Changing the subject, she asked me, "Did you ever want to be a general?"

"I'm just trying to hang on to my little warrant officer bar."

She tried to smile, but was clearly nervous. I wasn't exactly at ease, either. To break the tension, I fell back on an old Army expression. "Remember, a general puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like you do."

"I usually sit on the bed and pull my pants on both legs at once."

"Well, you know what I mean."

"Maybe we can just speak to the adjutant and leave."

"The general will be very courteous. They all are."

"I'm more nervous about meeting his wife. Maybe I should have changed."

Why do I try to figure these people out?

Cynthia said, "This will hurt his career, won't it?"

"Depends on the outcome. If we never find the killer, and no one ever finds that room, and if there's not too much dirt dragged up, he'll be all right. He gets the sympathy vote. But if it gets very messy, he'll resign."

"And that's the end of his political ambitions."

"I'm not sure he has any political ambitions."

"The papers say he does."

"That's not my problem." But, in fact, it could be. General Joseph Ian Campbell had been mentioned as a possible vice-presidential choice, and was also mentioned as a potential candidate for senator from his native state of Michigan, or as a candidate for governor of that state. Plus, his name had come up to succeed the present Army chief of staff, which meant a fourth star, or another possibility was an appointment as the president's top military advisor.

This embarrassment of riches was a direct result of General Campbell's service in the Persian Gulf War, prior to which no one had ever heard of him. As the memory of the war faded, however, so was his name fading from public consciousness. This was either a clever plan on the part of Joseph Campbell, or he honestly didn't want any part of the nonsense.

How and why Fighting Joe Campbell got assigned to this backwater that the Army called Fort Hades and the GIs called Fort Hardly, was one of those mysteries of the Pentagon that only the connivers and plotters there could explain. But I had the sudden thought that the power brokers in the Pentagon knew that General Campbell had a loose cannon rolling around the ramparts, and the loose cannon was named Ann. Was that possible?

A tall man entered, wearing the Army-green dress uniform, type A with colonel's eagles, the insignia of the Adjutant General Corps, and a name tag that said Fowler. He introduced himself as General Campbell's adjutant. In the service, when in uniform, it is redundant to introduce yourself by name and rank, but people appreciate a short job description so they can ascertain if they have to work with you or ever see you again.

We shook hands all around, and Colonel Fowler said, "Indeed, the general wishes to see you, but I want to speak to you first. Won't you have a seat?"

We all sat, and I regarded Colonel Fowler. He was a black man, and I could imagine the generations of former slaveowners who lived here spinning in their graves. Anyway, Fowler was extremely well groomed, well spoken, and carried himself with good military bearing. He seemed like the perfect adjutant, a job which is sort of like a combination of a personnel officer, senior advisor, a receiver and communicator of the general's orders, and so forth. An adjutant is not like the deputy commander, who, like the vice-president of the United States, has no real job.

Fowler had long legs, which may seem irrelevant, but an adjutant has to do the adjutants' walk, which means long strides between the general and his subordinates to relay orders and bring back reports. You're not supposed to run, so you have to develop the adjutants' walk, especially on a big parade ground where short stubby legs hold up the whole show. Anyway, Fowler was every inch the officer and the gentleman. Unlike some white officers who can get a little sloppy, like myself, the black officer, like the female officer, has something to prove. Interestingly, blacks and women still use the standards of the white officer as their ideal, though, in fact, that ideal and those standards were and are myths. But it keeps everybody on their toes, so it's fine. The Army is fifty percent illusion, anyway.

Colonel Fowler said, "You may smoke if you wish. A drink?"

"No, sir," I said.

Fowler tapped the arms of his chair for a few beats, then began. "This is certainly a tragedy for the general and Mrs. Campbell. We don't want it to become a tragedy for the Army."

"Yes, sir." The less said, the better, of course. He wanted to talk.

He continued, "Captain Campbell's death, occurring as it did on post-on this very post where her father is commander-and occurring in the manner it did, will certainly cause a sensation."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't think I have to tell either of you not to speak to the press."

"Of course not."

Fowler looked at Cynthia. "I understand you made an arrest in that other rape case. Do you think there's a connection here? Could there be two of them? Or could you have gotten the wrong man in the other case?"

"No on all counts, Colonel."

"But it is is possible. Will you look into that?" possible. Will you look into that?"

"No, Colonel. These are two different cases."

Clearly, the general's staff had met and some bright boy brought this up as a possibility, or as wishful thinking, or as the official story; i.e., there was a gang of young trainees running around, laying the pipe to unsuspecting female officers. I said to Colonel Fowler, "It doesn't wash."

He sort of shrugged and turned his attention back to me. "Well, do you have any suspects?"

"No, sir."

"Any leads?"

"Not at the moment."

"But you must have a theory or two, Mr. Brenner."

"I do, Colonel. But they are only only theories, and all of them would upset you." theories, and all of them would upset you."

He leaned forward in his chair, obviously not pleased. "I'm only upset that a female officer has been raped and murdered and that the culprit is at large. Not much else about this case is going to upset me."

Wanna bet? I said, "I've been told that the general wishes to relieve me and Ms. Sunhill from this case." I said, "I've been told that the general wishes to relieve me and Ms. Sunhill from this case."

"I believe that was his early reaction. But he's spoken to some people in Washington, and he's rethinking this. That's why he wants to meet you and Ms. Sunhill."

"I see. Sort of a job interview."

"Perhaps." He added, "Unless you don't want this case. If you don't, it will not reflect negatively in your records. In fact, a letter of commendation will be inserted into your files in recognition of your initial work on this case. And you would both be offered thirty days of administrative leave, to begin immediately." He looked from me to Cynthia, then back to me. "Then there will be no reason to see the general, and you may both leave now."

Not a bad deal if you thought about it. The idea was not to think about it. I replied, "My commanding officer, Colonel Hellmann, has assigned me and Ms. Sunhill to this case, and we have accepted the assignment. This is a closed issue, Colonel."

He nodded. I couldn't quite get a handle on Fowler. Behind the stiff facade of the adjutant was a very facile operator. He had to be in order to survive this job, which by almost any military standards sucked. But you'd never become a general until you'd served on a general's staff, and clearly, Colonel Fowler was only a hop, skip, and a jump away from his first Silver Star.

Fowler seemed deep in thought, and there was a silence in the room. I, having said my piece, now had to wait for his reply. Higher-ranking officers had this unsettling habit of letting long silences pass, and the unwise junior officer would sometimes charge into the breach with an afterthought, then get clobbered with an icy stare or a reprimand. It was sort of like a trap play in football, or in war, and, although I didn't know Colonel Fowler very well, I knew the type too well. The man was testing me, testing my nerve and resolve, perhaps to see if he was dealing with an overly enthusiastic asshole or someone as shrewd as himself. Cynthia, to her credit, let the silence drag on, too.

Finally, he said to me, "I know why Ms. Sunhill is here at Fort Hadley. But what brings a special unit CID investigator to our little outpost?"

"I was on undercover assignment. One of your armory NCOs was about to go into business for himself. You ought to tighten security at the armory, and you should know that I've saved you some embarrassment." I added, "I'm sure the provost briefed you."

"In fact, he did. Some weeks ago when you got here."

"So you knew I was here."

"Yes, but not why why you were here." you were here."

"Why do you suppose Colonel Kent asked me to take this case in light of the fact that no one else here wants me to take it?"

He thought a moment, then replied, "To be honest with you, Colonel Kent is not fond of the local CID commander, Major Bowes. In any case, your people at Falls Church would have put you on it immediately. Colonel Kent did what he thought was best for everyone."

"Including Colonel Kent. What is the problem between Colonel Kent and Major Bowes?"

He shrugged. "Probably just jurisdictional. Turf."

"Not personal?"

"I don't know. Ask them."

"I will." In the meantime, I asked Colonel Fowler, "Did you know Captain Campbell personally?"

He looked at me a moment, then replied, "Yes. In fact, the general has asked me to give the eulogy at her funeral."

"I see. Were you with General Campbell prior to this assignment?"

"Yes, I've been with General Campbell since he was an armored division commander in Germany. We served together in the Gulf, then here."

"Did he request this assignment?"

"I don't think that's relevant."

"I assume you knew Ann Campbell before Fort Hadley?"

"Yes."

"Could you give me an idea of the nature of your relationship?" How was that for smooth?

Fowler leaned forward in his chair and looked me in the eyes. "Excuse me, Mr. Brenner. Is this an interrogation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'll be damned."

"I hope not, Colonel."

He laughed, then stood. "Well, you both come to my office tomorrow and you can fire away. Call for an appointment. Follow me, please."

We followed Colonel Fowler back into the central foyer, then toward the rear of the mansion, where we came to a closed door. Colonel Fowler said to us, "No need to salute, quick condolences, you'll be asked to take a seat. Mrs. Campbell will not be present. She's under sedation. Please keep this short. Five minutes." He knocked on the door, opened it, and stepped inside, announcing us as Warrant Officers Brenner and Sunhill of the CID. Sounded like a TV series.

Cynthia and I followed and found ourselves in a sort of den of highly polished wood, leather, and brass. The room was dark, the drapes drawn, and the only light came from a green-shaded desk lamp. Behind the desk stood Lieutenant General Joseph Campbell, in a dress-green uniform with a chest full of medals. The first thing you noticed about him was that he was huge, not only tall but big-boned, like the Scottish clan chiefs from which he must have descended, and on this occasion I also noticed the unmistakable smell of Scotch whisky in the room.

General Campbell extended his hand to Cynthia, who took it and said to him, "My deepest condolences, sir."

"Thank you."

I took his hand, which was huge, passed on my condolences, and added, "I'm very sorry to have to bother you at a time like this," as though this meeting had been my idea.

"Not at all." He sat and said, "Please be seated."

We sat in leather chairs facing his desk. I regarded his face in the shaded light. He had a full head of blondish-gray hair, bright blue eyes, craggy features, and a good jaw with a cleft chin. A handsome man, but aside from the eyes, Ann Campbell's beauty must have come from her mother.

With a general, one never speaks until spoken to, but the general wasn't speaking. He stared off, between Cynthia and me, at some point behind us. He nodded, I suppose to Fowler, and I heard the door close behind us, as Colonel Fowler departed.

General Campbell now looked at Cynthia, then at me, and addressed us both in a quiet voice, which I knew, from radio and television, was not his normal speaking voice. He said, "I take it that you two wish to remain on this assignment."

We both nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

He looked at me. "Can I convince you that everyone would be better served if you turn this matter over to Major Bowes here at Fort Hadley?"

"I'm sorry, General," I responded. "This matter transcends Fort Hadley and transcends your personal grief. None of us can change that."

General Campbell nodded. "Then I will give you my full cooperation and promise you the cooperation of everyone here."

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you have any idea who could have done this?"

"No, sir." Do you? Do you?

"Do I have both your assurances that you will work quickly and that you will work with us to minimize the sensational aspects of this incident and that you will do more good than harm here?"

I replied, "I assure you that our only objective is to make an arrest as soon as possible."

Cynthia added, "We have taken steps, General, from the very beginning to minimize outside involvement. We have transported the entire contents of Captain Campbell's home to this post. Chief of Police Yardley seems upset about that, and I suspect he will contact you in that regard. If you would be so kind as to tell him you authorized this before it happened, we would be very appreciative. Regarding minimizing sensationalism and harm to the post and the Army, a word from you to Chief Yardley would go a long way in achieving that goal."

General Campbell looked at Cynthia for a few long seconds. Undoubtedly, he could not look at a young, attractive woman of that age without thinking of his daughter. What What he was thinking of his daughter is what I didn't know. He said to Cynthia, "Consider it done." he was thinking of his daughter is what I didn't know. He said to Cynthia, "Consider it done."

"Thank you, General."

I said, "It is my understanding, General, that you were supposed to see your daughter this morning after she got off duty."

He replied, "Yes... we were to have breakfast. When she didn't arrive, I called Colonel Fowler at headquarters, but he said she wasn't there. I believe he called her home."

"About what time was that, sir?"

"I'm not certain. She was due at my house at 0700. I probably called headquarters at about 0730."

I didn't pursue this but said to him, "General, we appreciate your offer of full cooperation and will take you up on it. At your first available opportunity, I'd like to conduct a more detailed interview with you, and with Mrs. Campbell. Perhaps tomorrow."

"I'm afraid we have to make funeral arrangements tomorrow and attend to other personal business. The day after the funeral may be convenient."