A Long Day for Dying Page 12

  “Take your time, Martin.” But the tapping continued.

  I asked Weller if General Garber’s wife knew about his affairs.

  She answered cautiously. “All I can tell you is, they don’t live together.”

  “Oh?”

  “Haven’t for years. The separation’s been kept quiet, for appearances. She still puts in face time with him at official functions.” Her voice turned sarcastic. “After all, the air force can’t have a general who doesn’t have a spouse.”

  I glanced to her hand. No wedding ring. This explained her slam against the air force’s informal policy of promoting only married officers to the upper ranks. I asked her where Mrs. Garber lived.

  “She has a penthouse condo in the Jefferson Towers.”

  My eyebrows went up. That was the most exclusive apartment building in D.C. Places there started at a couple mil easy, well beyond the price range for a general officer. But then most generals didn’t have a senator daddy who was worth millions.

  “Do you have Mrs. Garber’s number?”

  She rattled it off from memory, and I jotted it in my notepad.

  I was done, and I glanced at Simon to see if he had anything further. He shook his head. He seemed curiously uninterested in Weller now, displaying no signs of his earlier impatience. He did make a point of thanking Weller for her honesty and assistance. The remark seemed unnecessary, and I suspected Simon had said it to give her a false sense of security.

  Which meant he still had something up his sleeve.

  After I instructed Weller to wait outside and send in Lieutenant Colonel Gustin, she was incredulous. “Youstill want me to stay? Why? I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “It will only be for a few more minutes.” I gave her a sympathetic smile.

  She grimaced, grabbed her purse, and rose in a huff. As she went to the door, I saw Simon sit forward, his eyes fixed on her back.

  Here it comes…

  Simon had a flair for the dramatic; he waited until she was almost to the door. Then: “Did you hate General Garber enough to kill him, Colonel?”

  I had to hand it to Weller. She was a cool one. She never even flinched. She brazenly continued right up to the door, as if she hadn’t heard him.

  He said sharply, “Colonel—”

  Her hand froze on the handle. Slowly, she faced him.

  The smart answer was a denial. I fully expected a denial. Instead, Weller drew in a deep breath and said, “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Did you kill him, Colonel?”

  She hesitated. “Am I under any obligation to answer?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll decline, then.”

  “Would you be willing to submit to a lie-detector test?”

  A faint smile. “I don’t think that would be wise, Lieutenant.”

  “Probably not. Good-bye, Colonel.”

  “Good-bye, Lieutenant.”

  16

  Isat there in disbelief. I said to Simon, “Okay, you called it, but I still think it’s a stretch. Why would she deliberately want to appear guilty?”

  “Perhaps she is, Martin.”

  “Then why doesn’t she just confess? Why the games?”

  He shook his head.

  I said, “I got to tell you I’m with Andy on this. I don’t see how she could have pulled off the killing. She can’t weigh more than an hundred and ten pounds. Unless she drugged General Garber—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The killing was a spontaneous act.”

  “Right.” This still made the most sense. “So we’re talking about a second person in the compartment with her. Someone who helped her restrain Garber—”

  “I disagree. I doubt Colonel Weller had anything to do with the crime.”

  Now I was completely lost. “Simon, she practically told us she was involved. Remember?”

  He gave me a cryptic look. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Don’t. The key is the interview. Initially, she was clearly trying to convince us she couldn’t be a suspect. Later, she changed her mind. Why?”

  I considered this. “Go on.”

  “Two possibilities. First, Colonel Weller could intentionally be trying to confuse the investigation. Perhaps under orders from her superiors.”

  “Thin,” I grunted.

  “Is it? We know the military doesn’t want the murder solved. It’s certainly conceivable that—”

  “Get real, Simon. Would the military stonewall an investigation? You bet. Would they try and intimidate us into backing off? Absolutely. But getting an officer to sacrifice herself for a possible murder rap—”

  I stopped. What the hell was I saying? I sighed and shook my head. “Scratch that. You’re right. Weller’s not risking anything. The military will never allow us to make a case against her. They can’t.”

  Simon nodded, squinting at the carnation on his lapel. He adjusted it, contemplated it, adjusted it again. Finally, a nod. Mr. Perfection.

  I said, “You mentioned a second explanation.”

  “Hmm. Yes. It could be that Weller has decided on her own to protect the killer. But I think that’s highly unlikely.” He paused, thinking. “Not unless she had a reason. Possibly a connection to…but that would mean…I wonder if…”

  I waited a few seconds. “If what?”

  But Simon was gone, lost in his thoughts. For the next thirty seconds, he sat there like a mannequin. Right up until the moment we heard the knock on the door and Lieutenant Colonel Marsha Gustin, the aide to General David Markel, walked into the room.

  • • •

  In contrast to Colonel Weller, Colonel Gustin displayed little emotion as she related the events of the morning. She spoke slowly, in the dull monotone characteristic of military briefings. Her responses to my questions were a broken record of denials. No, she didn’t know who might have wanted to kill General Garber. No, she didn’t know of anyone on the plane whom he might have been sleeping with. No, she didn’t know any way to enter the compartment once the door and closet were locked. No, she had no knowledge why the other generals resented General Garber. No, General Markel had never expressed any particular dislike for—

  I’d had enough. My bullshit light came on bright. I asked her straight out if anyone had ordered her not to cooperate with the investigation.

  She gave me a long blink, trying to mirror Weller’s big-eyed innocence. She ended up looking as if she had contact lens problems.

  “Colonel,” I said, “are you aware that this is an official inquiry? As such, any false statements you make can be prosecuted under the UCMJ.”

  Her eyes popped wide, this time for real. She stammered, “I…I wasn’t aware that—”

  “Who told you to withhold information?”

  She stumbled through, “No one. I swear. No one told me—”

  “It was your boss, General Markel, wasn’t it?”

  She stared at me in shock. She shook her head.

  I leaned close and spoke in a harsh whisper. “Now what if I informed General Markel that you verified he was the one who ordered you not to cooperate?”

  She turned pale. “But I didn’t—”

  “Last chance. Did General Markel order you, Colonel?”

  “No. I swear.”

  “Have it your way. Simon.” I motioned him to pass me the folder with the passenger and crew information that General Morley had given him. I flipped to the page with the number for General Markel’s office. As I removed my cell phone, Colonel Gustin watched me in growing horror.

  She squeaked, “He’ll…he’ll never believe you. He’ll know you’re lying.”

  I placed the call, and a secretary who sounded about eighty answered. I said, “Ma’am, I’m Agent Collins of the OSI. I’d like speak with General Markel—If you’ll take a message—”

  “Don’t. Please.”

  I cupped the phone, eyeing Gustin. “I want the truth.”

  She nodded dully, her face miserable.

  After telling the secreta
ry I’d call back, I tucked my phone away. To Gustin, I said, “So it was General Markel?”

  “Not just him. He did the talking, but they were all there.”

  “General Sessler and General Johnson?”

  “Yes. They called me to their section. While we were still on the plane. They said…they said there would be an investigation. They wanted me to stay behind, but not be too cooperative.”

  “They mention anything specific?”

  She hesitated.

  “If you lie, I’ll know.”

  “It was…it concerned Colonel Weller. I was told…they wanted me to say that she was sitting beside me, during the whole flight.”

  A stunning revelation. It was all I could do keep my voice calm. I said, “So Colonel Weller left your section?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long was she gone?”

  “I’m not sure. At least a couple of hours. From around 2300 hours to a little after 0100.”

  She was giving me local East Coast time. The spread fit the window when Garber had probably died.

  I said, “Did she say anything when she returned?”

  “No. But I could tell that she was upset. Anxious. And that’s not like her. Tina never gets rattled about anything. She’s usually so…controlled.”

  “She never told you what was bothering her?”

  “No. I assumed it was General Garber. That he’d chewed her out.”

  This clinched it. Weller had known Garber was dead. The question was how. The most obvious conclusion was that she was either the killer or involved in the killing. When I looked to Simon, he shrugged. It was clear he still didn’t consider Gustin’s testimony particularly damning to Weller.

  And when I thought about it, I realized he might be right.

  It came down to Secretary Churchfield and the three generals. Specifically, their willingness to go along with the cover-up. Regardless of the political considerations, it seemed absurd to believe that four of the most powerful people in the military would risk their careers to protect a lieutenant colonel.

  Toss in Weller’s pseudo-confession, and only one conclusion made any sense. The killer had to be one of—

  A phone rang, breaking in on my thoughts. Simon automatically reached into his jacket. Only this time it was mine.

  I was surprised to hear Amanda’s voice. She sounded furious with me. “Why the hell didn’t you warn me, Marty? Son of a bitch. She walked right out and almost caught me going through her—”

  I jumped from my chair and lunged past a startled Colonel Gustin toward the door. “Stop her!” I screamed into the phone.“Stop her!”

  17

  Iburst into the hallway and came face-to-face with a wall of blue uniforms. All had on either pilot or aircrew wings—the plane’s crew, arriving to be questioned. They recoiled at the sight of my wild face. A burly major said, “Is there some kind of a problem, or—”

  I was already pushing past him. I sprinted down the hallway, trying to stuff my cell phone in my jacket. I could hear Simon right behind me. We ran into the hangar. The med techs were loading the gurney with Garber’s body into the back of the Humvee. Andy was leaning against the hood, watching them. As we tore past, he called out cheerfully, “Hey, fellas, where’s the fucking fire?”

  I hollered out Weller’s name to the two security cops. They pointed to the side door. I heard Andy say, “Aw, shit, don’t tell me that—”

  Simon and I reached the door. I threw it open and went out first.

  We took maybe five strides before our fears were confirmed. We slowed to a walk, and I swore.

  We could hear the sounds of laughter coming from the maintenance personnel strolling across the flight line. We could see the two SPs on the Humvees, manning the machine guns. We could see the blond cop Airman Reardon still at her post by the entry control point, standing beside the driver of the bus. And a few yards to their right, we could see Amanda with her hands on her hips, staring at a maroon car that was speeding away.

  Amanda faced Simon and me as we approached. She was still wearing the latex gloves she’d used in the search of Weller’s luggage. She gestured at the retreating car as it disappeared around a corner. “I almost had her. Ten more seconds. Then those two walking billboards—”

  “Hansen and Kelley,” I said.

  “Whatever. All I know is they drove up out of nowhere. I never saw them coming. They threw open the back door, and Weller jumped in.” She grimaced in self-recrimination.

  Airman Reardon and the bus driver were watching us. So were the two airmen mounted on the Humvees. I lowered my voice and said to Amanda, “It was my fault. I should have considered the possibility she might take off.”

  Amanda shook her head at me. “There’s more than enough blame to go around, Marty. I should have stopped her when I first spotted her. I should have realized you guys didn’t let her go.” She nodded toward Airman Reardon. “We could use her radio. Call the gate and try and get them to stop the car.”

  “Forget it,” I said. “Secretary Churchfield probably arranged this with General Morley and Major Vega.”

  “I know, but—Damn!”

  She turned away, too angry to speak. No one said anything for a long moment. Maybe it was the way the wind rippled through Amanda’s hair or the way the sun framed the soft curves of her perfect profile. Maybe it was her nearness to me, or the way she began chewing on her lower lip. For whatever reason, I found myself suddenly aware of her, thinking how beautiful she looked at that moment. As I watched her, the memory of my wife, Nicole, tugged at me, and I glanced down at the wedding ring I still wore. When I looked up, Simon was staring at me with an odd smile.

  Amanda turned to me. “Jesus, this pisses me off. Their goddamn arrogance. They think they can waltz off with our prime suspect—”

  “Colonel Weller isn’t a suspect,” Simon said.

  Amanda’s head jerked. “Sheisn’t? Why the hell did she take off?”

  Simon hesitated, aware of our audience. He leaned close and spoke into Amanda’s ear. I couldn’t hear what he said, not that it mattered.

  He was telling her that one of the generals had to be the killer.

  A two-ship of F-16 fighters roared overhead, the sun glinting on their wings. They pitched out into the traffic pattern and came in for a formation landing. After they touched down, we strolled back toward the hangar. Ahead, we could see Andy hanging on to the side door, gasping for air. He shouted to us and began coughing uncontrollably.

  “Cigarettes will kill him,” Amanda said.

  I nodded. “Not that he gives a damn.”

  “It’s unanimous. No one else does either.”

  I sighed. “Quit riding the guy, huh?”

  “Hey,” she said, “I’m just telling it like it is.”

  And she probably was. Andy had no close friends, and his only family was a grown son whom he hadn’t seen in years. His social life consisted of drinking himself into oblivion night after night at his favorite watering hole, then staggering home to his run-down apartment, which was all he could afford after three divorces. If he died, the bartender might miss his best customer, but that would be about it.

  Once we were out of earshot of Airman Reardon, Amanda said to Simon, “Tell me the rest of it.”

  So he did, speaking quickly. When he finished, Amanda slowly shook her head at him.

  “Let me see if I understand,” she said. “Colonel Weller admitted hating Garber enough to kill him—”

  “Yes.”

  “—then she takes off, practically convincing us that she must be guilty as sin—”

  “Right.”

  “—but you still don’t believe she is, because you don’t believe the secretary of defense would put her ass on the line to cover up Garber’s murder simply to protect Weller. In a nutshell, that’s the reason you’re convinced the killer has to be one of the service chiefs.”

  Simon nodded.

  They walked a few steps. “Sorry,” Amanda said. “W
e’re in a war. Churchfield’s—the government’s—only intention is to protect the military from a scandal. Any scandal.Who the killer is doesn’t really matter.”

  “It does matter,” Simon said. “If General Garber was killed by a fellow member of the Joint Chiefs, the damage to the military’s reputation would be extremely egregious. Consider the propaganda value to our enemies. They could portray the American military as being led by murderers. No, no. It matters.”

  We were coming to the bus, parked near the front of the hangar. Andy had stopped coughing and was wheezing loudly. He gave us a feeble wave.

  Amanda abruptly faced Simon. “What bugs me is that you’re giving Weller a free pass. You make it sound as if she’s only being used to decoy our suspicions from the real killer.”

  “Those men were waiting for Weller,” Simon said. “That suggests Secretary Churchfield installed them as insurance, to prevent us from taking Weller into custody. If true, that proves Weller is operating under orders from Churchfield.”

  “Listen,” Amanda said stubbornly. “All I’m saying is, there’s a chance Weller was involved in the killing. A damn good chance.” She gave him a meaningful look.

  It took Simon a moment to catch on. “Her luggage? You found something?”

  “Yeah. Had to leave it behind when I took off after Weller. If you ask me, I don’t think there’s much doubt what happened. Personally, I think Weller should get a medal for wasting the sick son of a bitch.”

  She turned and strolled quickly toward the bus.

  “Yo, Marty! Hold on!”

  I glanced over and saw Andy’s bulk staggering toward me. I pulled up to wait for him while Simon hurried after Amanda.

  Andy’s face was still a splotchy red, but his breathing was down to a survivable rasp. He asked, “What the hell was that about? Why’d Weller take off?”

  So I gave him a Cliffs Notes version of our suspicions concerning Weller and the three generals.

  “One of the chiefs?” he said. “Guess that makes sense. I mean, they hated the guy enough…” He frowned, tugging on a cheek.