“You OK?”
“Sit down, Campbell. I know who did it.”
VII
“What?” he said, pushing himself up and back into his seat as though my words had flung him there.
“It’s a matter of access. Who could have killed both engine room crews? The killer would have had to be able to move without anyone seeing him, attack with total surprise and get away before the bodies were discovered,” I said, then waited for the information to sink in. “You following?”
He nodded.
“There is one person we know had the access and the opportunity. Vazquez.”
“No. He didn’t do it.”
I hadn’t even finished saying the SEAL’s name before Campbell delivered the denial.
“I know it’s hard to think of being betrayed by one of your friends, but it happened. Look at what the North Korean crew did.”
Now Campbell was shaking his head.
“You don’t understand. It’s not possible. Vazquez didn’t kill them, I promise you.”
“Ignore your loyalty for a second. You guys stormed onto this boat and checked every compartment. Every single one. There was no one else onboard to commit these crimes. That’s the first point. The second one is that no one was killed until the engine room was sealed off from the rest of the boat. Secrecy for the killer. And the killer obviously didn’t come from the forward part of the ship-the upper deck, anyway.
“And then there’s the fact that all of the people killed didn’t put up a fight. Even Miller, who was attacked from the front. Why? Because they knew their killer. He walked right up and murdered them.
“Finally, Miller’s rifle. Vazquez left it for one reason: he already had one. It all fits.”
Campbell hadn’t stopped shaking his head.
“You tell this to Larsen and Matthews, and they’ll say the same thing. Vazquez didn’t do it. He’s on our side.”
“What is your problem?” His esprit de corps touched off a flare of irritation. “I list 8 million reasons why Vazquez is the biggest suspect, and you brush it all aside by telling me no, it’s just not possible. And I just thought of another reason: he was supposed to search for the bodies, but, conveniently, he didn’t find them.”
“You just have to trust me,” he said. “I know for a fact that Vazquez didn’t do anything to Miller and Martin. And if he didn’t kill them, why would he have killed Hendy, Wilkes and Young? You don’t have a motive, either.”
This I could handle. It made it easier to dilute the frustration in my voice.
“That’s correct. I don’t have a motive. In some cases, though, you don’t need one to find out who did a crime.” I softened my tone further and ticked off each point on my fingertips. “He’s the only person who could have gotten into the engine room unseen. His familiarity to the victims accounts for the lack of struggle. He left the rifle because he didn’t need one. And he didn’t ‘discover’ the bodies of the first two men he killed.”
“Well… yeah,” Campbell said, shifting in his seat. I could see a drop of sweat trickle down the left side of his face, pausing for a moment on the high cheekbone. “I guess he fits in with all the evidence.”
“Not only does he fit in, but no one else on this ship even comes close.”
“But here’s the thing.” Campbell was straightening the stacks of paper now. “He didn’t find the bodies because he wasn’t supposed to. At first.”
“It might be easier for you to stop lying to me, or at least tell a lie that makes sense. Just a suggestion.”
“Lying? No, Vazquez was… look. I shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Jesus Christ! Decide now: fuck me over again, like you did the first time I asked you, or tell me what happened to Miller and Martin.”
“They didn’t just disappear, OK? You were wondering why no one was upset-well, it was because Larsen told them to leave the engine room, to pretend to vanish.”
“He ordered them to vanish.”
“Yeah.”
“Why the hell would he do that?”
Campbell still was focused on the papers, but I could see his cheeks flood with abrupt color.
“To, uh, scare you. Keep you confined in one place. It gave him a reason.”
I laughed, making him look up, his features pinched and confused. “No, no, I can figure it out from here. He didn’t want me snooping around that locker downstairs. And, you know, I’m just a little girl, a woman among men, probably checking her makeup every five minutes and trembling in fear when left alone.”
“It’s not-”
“So, because it wasn’t enough to just fucking order me to stay put for the rest of the trip, he creates some ghost story to keep me out of his hair.”
“He didn’t say that, he just-”
“Didn’t say that? What did he say, then? How many times did he use the word ‘bitch’? Just curious.”
“It was only…” Campbell said, trailing off.
I stayed silent, realizing that he was waiting for me to interrupt him. He cleared his throat and continued.
“… only supposed to spook you. To keep you… OK, fine. He actually said that, ‘to keep her out of my hair.’ He said just ordering you around would get you riled up, make you start talking back and causing trouble. But if you wanted to stay put, if you felt endangered…”
“… then I’d stay in the mess room and cry myself to sleep. Yeah, I got that. Sweet Jesus. No wonder you people were so freaked out when you found Martin’s body. Either Miller had taken his ‘mess with the bitch’s mind’ orders a little too seriously or somebody else onboard took him out. I can see how that would be hard to comprehend.”
“You’re not a bitch,” Campbell said.
“Nice of you to say. I am pissed off, though. I hope you realize, too, that none of this clears Vazquez.”
“What? I just told you-”
“You told me the disappearances were staged. But you saw those bodies. They were real. He still is the only one with access. He still was familiar to the dead guys. But mainly, he’s remaining my top suspect because I’m not going to take a damn thing you say from now on seriously.”
“Oh, come on. That’s not fair. I’ve helped you.”
“You also lied to me. If there weren’t a murderer still running around loose on this ship, I’d just finish my investigation without saying another word to Larsen or any of you other jock stuffers.”
“I’m sorry, OK? It didn’t seem like a big deal.”
I threw the manila folder from the safe at his chest.
“Shut up, read through this and let me cool down.”
He spread its contents on the surface in front of him, careful to avoid looking at my face.
Larsen. That ass. All that discussion about scenarios and motives was just shooting the breeze, killing time until Operation: Keep the Woman in Check kicked into action.
I started writing a mental report to Patterson. I doubted he’d do much besides stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his fellow pistol-waver. But I could make sure my boss, Charlie, got a copy of the report, too. He would be as upset as I was now. I could hear his voice, a cultured East Coast baritone iced over with anger: “Hmmm. If they’re going to work that hard to keep us from helping, maybe we shouldn’t help at all next time.”
And as often as Patterson and his units asked us for help, that might be a deadlier public-relations poison.
“Hey, um… this is serious. This entire first page is all security warnings. ‘Secrets of the Republic… punishment is death… unauthorized access… ’ blah, blah, blah, lots of shit like that.”
I said nothing.
“Well, it seems like a big deal to me,” Campbell said. “Let’s see. Next page… this is all super-technical. Probably over my head in English, too, ha ha.”