The General's Daughter

”

“She never told me,” Kent replied. “I don’t think she ever told anyone. She knew, he knew, and maybe Mrs. Campbell knew. This was not a real happy family.”

“And maybe,” I said, “Charles Moore knew.”

“No doubt about it. But maybe we will never know. I’ll tell you one thing I believe. Moore was the force behind this. Moore told her how she could get back at her father for whatever it was he did to her.”

Which, I thought, was probably true. But that didn’t establish a motive for him to kill her. Quite the opposite. She was his protege, his shield against the general’s wrath, his most successful experiment. The bastard deserved to die, but he should die for the right reason. I asked Kent, “And where did your trysts with the general’s daughter take place?”

He replied, “Here and there. Mostly motels out on the highway, but she wasn’t shy about doing it right here on post, in her office, my office.”

“And at her place?”

“Once in a while. I guess I misled you about that. But she liked to keep her place off limits.”

Either he didn’t know about the room in the basement, or he didn’t know I knew, and if he was in any of those photos, he wasn’t going to volunteer that information.

Kent said to us, “So if Moore is the killer, you’ve wrapped it up without too much damage to the Army and to the people here at Hadley. But if Moore is not the killer, and you’re looking for new suspects, then you’re going to have to start questioning a lot of men here on this post, Paul. I’ve come clean, and you should make them come clean, too. As you say, this is homicide, and to hell with careers, reputations, and good order and discipline.” He added, “Jesus, can you see the newspapers? Think about that story. An entire general staff and most of the senior officers on an Army post corrupted and compromised by a single female officer. That will set things back a few decades.” He added, “I hope Moore is the guy, and that’s as far as it has to go.”

I replied, “If you’re hinting that Colonel Moore is the best man to hang, though perhaps not the right man, then I have to remind you of our oath.”

“I’m just telling you both that you should not dig where you don’t have to dig. And if Moore is the guy, don’t let him try to take everyone with him. If he committed murder, then everyone else’s adulteries and actions unbecoming an officer are not relevant, and are not mitigating circumstances for his crime. That’s the law. Let’s take one court-martial at a time.”

Kent turned out to be not as dull as I’d remembered him. It’s amazing how sharp a man can get when he’s looking at dishonor, disgrace, divorce, and perhaps a board of official inquiry into his behavior. The Army still prosecutes for wrongful diddling, and Colonel Kent definitely diddled wrong. Sometimes I’m awed at the power of raw sex, at how much people are willing to risk—their honor, their fortunes, even their lives—for an hour between two thighs. On the other hand, if the thighs belonged to Ann Campbell… but that’s a moot issue.

I said to Kent, “Indeed, I appreciate your honesty, Colonel. When one man comes forth and tells the truth, others will do the same.”

“Maybe,” Kent replied, “but I would appreciate it if you kept my name out of it.”

“I will, but it doesn’t matter in the long run.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m finished.” He shrugged. “I knew that two years ago when I first got involved with her.” He added, almost light-heartedly, “She must have kept some sort of service schedule, because just when I thought I could make myself believe I’d never slept with her, she’d stop by my office and ask me to have drinks with her.”

Cynthia inquired, “Didn’t you ever think to say no?”

Kent smiled at Cynthia. “Did you ever ask a man to have sex with you, and the guy said no?”

Cynthia seemed a bit put off by that and replied, “I don’t ask men.”

“Well,” Kent advised her, “try it. Pick any married man and ask him to have sex with you.”

“The subject,” said Cynthia, very coolly, “is not me, Colonel.”

“All right, I apologize. But to answer your question, Ann Campbell would not take no for an answer. I’m not saying she blackmailed anyone. She never did, but there was an element of coercion sometimes. Also, she expected expensive gifts—perfume, clothes, airline tickets, and so forth. And here’s the crazy thing—she really didn’t care about the gifts. She just wanted me, and I guess everyone else, to feel the pinch once in a while, to part with more than a little time. It was sort of a control thing with her.” He added, “I remember once she asked me to bring her a bottle of some expensive perfume. Can’t remember what it was, but it set me back about four hundred dollars, and I had to cover that at home with a loan from the credit union, and eat lunch in the damned mess hall for a month.” He laughed at the thought, then said, “My God, I’m glad it’s all over.”

“Well, but it’s not,” I reminded him.

“It is for me.”

“I hope so, Bill.” I asked him, “Did she ever ask you to compromise your duties?”

He hesitated, then replied, “Just small things. Traffic tickets for friends, a speeding citation for her once. Nothing major.”

“I beg to differ, Colonel.”

He nodded. “I have no excuses for my conduct.”

That’s exactly what he was going to say in front of a board of inquiry, and that was the best and only thing he could say. I wondered how she compromised the other men, besides sexually. A favor here, a special consideration there, and who knew what else she wanted and got? In my twenty years in the service, including fifteen in the Criminal Investigation Division, I had never seen or heard of such rampant corruption on an Army base.

Cynthia asked Kent, “And the general could neither stop her nor get rid of her?”

“No. Not without exposing himself as an ineffective and negligent commander. By the time he realized his recruiting poster daughter had screwed and compromised everyone around him, it was too late for official action. The only way he could have righted things was to inform his superiors in the Pentagon of everything, ask for everyone’s resignation here, then offer his own resignation.” Kent added, “He couldn’t have gone too wrong if he just shot himself.”

“Or killed her,” Cynthia suggested.

Again, Kent shrugged. “Maybe. But not the way she was killed.”

“Well,” I said, “if we didn’t already have a prime suspect, you’d be one of many, Colonel.”

“Right. But I didn’t get burned as badly as some of the others. Some of them were actually in love with her, obsessed, and maybe homicidally jealous. Like that young kid, Elby. He used to mope for weeks when she ignored him. Interrogate Moore, and if you think he didn’t kill her, then ask him for his list of suspects. That bastard knew everything about her, and if he tells you it is privileged information, let me know and I’ll put a pistol in his mouth and tell him he can take the information to the grave with him.”

“I might be a little more subtle.” I informed him, “I’m trying to get Moore’s office padlocked until I can get clearance to bring it here.”

“You should just put the damn cuffs on him.” Kent looked at me and said, “Anyway, you see why I didn’t want the local CID guys in on this.”

“I guess I do now. Were any of them involved with her?”

He pondered a moment, then replied, “The CID commander, Major Bowes.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Ask him. He’s one of your people.”

“Do you and Bowes get along?”

“We try.”

“What’s the problem?”

“We have jurisdictional problems. Why do you ask?”

“Jurisdictional meaning criminal activity, or meaning something else?”

He looked at me, then replied, “Well… Major Bowes had become possessive.”

“He didn’t like to share.”

Kent nodded. “A few of her boyfriends got that way. That was when she dumped them.” He added, “Married men are real pigs.” He thought a moment, then said, “Don’t trust anyone on this post, Paul.”

“Including you?”