Sweepers

by P. T. Deutermann

  “Professionally good enough to get that first job as a detailer, and politically good enough to get another one. I wonder who his patron saint was.”

  “He was executive assistant to Admiral Galen Schmidt,” Mccarty said.

  “Just before Admiral Schmidt’s ticker trouble forced him to retire.”

  Carpenter nodded. “Schmidt would have made a great CNO,” he said. “And young Sherman would not be coming to see me if Schmidt were the CNO today. Okay, he’s something of a pretty boy, and I distrust pretty boys.

  Jealousy, I suppose. Bring him in, please.”

  Mccarty smiled and left the room, returning a few seconds later with the officer in the picture.

  “Sorry about the delay, Admiral,” Carpenter said in a formal tone. “The Deputy Secnav called precisely at seventeen-thirty.” It was a small lie, but he expected Sherman to be adept enough to swallow it.

  “No problem, Admiral,” Sherman replied.

  “Thank you, Dan,” Carpenter said to his executive assistant, who nodded and left the room. “Admiral Sherman, it’s a pleasure to see you again, especially as a flag officer.

  Congratulations” Carpenter smiled as he said it, but he watched to see if the younger officer understood that the JAG was reminding him who was the senior officer in the room.

  “Thank you, sir,” Sherman replied. “Even after a year, I’m still getting used to it.”

  “I’ll bet you are. Please sit down.”

  When Sherman had taken one of the chairs in front of the desk, Carpenter walked him through the morning’s visit from the police.

  “I’m sure Dan told you that this concerns the Fairfax County Police. I had a visit today from a homicide detective.

  They are investigating an apparent accident that involved a woman having a fall in her town house in Reston.”

  “In Reston?” Sherman asked quickly.

  Carpenter saw a look of alarm cross Sherman’s face. He leaned forward before Sherman could say anything.

  “The woman died of her injuries. An Elizabeth Walsh.”

  He stopped when he saw the alarm in Sherman’s face change to shock. “You didn’t know about this? Was she someone close?”

  The color was draining out of Sherman’s face. He appeared to struggle for words.

  “I-yes. I didn’t know anything had happened,” he stammered. “I-we-we used to date. I’ve known her for three years or so. When did this happen?”

  Admiral Carpenter suddenly felt as if he had been caught off base.

  Automatically, he looked around for his executive assistant, then shook his head. “This apparently happened three days ago. Friday night. The homicide cop showed up here this morning. They’re investigating her death. I guess because she died by misadventure-you know, as opposed to dying in a hospital with a doctor present. I think the cops are called anytime there’s an unexplained death,”

  “But what-“

  Carpenter felt genuinely embarrassed now. He should have thought of this-that no one had told this guy. McCarty should have checked. “He said that there was no direct evidence of foul play. But they pulled the usual strings, and they found out that she had a life-insurance policy, a pretty big one. And apparently you’re the beneficiary.”

  “Me? Life insurance? Elizabeth?” Sherman was shaking his head. “So I’m a suspect of some kind? In-a murder case?”

  “No, no, no,” Carpenter said waving his hand. “That’s why they came to see me first. There is no murder case.

  There’s apparently no evidence, of foul play. I think they just want to talk to you.” Sherman was obviously in a state of emotional shock.

  “Look, you-want a glass of water or something? Coffee? A drink maybe?” Sherman was still shaking his head, his eyes unfocused.

  “No thank you, sir. I saw her-what, three weeks ago. I can’t believe this.”

  “Yes. Damn. I am very sorry. I just assumed … well, I don’t know what I was thinking. But back to the cops. You know how they are-they go with what they’ve got. They have to investigate. You’re apparently the only human tied in some fashion, however indirect, to her death, so they want to talk to you. “

  “But what-“

  Carpenter interrupted him again. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I think they’re just running down their standard procedure checklist. And the guy who came to see me said they disagreed among themselves if it even was a homicide.”

  Sherman got up, then sat down again, his hands flailing a little bit, as if he still couldn’t grasp it. “Elizabeth and I dated for nearly three years,” he said. “I’m divorced, you know. Well, hell, of course you don’t know.”

  Carpenter nodded encouragingly. He felt like a clod for just dropping the bomb on this poor guy.

  “But we saw each other in a pretty meaningful way until about six months ago. We-she-finally realized that our relationship wasn’t going where she wanted it to go. She’s a bright, attractive woman. She wanted to get married.”

  “Ah. And you did not, I take it.”

  “Right, sir. First time around cured me of that. And that’s something I had told her from the very start. Anyway, we agreed to part company.

  Only fair thing to do, the way I saw it. But we missed each other. From time to time, we got together. We did well together. But the long-term relationship essentially was over. Now we’re just good friends, as they say. And I knew nothing about any insurance policy.

  Carpenter waited.

  “I mean, I guess we were just good friends. Hell, this is terrible.” He put his hands up to his face and rubbed his cheeks.

  Carpenter got up and went over to the window, giving Sherman a minute to compose himself Then he came back and sat down.

  “What he wanted to do is to meet with you,” he said.

  “Informally. I told him I would arrange it, but only if I could be present. I also told him I would shut the meeting off if it started to look like anything but a friendly chat. I recommend you agree to this, and that we do it soon, like tomorrow. You understand that they don’t have to do it this way, right? They could just call you downtown or wherever the cops are headquartered in Fairfax County. But I think they’re actually trying to be discreet. Since you’re a flag officer, that is.”

  Sherman nodded, although it was obvious that his thoughts were spiraling elsewhere.

  “So why don’t I have my office coordinate with your office on the calendars, and then we’ll get this over and done with, okay?”

  “Yes, of course,” Sherman said. “And I appreciate your intervention, Admiral.”

  Carpenter nodded and stood up. Sherman remained seated until he realized the meeting was over. He stood up as well.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Admiral,” Carpenter said. “And I apologize for just dropping a bomb Re that.” Sherman nodded but said nothing as he left.

  Carpenter scanned Sherman’s bio again while he waited for Sherman to get clear of his outer office. Something about the Vietnam assignment had ticked his memory, but he could not quite put his finger on it. He buzzed for Mccarty, who came in with his ever-present notebook at the ready.

  “Dan, get back to that cop and set up a meeting for tomorrow. Coordinate with Sherman’s office. Plan for thirty minutes maximum. He and the woman were close, by the way. He didn’t know anything about this.’Took the wind right out of his sails.”

  “He knew her and didn’t know the woman had died?

  Damn. I guess I should have checked.”

  Carpenter was silent just long enough to let his EA know that he agreed with that observation. “Yeah, well, those things happen,” he said finally. “He agreeing -away to talk to the cops. Didn’t seem to care about them, or the insurance business. More upset at what had happened to the woman. Said he was divorced and that they’d been dating for a couple of years and then broke it off, friendly like.”

  Carpenter stood and gathered up his cap and briefcase.. “Let me get my hat and I’ll walk down the hall with you,”
Mccarty said. “I assume you’re going to handle this one personally?”

  That mental twitch about the bio bothered Carpenter.

  “Yes, I think so. For now, anyway.”

  “Yes, sir. Have you briefed the CNO on this issue?”

  They walked through the outer office and into the corridor before Carpenter, not wanting to talk about this in front of the staff yeomen, replied. “No. Not yet. I want to see how this meeting develops. If it’s a firefly, the CNO doesn’t need to be bothered. If there’s something to it, we’ll need more facts before I approach the throne. Which reminds me. I’d like to have one of our staff attorneys present. Just in case that cop wasn’t telling the whole truth about the purpose of this little sdance. Like if it turns out Sherman needs a lawyer. I’d like to have someone there who can be in on it from the git-go.”

  Mccarty had his notebook out again. “Somebody who could defend him? Or someone who will hold his hand and keep us in the loop at the same time?”

  Carpenter smiled the way he did when his aides read his thoughts with such facility. “The latter,” he said. “And somebody who is perhaps underemployed at the moment.”

  Mccarty smiled. “Oh-ho. A certain lady commander perhaps,” he said as they went down the stairs to the second floor.

  “As always, you’re way ahead of me, Dan,” Carpenter said, laughing now.

  Even the normally taciturn Mccarty managed a brief smile before he remembered something else. “Oh, Admiral, one last scheduling matter for tomorrow. Warren Beasely’s relief has reported-from NIS Carpenter stopped as they reached the second-floor landing leading into the A-ring. “This the guy we heard about?

  Von something?”

  “Yes, sir. A civilian named von Rensel. Wait till you see this guy. He’s huge.”

  “He’s not a fat guy, is he?”

  “No, sir. Just big. Not tall, either. But really big. He scared Chief O’Brien when he showed up this morning.

  Didn’t say anything, just stood there at the chief’s desk until she turned around. I thought O’Brien was gonna faint.”

  “Beasely was such a damn wimp,” Carpenter said. “This guy look like a player?”

  “Yes, sir, I’d definitely say so. And in all fairness, Beasely was not a well man.”

  Yeah, I know, but the net result was that I couldn’t use him the way I wanted to. Okay. Put this von Rensel on my calendar. And get the word to the lady commander, as you call her.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll put in a call this evening. I’m assuming you just want her there to observe the meeting?”

  Mccarty asked. “Karen Lawrence is an investigations specialist, not an investigator.” Carpenter gave his EA a sideways look, inspiring Mccarty to backpedal a bit.

  “I mean, I know she’s very good at what she does,” he added hastily.

  “But her specialty is reviewing other people’s work, not doing investigations herself. Unless-“

  “Unless I can get her interested in something long enough for her to pull her damn request for retirement papers,” Carpenter said.

  Mccarty shook his head at that prospect. Comdr. Karen Lawrence was an expert lawyer who reviewed Navy field investigation reports to see if they had been conducted thoroughly, properly, and effectively. She was very, very good at it, having that rare ability to sense from the field reports when an investigation had missed something crucial, either because the field investigator was less than competent or because local command authorities were trying to hide something. The problem was that her husband, a wealthy Washington lobbyist, had died very unexpectedly of a heart attack about a year ago. Thereafter, she had simply lost interest in what had been shaping up as a brilliant career in the JAG Corps. Four months ago, she had put her papers in to take retirement on twenty. Admiral Carpenter wanted very much to change her mind about getting out, but he had had no luck at all in persuading her.

  “I mean, I understand what she’s probably going through,” Carpenter said. “But as the JAG, I have to take the Navy’s point of view, not hers. With all these sexual harassment cases and the even bigger problem of female integration, I need to keep any lady lawyer who’s as sharp as she is. “

  “Yes, sir, I understand. I’m just not too optimistic this will do it. If there is a homicide investigation, she’d be out of her competence.”

  “Well,” Carpenter said as they reached the Mall entrance, “maybe put the new NIS guy into it. If it’s out of his competence, then send him back and tell them to try again.

  TUESDAY Comdr. Karen Lawrence arrived in her office at eight o’clock, thirty minutes later than everyone else. She had come in early to work out at the Pentagon Officers Athletic Club before work. Since Frank’s death, she had felt the need to get Out of the house’early in the morning, and the 7:00 A.m. athletic-club session offered a good excuse, not to mention the advantage of lighter traffic. But most important, it got her through that emotionally treacherous morning hour when they used to prepare for work together. Together was a nonword these days, and having to live alone again was unexpectedly painful.

  The Investigations Review Division of Navy JAG was on the D-ring of the fourth floor of the Pentagon. The office was typical of the Pentagon these days: An office suite designed to hold three officers in 1945 now held eight in a warren of modular furniture enclosed in crumbling ten-foot high plastered walls. Each staff legal officer had approximately an eight-foot-square cubicle. The division boss, Captain Pennington, had a slightly larger cubicle in one corner, under the only window.

  Karen said good morning to the staff yeoman and fixed a cup of coffee.

  The yeoman waved a telephone message slip at her as she reached her cubicle. “Presence is’re quested, Commander,” she called.

  Karen walked back over to pick up the slip, then returned to her cubicle. She flopped down at her desk, patting a damp lock of her dark red hair back into place, and scanned the message: “See Captain Mccarty when you come in.”

  Great. No subject, no hint of what he wanted. She looked up as Captain Pennington stuck his head in.

  “Good morning, Karen. I hear the EA wants to see you.”

  Word travels fast, she thought. “Yes, sir. Good morning.

  Any idea on what it’s about?”

  “Nope. It was on the office voice mail, six-thirty last night. I told them you hit the athletic club first thing in the so you’re not late or anything.” He looked at his watch. “As long as you’re up there in about the next five minutes.”

  “Appreciate that, Captain,” ‘she said. She hesitated. “I hope this isn’t another, shipping-over lecture.”

  “I don’t think so, Karen,” he said. “Although the offer is absolutely still open.” They looked at each other for a moment, and then he raised his hands in mock surrender.

  “Okay, okay, I know. We’ve been down this road. Better go see the EA.”

  She smiled briefly at him to show that she wasn’t angry.

  Pennington had been a peach of a boss for the past two years, and she knew he was sincere in wanting her to pull those retirement papers. But she had made up her mind. She would reach the magic twenty-year point in six more months. She had taken the emotional plunge a month after Frank died, then waited a little while longer to put her papers in’ Nothing had happened in the interim to change her conviction that it was time to go. Her professional career drive had just evaporated after Frank’s heart attack, especially considering the circumstances surrounding that event.

  She was determined not to be a hanger-on, just for the sake of keeping busy or for the chance to put another gold ring on her sleeve. In the Judge Advocate General Corps, reaching commander signified a successful career; making captain meant an unusually gogd career. She was ready to settle for success.

  Notebook in hand, Karen headed for Admiral Carpenter’s office up on the fifth floor. When she arrived, she found that she was not the only visitor to the front office. There was a civilian who looked like a cop sitting on the couch. Anoth
er civilian, a very large man, was standing by one of the windows, his back to the room. A youngish-looking one-star rear admiral was sitting in the single armchair. He gave her a fleeting glance of appraisal when she came in but then went back to a folder he had been studying.

  The presence of the two civilians puzzled her, unless they were Naval Investigative Service types. But they looked like real civilians, and they were too well dressed to be NIS. The big man was huge, tree-trunk huge. She wondered if he was Warren Beasely’s relief from the Naval Investigative Service. She had heard some scuttlebutt that they were sending over a real character. The other guy looked like a cop. She walked across the front office and knocked on the EA’s open door.

  “Come in, Karen,” Mccarty said, indicating with his hand that she should close the door behind her.

  “Good morning, sir.,” she replied.

  “Right, it probably is. You see that one-star out there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s Rear Adm. W. T. Sherman. OP-32: director of the Surface Warfare Requirements Division down in OP-03.

  Last year’s flag-selection list. The civilian on the couch is a Fairfax County detective. Homicide cop, ‘no less.” He watched for her reaction.

  Homicide cop?” she said, pleased with herself for picking him out as a policeman. “Somebody shoot somebody?”

  “Not quite,” Mccarty said. “At least we don’t think so.

  But that guy came in to see the JAG yesterday. He asked for a sitdown with this Admiral Sherman. The JAG wants you in there as the duty fly on the wall. I won’t say any more, so as not to influence what you see and hear. You’ll be introduced as a headquarters staff attorney, okay?”

  This was vintage . Carpenter, she thought, nodding. Whenever something out of the ordinary popped up, the JAG would bring in a neutral observer from the staff. When the meeting was over, the staffer, who was never told what -the meeting was supposed to be about, would be asked for his or her take on things. “Got it, Captain,” she replied with a smile. 7 “And who’s the Mack truck out there?”