The General's Daughter - The General's Daughter Part 52
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The General's Daughter Part 52

I asked him, "Does it fit?"

He thought about that for a long moment, then replied, "He was becoming a problem, but..."

"What did Ann say to you about him?"

"Well... that he was calling her at all hours, that he wrote her letters, dropped in on her unexpectedly at home and in the office."

And so on. I asked him, "On the night she was murdered, when you called her at Post Headquarters, did she say he'd been around to see her or that he'd called her?"

He thought a moment, then answered, "As a matter of fact, she did tell me that she wouldn't be using her BMW that night, which was the original plan. She told me to look for a humvee instead. She said that Bill Kent was annoying her again and that she'd be less conspicuous in a humvee, and that she wanted him to see her car in the headquarters lot all night. This presented a problem because her car had a wired-in phone, and I had a portable phone, and we intended to stay in touch as she drove out to the range. But it wasn't a major problem, and she drove out with the humvee and we rendezvoused on schedule."

Cynthia asked him, "Did she mention Kent when you met?"

"No..."

"Did she mention that she'd been followed?"

"No... Well, she said she saw one vehicle behind her, but it turned off toward Jordan Field." He added, "She felt that everything was all right, and I placed the call to her father on my portable phone."

Cynthia said, "Then you went out on the rifle range?"

"Yes."

"After you were done, you waited by the latrine shed to be sure it went as planned."

"Yes."

"Did it occur to you," Cynthia asked, "that Colonel Kent might be a likely person to come on the scene?"

He pondered that a moment, then replied, "I suppose it crossed my mind. He seemed to be hounding her."

"And it never occurred to you that he did did follow her and possibly murdered her?" follow her and possibly murdered her?"

"Well... now that I think about it-"

I said, "You're some sharp detective, Colonel."

He seemed put off by that and replied, "I thought it was the general who... Well, I didn't know what to think. My first thought when I heard she'd been murdered was that her father had done it... but it also occurred to me that her father had simply left her there, and some other person... some maniac... happened along... I just never thought in terms of Kent..."

"Why not?" I asked.

"He... he's the provost... a married man... he loved her... but, yes, now that you mention it, it does fit. I mean, from a psychological point of view, he had become obsessed and irrational. Ann could no longer control him."

"Ann," I pointed out, "had created a monster."

"Yes."

"Did she understand that?"

"On one level. But she wasn't used to dealing with men she couldn't control. Except her father, and perhaps Wes Yardley. In retrospect, she didn't pay enough attention to Bill Kent. She misjudged."

"She failed Abnormal Psych 101."

He didn't respond.

"Okay, what I want you to do is go back to your office and write it out."

"Write what?"

"Everything. A full account of your involvement in this matter. Deliver it to me at the chapel after the service. You have almost two hours. Type fast. Don't mention a word of this to anyone."

Colonel Moore got up and left, looking, I thought, like a faint shadow of the man I'd met just the other day.

Cynthia commented, "This case looked hard, and we all worked hard, but the answer was literally under our nose the whole time."

"That's why it was hard to see it."

Cynthia made small talk for a few minutes, and I made big silences. She kept looking at me.

To avoid any unpleasantness, I picked up the phone and called Colonel Fowler at Post Headquarters. He took my call immediately, and I said to him, "Colonel, I'd like you to take the shoes that you and Mrs. Fowler wore out to rifle range six and destroy them. Secondly, get your story straight with General Campbell. You never went out to the range. Third, get Mrs. Fowler in a car or on a plane immediately after the funeral."

He replied, "I appreciate what you're saying, but I feel I have to reveal my involvement in this."

"Your commanding officer's wish is that you don't do that. A general's wish is his command."

"It's an illegal command."

"Do everyone a favor-yourself, your wife, your family, the Army, me, the Campbells-forget it. Think about it."

"I'll think about it."

"Question-did you take her West Point ring?"

"No."

"Was there a bayonet stuck in the ground when you got there?"

"Not in the ground. The handle was stuck in her vagina."

"I see."

"I removed it and disposed of it."

"Where?"

"I threw it off the Chickasaw River Bridge." He added, "I suppose you'd have liked to check it for fingerprints."

"I would have, yes." But in fact, Kent would not leave a print behind.

"I apologize. It was a gut reaction."

"Lot of that going around."

"This is a mess, Brenner. We've all made a mess of things."

"Shit happens."

"Not to me it doesn't. Not until she got here two years ago. But you know what? It was our fault, not hers."

"I tend to agree." I added, "I may make an arrest this afternoon."

"Who?"

"Can't say. I'll see you at the service."

"Fine."

I hung up. Just when you think you've got your ration of shit-happens for the day, someone heaps on another helping. In this case, an MP major named Doyle was the bearer of the shit. He came into the office and glanced at Cynthia, then addressed me. "Mister Brenner, you signed a release order for a Staff Sergeant Dalbert Elkins. Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"We found him quarters at the MP company barracks."

"Fine." Who gives a shit? Who gives a shit?

"Under the terms of his restriction, he was to sign into the company dayroom every three hours."

"Sounds reasonable."

"He missed his first sign-in at 0800 hours."

Jesus H. Christ. "What?"

"And no one has seen him since."

Cynthia looked at me, then looked away.

Major Doyle informed me, "We've put out an all-points bulletin for his arrest, and notified the Midland police, the county police, and the Georgia state police." He added, "The CID commander, Major Bowes, demands a full report from you on this matter." Major Doyle smiled unpleasantly and said, "You blew it." He turned and left.

I stared at nothing in particular for a while. Cynthia finally spoke. "That happened to me once."

I didn't reply.

"But it happened to me only only once. So you can't get cynical about human nature." once. So you can't get cynical about human nature."

Wanna bet? Timing being everything, this was the time to mention her husband's phone call, but Karl Hellmann's timing was not good, and he picked that moment to show up.

Cynthia and I stood as the big man walked into the little office. He nodded perfunctorily, glanced around, then we all shook hands. Cynthia, being the lowest-ranking person in the room, offered him her desk chair, which he took, while Cynthia took the spare chair, and I sat at my desk.

Karl was wearing his green dress uniform, as we were, and he threw his hat on the desk.

Like me, Karl was once an infantryman, and we both served in Vietnam at about the same time. Our uniforms sported basically the same awards and decorations, including the Bronze Star for valor and the coveted Combat Infantryman's Badge. Being products of the same crucible, and both being middle-aged, we usually dispense with some of the formalities. But I wasn't in a Karl mood that morning, so I intended to stick to courtesies and protocols. I said, "Coffee, sir?"

"No, thank you."

Karl is a good-looking man with a full head of grayish-black hair, firm jaw, and blue eyes. Women, however, don't find him sexy. It may be his manner, which is stiff and formal. In fact, he's rather tight-assed, and if you put a lump of coal up his butt, he'd produce a diamond within a week. That aside, he's a pro.

We exchanged pleasantries for three seconds, then Karl said to me in his slight accent, "I understand our star witness in the arms sale case has become a fugitive."

"Yes, sir."

"Can you recall your line of reasoning in releasing him?"

"Not at the moment, no, sir."

"One wonders why a man who has been offered immunity would decide to commit yet another felony and flee."

"One does wonder."

"Did you explain to him that he had immunity?"

"Yes, sir, but apparently not very well."

"It's a problem, you know, Paul, dealing with stupid people. You project your own intelligence and rationality onto a person who is a complete idiot, and he lets you down. He's ignorant and frightened, and he is a slave to his instincts. The jail door opens, and he runs. Quite understandable."

I cleared my throat. "I thought I had reassured him and won his trust and confidence."

"Of course you did. That's what he wanted you to think when he was on the other side of the bars. They're cunning."

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you'll consult me the next time, before you release a prisoner in a major felony case."

"He was actually a witness, sir."

Karl leaned toward me and said, "He had not one fucking iota of understanding regarding the difference. You put him in jail, you let him out, he ran."

"Yes, sir."

"Article 96 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice deals with the improper releasing of a prisoner through neglect or design. You're in trouble."

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back in his chair. "Now, tell me, what are the most recent developments here?"

Well, to begin with, I never got the chance to sleep with Cynthia, she lied to me about her husband, I'm crushed and pissed, I still can't get Ann Campbell out of my mind, the provost marshal down the hall is probably a murderer, dopey Dalbert beat feet, and I'm not having a good day.

Hellmann turned to Cynthia. "Perhaps you'll speak to me."