was supposed to keep very quiet about.
‘I’ll lose my job now,’ he said.
He got worried to the point of tears and Summer had to
calm him down. Then he told us he had found Kramer’s body
and called the cops and cleared all the hourly renters out for
safety’s sake. Then Deputy Chief Stockton had shown up within
about fifteen minutes. Then I had shown up, and when I left
some time later he recognized the same” vehicle sounds he had
heard before. Same engine noise, same drivetrain noises, same
tyre whine. He was convincing. He had already admitted that
hookers used the place all the time, so he had no more reason
to lie. And Humvees were still relatively new. Still relatively
rare. And they made a distinctive noise. So I believed him. We
left him there on his stool and stepped outside into the cold red
glow of the Coke machine.
‘No hooker,’ Summer said. ‘A woman from the base instead.’
‘A woman officer,’ I said. ‘Maybe fairly senior. Someone with
permanent access to her own Humvee. Nobody signs out a pool
vehicle for an assignation like that. And she’s got his briefcase.
She must have.’
‘She’ll be easy to find. She’ll be in the gate log, time out, time
in.’
‘I might have even passed her on the road. If she left here at
eleven twenty-five she wasn’t back at Bird before about twelve
fifteen. I was leaving around then.’
‘If she went straight back to the post.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘If.’
‘Did you see another Humvee?’
‘Don’t think so,’ I said.
66
‘Who do you think she is?’
I shrugged. ‘Like we figured about the phantom hooker.
Someone he met somewhere. Irwin, probably, but it could have
been anywhere.’
I stared across at the gas station. Watched cars go by on the
road.
‘Vassell and Coomer might know her,’ Summer said. ‘You
know, if it was a long term thing between her and Kramer.’
‘Yes, they might.’
‘Where do you think they are?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure I’ll find them if I need
them.’
I didn’t find them. They found me. They were waiting for me in
my borrowed office when we got back. Summer dropped me
at my door and went to park the car. I walked past the outer
desk. The night shift sergeant was back. The mountain woman,
with the baby son and the paycheck worries. She gestured at
the inner door in a way that told me someone was in there.
Someone that ranked a lot higher than either of us.
‘Got coffee?’ I said.
‘The machine is on,’ she said.
I took some with me. My coat was still unbuttoned. My hair
was a mess. I looked exactly like a guy who had been brawling
in a parking lot. I walked straight to the desk. Put my coffee
down. There were two guys in upright visitor chairs against the
wall, facing me. They were both in woodland BDUs. One of
them had a brigadier general’s star on his collar and the other
had a colonel’s eagle. The general had Vassell on his name tape
and the colonel had Coomer. Vassell was bald and Coomer
wore eyeglasses and they were both pompous enough and old
enough and short and soft and pink enough to look vaguely
ridiculous in BDUs. They looked like Rotary Club members on
their way to a fancy dress ball. First impression, I didn’t like
them very much.
I sat down in my chair and saw two slips of paper stacked
square in the centre of the blotter. The first was a note that
said: Your brother called again. Urgent. This time there was a
phone number with it. It had a 202 area code. Washington D.C.
67
‘Don’t you salute senior officers?’ Vassell said, from his chair.
The second note said: Col. Garber called. Green Valley PD
calculates Mrs K died approx. 0200. I folded both notes separately
and tucked them side by side under the base of my
telephone. Adjusted them so I could see exactly half of each
one. Looked up in time to see Vassell glaring at me. His naked