on government land at some point. If not, we’ll kidnap them.”
Kent shook his head, which seemed to stir his brain, and he asked, “Hey, did you see the general yet?”
“No. Am I supposed to?”
“He wants to see you, ASAP. He’s home.”
“All right.” The bereaved have many things on their minds, but talking to the investigating officer is not usually one of them. But a general, I suppose, is another species of human being, and General Campbell, perhaps, had a need to make things happen, to show he was still in command. I said to Kent, “I just saw Cal Seiver, the forensic OIC. You met him?”
“Yes,” replied Kent. “He seems to have things under control. Has he come up with anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you?”
“I have a preliminary list of possible suspects.”
Kent looked almost startled. “Already? Who?”
“Well, you, for one.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about, Brenner?”
“My suspects are everyone who had contact with the crime scene and/or the victim’s town house. Forensic will pick up traces, footprints, and fingerprints of those people, and I have no way of knowing if those traces were left before, during, or after the crime.” I added, “The preliminary suspects, then, are Sergeant St. John, PFC Casey, who responded to the call, you, any other MPs who were at the scene, Cynthia, and me. These are not likely suspects, but I have to deal with the forensic evidence.”
Kent said, “Then you’d better start getting alibis.”
“Okay. What’s yours?”
“All right… I was home in bed when I got a call from my duty sergeant.”
“You live on post, correct?”
“Correct.”
“What time did you get home?”
“At about midnight. I had dinner in town, then went to the office, worked late, then went home.”
“Your wife can verify that?”
“Well… no, she’s visiting her parents in Ohio.”
“Ah.”
“Oh, fuck off, Paul. Just fuck off.”
“Hey, take it easy, Colonel.”
“You know, you think you’re funny, but you’re not. There’s nothing funny about making a joke about murder and murder suspects.”
I looked at him and saw he was truly agitated.
He continued, “There’s going to be enough of that crap as it is. Enough rumors, whispering, finger-pointing, and suspicion. We don’t need you here making it worse.”
“All right,” I said, “I apologize. But I assumed that three law officers could speak their minds. Nothing we say is leaving this hangar, Bill, and if we speculate, or even make a few idiotic remarks, we understand that it’s between us. Okay?”
But he didn’t look mollified, and he snapped at me, “Where were
I said, “Home alone in my trailer until about 0430 hours. Got to the post armory around 0500 hours. No witnesses.”
“A likely story,” snorted Kent, who seemed inordinately happy that I had no alibi. He turned to Cynthia, “And you?”
“I got to the VOQ about 1900 hours and wrote my report on the Neely case until about midnight, then went to bed, alone, and was awakened by an MP knocking on my door at about 0530 hours.”
I commented, “I’ve never heard three weaker alibis in my life. But, okay, we’ll let them stand for now. The point is, this post is like a small town, and the deceased’s circle of friends, family, and acquaintances includes the top echelons of this community.” I said to Kent, “You wanted somebody on this case who was an outsider. Correct?”
“That’s right. But don’t push it, Paul.”
“Why did you have an MP summon Ms. Sunhill?”
“Same reason I called you. Out-of-town talent.”
It occurred to me that out-of-town talent was another way of saying, “We want two investigators who don’t have a clue about the dirt that everyone here knows about.” I asked Kent, “How well did you know Ann Campbell?”
He hesitated a moment, then chose the words “Fairly well.”
“Would you expound?”
Clearly, Colonel Kent, who outranked me and was himself a cop, was not pleased. But he was a professional and therefore knew what was required of him. He forced a smile and said, “Should we read each other our rights?”
I smiled in return. This was awkward, but necessary.
He cleared his throat and said, “Captain Campbell was stationed here about two years ago. I was here at the time and so were General and Mrs. Campbell. The Campbells invited me to their home with a few other officers to meet their daughter. Our work areas were not related in the usual sense, but as a psychologist she was interested in criminal behavior, and I was interested in the criminal mind. It’s not unusual for a law enforcement officer and a psychologist to have common interests.”
“So you became friends?”
“Sort of.”
“Lunch?”
“Sometimes.”
“Dinner? Drinks?”
“Once in a while.”
“Alone?”
“Once or twice.”
“But you didn’t seem to know where she lived.”
“I knew she lived off post. But I’ve never been to her house.”
“Has she been to yours?”
“Yes. A number of times. For social functions.”
“Does your wife like her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You figure it out, Brenner.”
“Okay. I figured it out.” Cynthia had the good sense to not join in my interrogation of a high-ranking officer, so I turned to her. “Any questions for Colonel Kent?”
Cynthia replied, “Just the obvious one.” She looked at Kent.
He said, “I was never intimate with her. If I had been, I would have told you from minute one.”
“One hopes so,” I said. I asked him, “Did she have a steady boyfriend?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did she have any known enemies?”
