“Ms. Branner. Those are strong words. Let me ask you right here and now: Do you have a single scrap of physical evidence that someone, anyone, murdered Brian Dell?”
“No, but I do have evidence that a senior naval officer is obstructing me from ever getting our hands on such evidence.”
The word obstructing hung in the air for almost fifteen seconds while Robbins and Branner glared at each other. Then he punched the intercom and told his secretary to get Mr. Harry Chang at NCIS headquarters on the line. Then he swiveled around in his chair and stared out the windows down into Tecumseh Court. Jim and Branner looked at each other. They were still standing in front of the dant’s desk like a pair of truants. Then one of the lines lighted up and the secretary announced that Mr. Chang was holding on line one. Robbins, still facing away from them, reached back for the phone.
“Harry? Have you been in contact with Special Agent Branner lately?”
He waited for a reply. “No, but actually, she’s right here. I’ve explained to her that the Dell thing is being shut down. She says that she has new information and that I’m obstructing a murder investigation. Would you like to do some calibrating?”
He listened for a few seconds, then turned around to hand the phone to Branner. “Mr. Hall, come outside with me, if you please.”
Jim followed Robbins out into the secretarial area, closing the door behind him so Branner could have some privacy. No doubt Chang was going to go off on her.
“Mr. Hall, you like your job here? You want to keep it?”
Jim looked down at him. Robbins’s face was controlled, but the anger was clearly visible in his eyes. The secretary tactfully got up and left the room. Jim tried to think of something really clever to say, but before he got anything out, Branner appeared in the doorway.
“Captain Robbins?” she said in a perfectly neutral tone of voice. “Mr. Chang would like a word.”
Robbins gave Jim one last meaningful look and went back into his office. Branner looked at Jim and tipped her head in a “Let’s go” motion. They left the office suite and went out into the Rotunda. He started to ask her what had happened, but she shook her head. They went on outside into Tecumseh Court. Night had fallen. They walked in silence down the wide worn steps, flanked by ancient bronze cannons, and continued down Buchanan Road until they reached Jim’s truck. They got in and sat there in the shadows created by the streetlights. The white bulk of the superintendent’s quarters, Buchanan House, gleamed in a bath of floodlights to their right.
“I am so pissed off, I can’t see straight,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“I got asked if I liked my job,” he offered. “If that’s any consolation.”
She grunted.
“I was trying to think of some really cool reply just when you came to the door,” he continued. “And how’s Mr. Chang this evening?”
“Showing lots of teeth.”
“Neat trick over a phone.”
“But one he does rather well. I think he figured out I’d been playing coy with the phones this afternoon.”
“Did you get to explain that we have new information on the Dell case?”
“There is no Dell case. And, no, I didn’t, because I was invited to go into the receive mode right from the start.”
“Know that feeling,” he said. “I really did want to ask the dant what it was he was going to do to Julie Markham, but he seemed to have a locked transmitter, too.”
“I can’t believe they’d just fold the whole thing under a rug like this.”
“Well, I don’t agree with it, but I can see how the people up in D.C. might talk themselves into it. The SecNav asking Chang, ‘You have evidence of anything other than an accident?’ ‘Negative,’ Chang replies. SecNav says, ‘The security officer down there, you know, that world-famous detective? He’s got some wild-ass theories, but evidence?’ ‘Why, no, Mr. Secretary.’ ‘All right, then. Wrap it up. Whole Navy’s getting a black eye. Enough, awreddy.’”
“And Short Round back there going, ‘Yes, sir, Mr. Secretary, we can certainly do that, sir. Right now, if you’d like, sir.’” She made a rude noise.
“Well, there is one question: Now that we’ve heard testimony that implicates this guy Booth in both the Dell matter and what’s been going on down in those tunnels, what’re we going to do about it?”
Branner looked over at him. “How well do you like your job, Mr. Hall?”
“Not well enough to cover up a murder, if that’s what happened,” he declared, surprising himself.
She turned fully sideways in the seat. “Sure about that? People who go standing on principle in the government usually find out where they got that expression ‘slippery slope.’”
“You keep telling me it’s a nothing job,” he pointed out.
Branner smiled. “Tell me this: If I weren’t in the picture at all, what would you do right now?”
“I’d go hunt down this kid, Booth. Look him in the eye and see if he was the guy in vampire makeup who’s been screwing around with our tunnels. And if he was, I’d cuff his ass, arrest him, and haul him down to the Academy police station volleyball court for a game of Little Slugger.”
“No you wouldn’t,” she said. “First, you’re not a cop. Second, even if you were, a tune-up queers the deal for any prosecutor. Third, baseball bats went out with the KGB.”
He laughed in the darkness. “What would you do?”
“Well, look. In one sense, they’re all correct: We have no frigging evidence. Just the word of two frightened midshipmen. Julie Markham, who shouldn’t have been messing with that plebe outside of the chain of command. And Tommy Hays, her ex-boyfriend, who knows Booth screwed his girlfriend, and thinks the guy tried to ice him. Hell, maybe she was right: If she’d stayed out of it, his own supervisors would eventually have detected the Dyle Booth thing. As it is-”
“As it is, the kid’s dead,” he said. “That’s all that matters now. I say we go find Booth and interrogate him.”
“Say we did. He could just shine us on. Say absolutely nothing. Deny everything. Who saw him running this plebe in the dead of night? Who can prove he had any connection with Dell? The only one really pointing the finger is Julie Markham, and she’s the one in trouble, not Booth.”
He sighed. She was right on all counts, damn her eyes. He wasn’t a cop. He had no professional training in the rights of suspects and witnesses. Booth did not have to say a frigging thing. Just then, headlights swept across their faces and they saw the supe’s official Navy sedan swing into the arched driveway of Buchanan House. When it stopped, they saw the aide and the admiral get out. The two talked for a minute in the driveway, and then the admiral went inside. Jim looked at Branner.
“There’s the Man. Wanna take a shot?” he asked.
She thought about it for a few seconds and then nodded. “Sure, why the hell not? Can’t dance.”
Ev got out of the shower and heard the phone ringing. It was Liz, who suggested he come down to Angelo’s on the waterfront, where she was taking Julie and Tommy Hays. Resisting the urge to pelt her with questions, he said he’d be there in twenty minutes.
The restaurant was barely half full, so they had some privacy. Liz took him through the meeting with Hall and Branner while Julie and Tommy Hays sat there munching on some calamari and avoiding eye contact with Ev. When she was finished, Ev didn’t know what to think, other than that he was truly upset that Julie had lied about her involvement with Dell.
“Are they going to go after this Midshipman Booth?” he asked.
“They said they were,” Liz said. “But the powers that be might, in effect, protect Booth if they’ve decided to shut the investigation down.”
“And somehow smear Julie with what happened to Dell?”
Julie started to say something, but Liz beat her to it. “The more I think about that, the more I believe we can stop it.”
“How?” Julie asked. Hays, who’d reminded Julie about exams, was looking at his watch.
“Branner,” Liz said. “I got the impression she wasn’t going to just sit by and let that happen.”