They drove in separate cars to the shopping center in Great Falls and went into the Irish pub. They ordered drinks and made some quick decisions about the menu.
“Have you become a believer now?” she asked once the waitress had left.
Train reflected for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. There are still some bothersome inconsistencies, but -his overall situation points toward a setup. His wife shot herself. God, there’s the ultimate”I’ll show you.’ She shivered. “That son definitely sounds like -somebody we need to talk to.
Train nodded. “I’ll start beating the bushes tomorrow.
Then maybe we both go talk to him.”
“But do you think he would talk to us?”
“Ve Germans haff our methods, madame,” Train intoned. She smiled. He returned the smile. It was the first truly personal smile she had seen, and she suddenly wanted to talk about something besides this baffling Sherman case.
“So, do you live in Virginia?” she asked. He told her a little of his background, then briefly described his home on the Potomac, near.Aquia.
She became increasin ly intrigued as he described the household setup, beginning to wonder why someone with obvious financial security and a law degree would be working for the NIS. He sensed her question.
“I know it sounds a bit anomalous. But I think I’m making a contribution, and that’s been a big part of our family’s ethic over the generations. Can’t escape our Prussian heritage, I guess, although every time I’ve pulled the genealogical string, things get a little vague about exactly where the von came from in von Rensel. It may have been appropriated on the way over with von Steuben.”
She stiffed her Chardonnay with a fingernail. “And why no family? Is that part of the master plan?”
He looked discomfited, and she realized he was basically a very shy man.
“Not my master plan,” he said quietly.
“But, hell, look at me. Man Mountain Dean. Women find me-what’s the word? Exotic, I guess. I usually see two reactions from the ladies: downright fright at the thou4t of being with such a big guy, or salacious interest, for the same reason. I guess nobody ever wanted to take me home to meet the folks.”
She smiled at that. “When I was younger, it seemed like lots of Navy guys wanted to take me home to meet the folks,” she said. “But as a Navy lawyer, I saw too many mamages like the admiral’s: women left alone to cope with tight budgets, disaffected kids who thought that their daddies went away because they’d done something wrong, or the fallout from the randy sailor types who had to have a woman in every port; sometimes including home port.”
“Were there no civilians?”
“Not really. You know, when you’re in the Navy, you tend to socialize Navy. You were in the Marines; you didn’t associate with civilians, did you?”
“Nope,” he acknowledged. “Civilians were all hapless dolts who desperately needed the protection of the few, the strong, and the brave.”
She hummed a few bars of the Marine Corps hymn and he laughed. “Stop, or I’ll have to stand up and salute,” he said. Their eyes met for a momenl “This is much better, Mr. Man Mountain,” she said. “I think we’re going to do okay.” He raised his beer mug in a grave salute as the evening’s entertainment, a two-man band accompanied by a twenty-piece orchestra in a computer, lit off in the comer and ended any Pope of further conversation.
After dinner, they walked slowly out to the parking lot.
She was wondering how he would tie off the evening.
“I’m glad we did this,” he said when they reached their cars. He looked as if he wanted to say more but was too shy to come out with it.
“So am I,” she replied. “However this Sherman mess comes out.”
He smiled, and she almost invited him back to the house for a nightcap4 But the moment passed and he became all business again.
“Are there any other signs that the JAG’s having second thouihts about our investigation?” he asked as he unlocked his car.
“Other signs?”
“Who else-but Carpenter would have the power to lock you out of a JAG archives file? That’s what I was talking about earlier. “
“Oh. I never thought-you think he did that?”
“He did or someone did on his orders. I was th4iking: Maybe tomorrow would be a good, day to call in sick. In case he’s waiting to call you up to the front office and tell you to go back to reviewing investigations. I don’t know, but I suddenly have this feeling that we’ve been switched off the main line here.”
“Well, I suppose I could.” Once again, he had taken her by surprise.
Carpenter?
He opened his car door. “Look,” he said, “like I told Sherman, you need to be vigilant, too. Remember what’s been ha pening to people close to Sherman. Right now, I p from an outsider’s perspective, you qualify.”
There it was, that big-brother attitude of his again, she thought. But this time, she did not resent it. She decided to flirt a little. “But I have you to protect me, Mr. Man Mountain, right?”
He gave her a wary eye. “You want me to stay with you tonight?” he asked, keeping it light by giving her a barely visible grin.
She felt a tingle of excitement, and she batted her eyes.
“How The neighbors would talk.”
“What neighbors are those, specifically?” he asked. But then, as if sensing this was getting a little too personal, he backed off. “Look, whoever’s doing this is pretty good at it. Something strikes you as being out of whack, call me.”
He fished out a card and wrote something on the back of it.
“Here’s the number for my car phone, and my home phone and fax numbers down in Aquia. False alarms are acceptable.
She thanked him and then watched him drive out of the parking lot. She drove home, speculating on things and feelings long dormant, too long dormant. Once home, she started to lock up the house, then remembered the dog. She went back out onto the front porch and called. Nothing. The barn-the last place she had seen Harry. He had been trotting down toward his favorite sunning spot. I’ll bet he’s sound asleep. She walked across the front of the house and down toward the aisle of hedge between the yard and the barn. The night was cooler now, with clear skies and a sprinkling of stars. The loom of Washington’s lights permeated the southeastern horizon. She automatically searched for and found Polaris; Frank had made a fetish of fixing the North Star every time he went outside at night. She could hear small rustlings in the hedge as she passed down the shadowy aisle, taking care not to hang up a heel on a crack in the mossy bricks. A car went by out on Beach Mill Road, but the sound was dampened by the dense hedge.
She came out into the barn enclosure and looked around.
The horses were not visible, but there was a night-light on in the aisle. She called the dog again, but nothing happened.
Funny. Normally, he would have been bounding out of the barn by now. She walked forward, into the isleway. The familiar smells of hay, straw, and leather reeking of One Step cleaner met her as she crossed the threshold. She looked down the aisle in the dim light and saw Harry, lying on his saddle pad against the door of the tack room.
“Hey, beast, let’s go. It’s time to go in the house.” Harry didn’t move.
Alarmed, she went over to him. The dog was not in his customary furry ball. He was lying against the door, breathing, but more crumpled than curled. “Harry?”
she called, kneeling. The dog didn’t move. His breathing sounded ragged, shallow. Then she smelled something medicinal, like alcohol, but not exactly. Sweeter, almost sickly sweet. She remembered that smell. What the hell was it?
Ether! That’s what it was, ether. She bent closer to the dog’s muzzle, and the smell was stronger. Some bastard had There was a loud crash as something hit the tin roof of the barn, something hard and sharp that rattled down the slope of the metal roof and fell with a small thud into the paddock outside. She nearly jumped out of her skin and stood up, flattening herself against the door, her breath frozen in her throat.