devices…”
“Really? Go on.”
“Oh… let’s see…” She continued reading from the monitor, “ ‘I put on some music in the room, then knelt down and unzipped his fly. The guy was hard as a rock, and I was afraid he was going to come if I just touched it. I told him he could do anything he wanted to me and told him to look around the room to see what interested him. He was so hot he was just trying to pull his pants off, but I told him I wanted him to stay dressed, to make me his slave, to order me around, to use the strap on me or whatever, but it was his first time and he wasn’t very cooperative about my needs. Finally, he just bent me over the bed, and, with his pants down, he entered me vaginally from behind and came in about two seconds.’ ” Grace said, “Do I hear heavy breathing on the line?”
“That’s Cynthia,” I assured her. “Is that the end of the entry?”
“No, she goes on to say, ‘I took his clothes off, and we showered together. He was anxious to get going and kept apologizing for coming so fast. I made him lie down on the bed naked and put a silly pig mask on his face, then took two shots with a Polaroid and gave one to him, and we joked about it, and he was too polite to ask for the other photo, but you could tell he was nervous about the whole thing. I told him I’d like to see him again and assured him that this was our little secret. He got dressed, and I showed him upstairs to the front door. I was still naked. He looked panicky, like he was afraid to even go outside and be seen leaving my place, and he definitely wasn’t going straight home with his heart still pounding and his knees shaking. Finally, he said that he didn’t want to see me again, and would I mind getting that photo, so I went into my crying routine, and he hugged and kissed me, and I had to wipe lipstick off his face. He left and I watched him from the window, racing to his car and glancing over his shoulder. The next time, I’ll ask him to bring me a case of wine and see how fast he can run up the walk with that in his hands.’ ”
Grace said, “This has got to be made up.”
“Grace, you will not breathe a word of this to anyone, you will not print out a word of anything, and you will guard those computer passwords with your life. Understand?”
“Understand.”
I thought a moment, then said, “Correction. Print out a few Burt Yardley meetings, put them in a sealed envelope, and have them sent to me here, ASAP.”
“Understood.” She said, “There are over thirty different men mentioned here over a two-year period. Do single women sleep with thirty different men in twenty-four months?”
“How would I know?”
“And the way she describes these encounters… my Lord, she’s got a problem—had a problem—with men. I mean, she makes them abuse her, but she’s controlling them and thinking they’re complete fools.”
“She was right about that.” I said to her, “Pull up recent entries for Colonel Weems and Major Bowes and tell me if it’s hot stuff.”
“Okay… hold on…” She said, “Here’s Weems, 31 July, this year… Yes, very steamy stuff. You want me to read it?”
“No, I can’t handle much more. How about Bowes?”
“Right… 4 August, this year… wow! This guy is weird. Who is this?”
“Our local CID man.”
“Oh… no!”
“Yes. Mum’s the word. Speak to you later, Grace.” I hung up.
Cynthia and I sat silently for a moment, then I said, “Well… if I was a married colonel, the general’s new operations officer, and the general’s beautiful daughter invited me over for a drink…”
“Yes?”
“I’d run.”
“Which way?”
I smiled, then said, “Couldn’t he have held out for more than twenty minutes?”
Cynthia commented, “You know, Paul, I understand from my experience in rape cases that some men have difficulty controlling their urges. But you guys should try to think with the big head, not the little head.”
“A rising cock has no conscience, Cynthia.” I added, “In the case of Sam Davis, don’t blame the victim.”
“You’re right. But I think she was a victim, too. This is not about sex.”
“No, it’s not. It’s about Operation Trojan Horse.” I thought a moment, then said, “Well, we can assume that Burt Yardley knows where the basement playroom is.”
“Probably,” Cynthia agreed. “But I doubt that she brought Wes Yardley down there.”
“That’s true. He was the boyfriend. He had no real power, on or off post, and he isn’t married, so he couldn’t be compromised or blackmailed. But I wonder if Wes knew about his old papa dipping into the same honeypot.”
“You have a way with words, Paul.”
Specialist Baker came in and informed us, “Police Chief Yardley and Police Officer Yardley are here to see you.”
I replied, “I’ll let you know when I want to see them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone from the CID detachment at Jordan Field will be here shortly with an envelope. Bring it in as soon as it arrives.”
“Yes, sir.” She left.
I said to Cynthia, “We’re going to have to separate Burt and Wes at some point.”
“Right.”
I stood. “I have to go see a buddy of mine in the lockup.” I left the office and followed a maze of intersecting corridors to the holding cells. I found Dalbert Elkins in the same corner cell where I’d put him. He was lying on the cot, reading a hunting and fishing magazine. They hadn’t given him a uniform, and he was still in his shorts, T-shirt, and sandals. I said, “Hello, Dalbert.”
He looked up, then sat up, then stood up. “Oh… hi…”
“They treating you okay, buddy?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean, yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you write a good confession?”
He nodded. He looked less frightened now, and more sulky. It is my policy, shared by most CID criminal investigators, to visit the people you’ve locked up in jail. You make sure the MPs or the stockade guards are not abusing them, which unfortunately happens in military confinement from time to time. You make sure their families are okay, they have some money for sundries, have writing materials and stamps, and you give them a friendly ear. I asked Elkins about all these things, and he assured me he was not being mistreated, and he had everything he needed. I asked him, “You want to stay here, or do you want to go to the stockade?”
“Here.”
“You can play baseball in the stockade.”
“Here.”
“Are you being cooperative with the CID guys?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you want a lawyer?”
“Well…”
“You have a right to be represented by counsel. You may have a JAG lawyer at no expense to you, or you may hire a civilian attorney.”
“Well… what do you think?”
“I think if you get a lawyer, you’ll make me very angry.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you feel like the dumbest, sorriest son-of-a-bitch who ever lived?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re going to make it right.”
“Yes, sir.”
