‘Who?’
‘Suppose you’re a rich guy travelling with your mistress. You
spend one night apart, you have to tell her something. And if
you tell her you’re dropping in on your wife purely to keep up
appearances, she has to buy it. Maybe she doesn’t like it, but
she has to buy it. Because it’s expected, occasionally. It’s all
part of the deal.’
‘Kramer didn’t have a mistress. He was gay.’
‘He had Marshall.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘No way.’
I nodded. ‘Kramer was two-timing Marshall. Marshall was his
main squeeze. They were in a relationship. Marshall wasn’t an
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intelligence officer but Kramer appointed him one anyway
to keep him close. They were an item. But Kramer had a
wandering eye. He met Carbone somewhere and started seeing
him on the side. So on New Year’s Eve Kramer told Marshall
he was going to see his wife and Marshall believed him. Like
the rich guy’s mistress would. That’s why Marshall went to
Green Valley. In his heart he knew for sure Kramer had gone
there. He was the one person in the world who felt he would know for sure. It was him who told Vassell and Coomer where
Kramer was. But Kramer was lying to him. Like people do, in
relationships.’
Summer was quiet for a long moment. She just stared out at
the night.
‘Does this affect what happened there?’ she said.
‘I think it does, slightly,’ I said. ‘I think Mrs Kramer talked to
Marshall. She must have recognized him from her time on post
in Germany. She probably knew all about him and her husband. Generals’ wives are usually pretty smart. Maybe she even knew
there was a second guy in the picture. Maybe she was pissed
off and taunted Marshall about it. Like, you can’t keep your
man either, right? Maybe Marshall got mad and lashed out.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell Vassell and Coomer right away.
Because the collateral damage wasn’t just about the burglary
itself. It was also about an argument. That’s why I said Mrs
Kramer wasn’t killed just for the briefcase. I think partly she
was killed because she taunted a jealous guy who lost his
temper.’
‘This is all just guesswork.’
‘Mrs Kramer is dead. That isn’t a guess.’
‘The rest of it is.’
‘Marshall is thirty-one, never been married.’
‘That doesn’t prove a thing.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I know. There’s no proof anywhere. Proof is a
scarce commodity right now.’
Summer was quiet for a beat. ‘Then what happened?’
‘Then Vassell and Coomer and Marshall started the hunt
for the briefcase in earnest. They had an advantage over us
because they knew they were looking for a man, not a woman.
Marshall flew back to Germany on the second and searched
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Kramer’s office and his quarters. He found something that led
to Carbone. Maybe a diary, or a letter, or a photograph. Or a
name or a number in an address book. Whatever. He flew back
on the third and they made a plan and they called Carbone.
They blackmailed him. They set up a swap for the next night.
The briefcase for the letter or the photograph or whatever it
was. Carbone accepted the deal. He was happy to because
he didn’t want exposure and anyway he had already called
Brubaker with the details of the agenda. He had nothing to lose
and everything to gain. Maybe he’d been through the process
before. Maybe more than once. Poor guy had been gay in the
army for sixteen years. But this time it didn’t work out for him.
Because Marshall killed him during the exchange.’
‘Marshall? Marshall wasn’t even there.’
‘He was,’ I said. ‘You figured it out yourself. You told me
about it when we were leaving the post to go see Detective
Clark about the crowbar. Remember? When Willard was
chasing me on the phone? You made a suggestion.’
‘What suggestion?’
‘Marshall was in the trunk of the car, Summer. Coomer was
driving, Vassell was in the passenger seat, and Marshall was in
the trunk. That’s how they got past the gate. Then they backed
in at the far end of the O Club lot. Backed in, because Coomer