Andy threw back his hand and kept going.
“Andy!”
He whirled around. “Listen, either you arrest me, or you can kiss my—”
He broke off, frowning at what Simon was holding in his hand. It was one of those small recorders, the kind used for dictation.
“I’m truly sorry, Andy,” Simon said.
He pressedplay.
• • •
A soft hiss.
Abruptly, Paul Carter’s anguished voice came on, talking about his new baby and how he didn’t want to go to jail.
Then Simon, telling him to start at the beginning and leave nothing out.
I was watching Andy. Almost immediately, his facade of denial started to crumble, then fell away completely. His shoulders sagged, and his head dropped. He suddenly looked tired and old and vulnerable. He stared down at the floor and shook his head as he accepted the inevitable.
It was over.
Amanda went over and led Andy back to the bar. He didn’t resist. By the time he sat down, Paul was telling us what happened.
“Fuck,” Andy said.
Paul spoke slowly and deliberately, as if aware of the consequences of what he was saying. “Tommy and I got a call from Andy in our room. It was late, around 2330 hours, after the dinner with the Brits at the officers’ mess. The generals were in their quarters, getting ready for the trip home. Andy was watching General Garber, and he told us to get over to Garber’s room ASAP. That something had happened. When we got there, we found Garber slumped on the couch. He was dead. The other generals were already there. Markel, Sessler, and Garber. And Andy. No one else.
“General Markel did all the talking. He told us there’d been an accident. He said General Garber was drunk and had stumbled, crushed his throat against the edge of the coffee table. You know, like the way we tried to make it look on the plane. I remember no one seemed panicked. Everyone was real cool, like they knew exactly what they were going to do. Markel gave this little speech about how humiliating it would be for America to have its top soldier die because he’d gotten drunk. So he told us—ordered us—to put Garber’s body in his compartment on the plane. He said it would be better, you know, politically.
“Hell, I knew the way he was saying General Garber had died couldn’t be true. I’ve been a cop long enough to know a guy doesn’t suffocate that quick. Not before he could get help. Plus Andy was with him. The other generals’ rooms were right down the hall. They would have heard Garber if he—”
At this point Carter’s voice rose slightly. “What could I do, Lieutenant? Shit, I’m a warrant officer, and here’s a four-star general—threefour-star generals—ordering me to move the body. So I fucking moved the body. Tommy, Andy, and me. It turned out it wasn’t any big deal, getting Garber out of there. His suite was on the ground floor and had a private entrance through this little garden. Andy made sure the coast was clear, and Tommy and I each stuck our head under Garber’s arms and carried him to the car like he’d passed out. Anyone one who saw us would have believed that. Garber had hit the booze hard at the dinner. Like he always did.
“We put General Garber into the staff car, drove out to the plane. It was close to midnight by then, and there weren’t many people around. Our main concern were the security cops guarding the plane, but Andy took care of them. He kept them back so they wouldn’t get a good look and gave them the story about the general being drunk. They bought it. They knew his reputation. They’d seen him drunk on the plane. We hid Garber in the closet of the compartment. Wedged him in—”
At this, Simon shot me a look. This explained the black heel marks we’d found in the compartment.
Carter continued, “Andy said he didn’t need Tommy and me anymore, so we went to our seats up front. Later, the generals showed up, and everyone had a meeting in the compartment. What went on, Tommy and I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that Andy came by later and told us they’d arranged Garber’s death to look the same as back in his room. He said it would be more believable that way. You know, because that’s what really happened. Andy also told us what we were going to do when we landed. How we were supposed to find the body and go through the motions of conducting an accidental death inquiry.
“That’s what we were doing when General Markel came in and told us that General Garber’s father was pushing for a murder investigation. It got really tense for a while. I mean,tense . Andy and the generals had this big discussion on what the hell they were going to do now. They knew a finding of accidental death would never stand up, but they also decided they couldn’t, wouldn’t frame anybody. I guess that was when Tommy and I finally realized the truth. If Garber had died accidentally, the generals would have said so, right? I mean, why hide that fact now? Why even talk about framing somebody?
“Anyway, the generals figured they’d be logical suspects because of the bad blood between them and General Garber. They didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing. I mean, you couldn’t go after them all, right? General Sessler also suggested they should give you someplace else to look. Confuse you. That’s why we hid the booze bottle and the glasses in the trash. Make you think a woman might have killed him when she really couldn’t. I mean, a woman would never be strong enough to kill General Garber. Not like that.
“That’s pretty much all I know, Lieutenant. You were there for the rest of it. I only did it because I was ordered to. Same with Tommy. Probably Andy, too. I like Andy. He’s not the jerk a lot of people think.” Carter’s voice grew quiet, apologetic. “When you see him, tell him I’m sorry. But I’ve got my wife and kid to think about. Tell him I hope he understands. Tell him for me. Christ, I’m sorry.”
He fell silent. The taped hissed.
We looked at Andy. He was smoking a cigarette, his face the picture of dejection.
On the tape, Simon asked, “Who planted the condom and the shirt buttons, Paul?”
“Andy said that Weller must have done it. He told us you’d found the buttons, which came from a shirt that you’d found in her bag. None of us knew why she’d do something so crazy. But she did. Go figure.”
“So that had never been part of the cover-up?”
“Hell, no. I told you the plan wasn’t to frame anyone.”
“Whose lipstick was used to mark the glass?”
“I don’t know. Andy handled that. Got it from someone on the plane. He threw the container away later.”
“Do you know or suspect who killed General Garber?”
“No.”
“So you never heard or saw anything that might suggest who the killer was?”
There was no reply.
“Paul?”
“I was in the compartment. The generals were talking. It was right after they were told you were coming on the case. They were worried because of your reputation.”
“What did you hear, Paul?”
“General Markel. He was talking to General Sessler and General Garber. Look, maybe I shouldn’t say anything. I couldn’t swear they were discussing the killing. They could have been talking about anything.”
“What did Markel say?” Simon pressed.
A long silence. Then, almost in a whisper: “‘Me.’ Markel said, ‘Remember, tell them it was me.’”
“That’s a goddamn lie.”
This came from Andy, who’d sprang from his stool and was staring at us with wild eyes. He shouted, “Paul Carter is lying. General Markel never killed—”
Andy never finished his statement, because he was interrupted by a soft tinkling sound. Like the sound of glass breaking.
Then his forehead exploded in a mist of red.
40
Something wet hit my face. I watched in horror as Andy’s body slid down the front of the bar. “Down!” Amanda screamed. “Get down!”
I was already dropping to the floor. She fell on top of me, and I could feel her breath hot against my face. We heard another brittle crackling sound, and something thumped hard against the bar. Simon lay prone to u
s, shouting, “Can you see him? Can you see him?”
Amanda rolled off me, fumbling for her gun. As I jerked mine free, I frantically looked out the window. “There’s a car—”
Wood splintered inches above our heads. We couldn’t hear the gunshots. The silence heightened the terror. We had no warning when the bullets would—
More splintering wood. Amanda swore savagely. I raised my weapon, tried to aim. We heard a squeal of tires.
I sagged back, panting like I’d run a race. I looked at Andy. He was sitting like a rag doll, his back propped up against the bar, his head slumped forward. Portions of his scalp were gone, and I could see pulverized bone and brain matter. I turned away, sickened.
From behind, we heard Enrique call out, “What happened? What’s going on?”
Simon ordered, “Stay there. Don’t come out until we’re sure.”
“Sure of what?”
Amanda was crawling forward, keeping behind the door to shield herself. I went after her, kissing the floor. We stood together and peered around the edge of the window.
Cars. A lot of cars.
But the one I had seen was gone.
To be certain, we watched for a full minute. People casually strolled up the sidewalk. A woman pushing a baby carriage window-shopped across the street. No one appeared alarmed in any way, since the shooter had used a silenced gun.
“He’s gone,” I said finally.
Amanda went over to Simon and helped him to his feet. Enrique came out through the swinging doors, the bartender Doris behind him. I said, “Enrique, don’t let her see—”
But it was too late. Doris was already past him, walking around the bar. She took one look at Andy and let out a piercing scream. Amanda took her hand and tried to comfort her, but Doris just stood there screaming. Enrique finally led her away as she sobbed.
Amanda handed me a bar napkin and pointed to my face. I wiped it and inspected the napkin. Tiny red streaks; Andy’s blood. My stomach lurched, and I hurried over to the washbasin behind the bar.
When I returned, Amanda and Simon were standing over Andy. Simon removed his rosary beads and said a prayer. Afterward, I was surprised to see Amanda’s eyes moist. She turned to me and I heard the emotion in her voice. “All those things I said about him. If I’d known what he was really like. I mean what he did for Doris…helping her…” She bit her lip.
It was an impulse. She was feeling guilty, and I wanted to reassure her. I placed my hand gently on her shoulder—
She immediately tensed at my touch. Our eyes met. She said quietly, “I’m fine, Marty.”
I got the message. In light of our understanding, she considered the gesture inappropriate. As I lowered my hand, I realized it had already begun. She was pulling back from me.
An awkward silence followed. I looked at Simon. He shook his head.
Amanda’s eyes again drifted down to Andy. “He was trying to cover for them, and they killed him. It’s not right.” She glanced up, her eyes turning cold. “Until now, I wasn’t sure. But this changes everything. I want the bastard who did this.”
I nodded; I felt the same way. This was personal now.
As we stepped away from the body, Simon asked me if I could identify the shooter, and I had to tell him no—I’d only caught a glimpse. There appeared to be one person in the car. I had the impression that he was a white male. His vehicle I was more certain about. I described it as a blue Lincoln or a possibly a Caddy. A mid-nineties model, with a boxy frame.
Amanda pointed to the starred holes in the window. “Fairly large-caliber rounds. Be hard to drive and fire a rifle, so he probably used a silenced handgun. Figure he was forty to fifty feet away, shooting into dim light. Not an easy shot.” She gave me a knowing look. “I’d say that nails it down to one of two guys.”
I was already taking out my cell phone to find out which one.
I tried the most likely first.
The Pentagon operator gave me Stefanski’s office number. When I called it, a navy commander told me Stefanski wasn’t in. No, he didn’t know when he’d return. And no, he didn’t expect him back today.
I immediately phoned General Markel’s office.
“He’s unavailable, Agent Collins,” his executive officer, Brigadier General Clay, said.
“Make him available, General.”
“Now see here—”
Maybe it was my frustration over the case or the anger I felt over Andy’s death. Maybe it was the fact that after going toe-to-toe with three four-stars, a one-star didn’t intimidate me. Whatever the reason, I lit into Clay, snarling, “General, you tell General Markel that his boy Stefanski just blew away a military investigator. You tell Markel that I’m holding him personally responsible for the murder. You tell Markel I’m coming after him.”
“My God.Are you certain that—”
“Damn fucking right, General.”
A pause. When he spoke, Clay was clearly rattled. “General Markel. I…he’s meeting with Secretary Churchfield. I’ll put you through.”
Elevator music. I grimaced at Simon and Amanda. Simon’s cellular rang. He answered it, and judging by his reaction, Amanda and I could tell bad-news floodgates were still wide open. He tensed. “When did it happen?” Then later: “Where is she now? All right.”
Simon disconnected with a grim head shake.
“What is it?” Amanda asked. “What happened?”
In my ear, I heard Markel’s furious voice demand, “What the hell is this, Collins? What kind of crap are you trying to—”
Simon came over to me. “Let me talk to Markel.”
I cupped the mouthpiece. “No. I want to do this. Andy was my friend. I want this bastard to know—”
“That was Jeff Zimmer, Martin. Someone tried to kill Mrs. Garber.”
Amanda inhaled sharply. “Jesus.”
Simon held out his hand to me.
I passed him the phone.
I knew Simon had to be as angry as I was, but he never raised his voice while speaking to General Markel. In a businesslike manner, Simon first described Andy’s shooting, then shifted to the attempt on Mrs. Garber. The details on the latter were sketchy.
Roughly an hour earlier, someone had fired a shot through Mrs. Garber’s bedroom window from a building across the street. Mrs. Garber wasn’t struck, but she understandably went into hysterics. Simon said to Markel, “Mrs. Garber was taken to the hospital and is being treated for shock. No one saw who fired the shot, but I think we both know it had to be Colonel Stefanski. Do you know what kind of car he drives?” He nodded at the response. “That matches the description of the vehicle we saw. Now, do you know where he is? I understand, General—” Simon paused, listening. “All right. Call him. Yes, that’s amenable to me. I’ll hold.”
When Simon covered the phone, I said, “An hour? The attempt on Mrs. Garber took place over an hour ago, and Jeff Zimmer only told you about it now?”
“Jeff has been testifying in a trial. He learned of the attempt when he checked his messages.” He flashed a hard smile. “General Markel is insisting he had nothing to do with either attack. That Stefanski was acting completely on his own.”
“Like hell,” I grunted.
“What I don’t get,” Amanda said, her brow furrowing, “is how Stefanski managed to pull offboth shootings.”
I said, “An hour is plenty of time to drive here from Mrs. Garber’s apartment in D.C.”
“I know that,” she said. “But if we assume Stefanski was the person Andy called—”
“Right,” I said, seeing the problem now. “You’re wondering how he got here so fast.”
“Yeah. I figure Andy called him no more than twenty minutes ago. Unless Stefanski was in the area already, he couldn’t make it here that quickly. Not in rush hour.”
We all thought for a moment. One obvious explanation came to mind.
After voicing it, Amanda hurried off to ask the bartender Doris if Andy had planned on meeting Stefanski here.
; Simon resumed his conversation with General Markel. From what I overheard, it sounded as if the general had arranged a meeting with Stefanski. When Simon hung up, he said, “Markel appears to be cooperating. He confirmed Stefanski owns a blue Lincoln Town Car. General Markel also told Stefanski to come to his office at seven this evening.”
It took me a moment. “He’s going to gift-wrap him for us?”
“Apparently.”
I recovered from my surprise and eyed Simon skeptically. “You do realize Markel’s probably stalling us. He can’t afford to have Stefanski talk. He’s trying to give Stefanski a chance to get away.”
Simon nodded. I wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t considered.
Amanda reappeared from behind the bar and came over. “It was Stefanski. He was a bar regular. Get this. Doris said Andy and that bastard were friends.”
I felt a tightening in my chest. I knew it was hate.
Simon began punching in a number. I assumed he was going to report the murder and issue an APB on Stefanski’s car. Instead, he called Senator Garber and informed him of what had happened and what we were about to do. The plan Simon laid out was fairly comprehensive. Even though he didn’t believe Stefanski was going to show for the meeting with Markel, he couldn’t discount the possibility. Simon said, “Senator, we’ll need you to ensure that the Pentagon police cooperate. Yes, sir. Mr. Stefanski works directly for General Markel. Yes, I agree it appears as if General Markel was responsible for your son’s death. No. Don’t say anything to the president yet. I’m still working on building a case. I understand, sir. We have only two hours. Have you spoken with the president about extending the time? I see. I’ll do what I can, Senator. Good-bye.”
Amanda and I were frowning at him as he ended the call. She said, “Itappears Markel is responsible?”
Simon deflected her implication with a shrug. “We needed Andy. Without him, we still have no proof Markel killed General Garber.”
There was a delayed reaction by Amanda and me. I said, “No proof? What about—”
And then Amanda went off on Simon. She stepped so close to him that she was practically spitting in his face. “Are you serious? Weknow Markel organized the coverup. Weknow he told the CID team to move the body. Weknow he was behind the attempt on Mrs. Garber—”
A Long Day for Dying Page 28