The General's Daughter (42 page)

But the time had come, and Cynthia asked her, “You were home on the evening of the murder?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Your husband came home from the O Club at about ten P.M.”

“That’s right.”

“You retired about eleven P.M.?”

“I believe so.”

“And sometime between 0245 and 0300 hours, three A.M. or so, you were awakened by someone ringing your doorbell.”

No reply.

“Your husband went downstairs and answered the door. He came back to the bedroom and told you it was the general, and that
he had to go off on urgent business. Your husband got dressed and asked you to do the same. Correct?”

No reply.

Cynthia said, “And you went with him.” Cynthia added, “You wear a size seven shoe, I believe.”

Mrs. Fowler replied, “Yes, we both got dressed and left.”

No one spoke for a few seconds, then Cynthia said, “You both got dressed and left. And did General Campbell remain in your
house?”

“Yes.”

“And was Mrs. Campbell with him?”

“No, she was not.”

“So General Campbell stayed behind, and you accompanied your husband to rifle range six. Correct?”

“Yes. My husband said that the general told him Ann Campbell was naked, and he told me to bring a robe with me. He said that
Ann Campbell was tied up, so he took a knife for me to cut the rope.”

“All right. You drove along Rifle Range Road, and for the last mile or so, you drove without headlights.”

“Yes. My husband did not want to attract the attention of the guard. He said there was a guard up the road.”

“Yes. And you stopped at the parked humvee, as General Campbell instructed. It was now what time?”

“It was… about three-thirty.”

“It was about three-thirty. You got out of your car and…”

“And I could see something out on the rifle range, and my husband told me to go out there and cut her loose and make her put
the robe on. He said to call him if I needed help.” Mrs. Fowler paused, then added, “He said to slap her around if she didn’t
cooperate. He was very angry.”

“Understandably so,” Cynthia agreed. “So you walked out on the range.”

“Yes. My husband decided to follow about halfway. I think he was concerned about how Ann would react. He thought she might
become violent.”

“And you approached Ann Campbell. Did you say anything?”

“Yes, I called her name, but she didn’t… she didn’t reply. I got right up to her, and… I knelt beside her, and her eyes were
open, but… I screamed… and my husband ran to me…” Mrs. Fowler put her hands over her face and began crying. Cynthia seemed
prepared for this and sprang out of her seat and sat beside Mrs. Fowler on the couch, putting her arm around her and giving
her a handkerchief.

After about a minute, Cynthia said, “Thank you. You don’t have to say any more. We’ll see ourselves out.” And we did.

We got into my Blazer and drove off. I said, “Sometimes a shot in the dark hits its mark.”

Cynthia replied, “But it wasn’t a shot in the dark. I mean, it all makes sense now, it’s all logical, based on what we know
of the facts, and what we know of the personalities.”

“Right. You did a nice job.”

“Thank you. But you set it up.”

Which was true, so I said, “Yes, I did.”

“I suppose I don’t like false modesty or humility in a man.”

“Good. You’re in the right car.” I said, “Do you think Colonel Fowler told her to tell the truth, or did she decide on her
own?”

Cynthia thought a moment, then replied, “I think Colonel Fowler knows that we know
a, b,
and
c.
He told his wife that if we asked about
x,
then she should answer about
x,
and go on about
y
and
z
and get it off her chest, and get it finished with.”

“Right. And Mrs. Fowler is her husband’s witness that Ann Campbell was dead when they got there, and that Colonel Fowler did
not kill her.”

“Correct. And I believe her, and I don’t believe he killed Ann Campbell.”

We drove in silence back toward the main post, both of us deep in thought.

We arrived at Beaumont House a little early, but decided that protocol had to take a backseat to reality for a change, and
we went to the front door, where an MP checked our IDs, then rang the bell for us.

As luck would have it, young and handsome Lieutenant Elby opened the door. He said, “You’re ten minutes early.”

Young Elby wore the crossed-rifles insignia of an infantry officer, and though there was no indication on this uniform that
he’d seen combat anywhere, I deferred to his infantry status and his rank as a commissioned officer. I said to him, “We can
leave and come back, or we can speak to you for a few minutes.”

Lieutenant Elby seemed an amicable sort and showed us in. We went into the waiting room where we’d been before, and, still
standing, I said to Cynthia, “Didn’t you want to use the facilities?”

“What? Oh… yes.”

Lieutenant Elby pointed and said, “There’s a powder room to the left of the foyer.”

“Thank you.” She left.

I said to Elby, “Lieutenant, it has come to my attention that you and Captain Campbell dated.”

Elby looked at me closely, then replied, “That’s correct.”

“Did you know she was also dating Wes Yardley?”

He nodded, and I could tell by his expression that this was still a painful memory for him. I could certainly understand this—a
clean-cut young officer having to share his boss’s daughter with a less-than-clean-cut townie, a sort of bad-boy cop. I said
to Elby, “Did you love her?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“You already have. And were your intentions honorable?”

“Why are you asking me these questions? You’re here to speak to Mrs. Campbell.”

“We’re early. So you knew about Wes Yardley. Did you hear other rumors that Ann Campbell dated married officers on post?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I guess he didn’t hear those rumors. And I guess he didn’t know about the room in the basement, either. I said to him, “Did
the general approve of your relationship with his daughter?”

“Yes, he did. Do I have to answer these questions?”

“Well, three days ago you didn’t, and you could have told me to go to hell. And a few days from now, you could probably tell
me the same thing. But right now, yes, you have to answer these questions. Next question—did Mrs. Campbell approve?”

“Yes.”

“Did you and Ann Campbell ever discuss marriage?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Talk to me, Lieutenant.”

“Well… I knew she was involved with this Yardley guy, and I was… annoyed… but it wasn’t just that… I mean, she told me that…
that she had to be sure her parents approved, and when the general gave his blessings, we would announce our engagement.”

“I see. And you discussed this with the general, man-to-man?”

“Yes, I did, a few weeks ago. He seemed happy, but he told me to take a month to think it over. He said that his daughter
was a very headstrong young woman.”

“I see. And then recently you received orders to go to someplace on the other side of the world.”

He looked at me, sort of surprised. “Yes… Guam.”

I almost laughed, but didn’t. Though he was my superior, he was young enough to be my son, and I put my hand on his shoulder.
I said to him, “Lieutenant, you could have been the best thing to happen to Ann Campbell, but it wasn’t going to happen. You
got caught in a power struggle between General and Captain Campbell, and they moved you up and down the board. Somewhere in
the back of your mind you understand this. Get on with your life and your career, Lieutenant, and the next time you think
about marriage, take two aspirin, lie down in a dark room, and wait for the feeling to pass.”

Unfortunately, Cynthia returned at that very moment and gave me a nasty look.

Lieutenant Elby seemed confused and irritated, but something was clicking in his brain. He looked at his watch and said, “Mrs.
Campbell will see you now.”

We followed Elby into the hallway, and he showed us into a large, sort of Victorian parlor at the front of the house.

Mrs. Campbell rose from her chair and we went to her. She was wearing a simple black dress, and as I got closer I could see
the resemblance to her daughter. At about sixty years old, Mrs. Campbell had made that transition from beautiful to attractive,
but it would be another ten years at least before people would begin using the neutral and sexless expression “a handsome
woman.”

Cynthia took her hand first and went through the condolences. I also took her hand and did the same. She said, “Won’t you
be seated?” She indicated a love seat near the front window. We sat, and she took the love seat opposite. Between us was a
small round table on which sat a few decanters of cordials and glasses. Mrs. Campbell was drinking tea, but asked us, “Would
you like some sherry or port?”

Actually, I wanted the alcohol, but not if I had to drink sherry or port to get at it. I declined, but Cynthia said yes to
sherry, and Mrs. Campbell poured one for her.

Mrs. Campbell, I was surprised to discover, had a southern accent, but then I remembered seeing her on television once during
the Gulf War, and I recalled thinking what a politically perfect pair they were: a rock-hard general from the Midwest and
a cultured lady from the South.

Cynthia made some light chatter, and Mrs. Campbell, for all her grief, kept up her end of the conversation. Mrs. Campbell,
it turned out, was from South Carolina, herself the daughter of an Army officer. June Campbell—that was her name—was, I thought,
the embodiment of everything that was good about the South. She was polite, charming, and gracious, and I recalled what Colonel
Fowler had said about her, and I added loyal and ladylike but tough.

I was aware that the clock was ticking, but Cynthia seemed in no hurry to get to the nasty stuff, and I assumed she had decided
it wasn’t appropriate and/or had lost her nerve. I didn’t blame her at all. But then Cynthia said, “I assume Mrs. Fowler,
or perhaps Colonel Fowler, called you before we arrived.”

Good shot, Cynthia.

Mrs. Campbell put her teacup down and replied in the same quiet tone of voice she’d been conversing in, “Yes, it was Mrs.
Fowler. I’m so glad she had the opportunity to speak to you. She’s been very upset and feels so much better now.”

“Yes,“ Cynthia replied, “it’s often that way. You know, Mrs. Campbell, I’m assigned mostly to cases of sexual assault, and
I can tell you that when I begin questioning people who I know can tell me something, I can almost feel the tension. It’s
sort of like everybody is wound up, but once the first person speaks up, it begins to unwind, as it has here.”

This was Cynthia’s way of saying that once the code of silence is broken, everyone falls all over one another to go on the
record as a government witness. Beats the hell out of being a suspect.

Cynthia said to Mrs. Campbell, “So from what Mrs. Fowler tells me, and from what Mr. Brenner and I have discovered from other
sources, it appears that the general received a call from Ann in the early morning hours, asking him to meet her on the rifle
range, presumably to discuss something. Is that correct?”

Another shot in the dark or, to give Cynthia some credit, a very good guess.

Mrs. Campbell replied, “The red telephone beside the bed rang at about one forty-five A.M. The general immediately answered
it, and I woke up as well. I watched him as he listened. He never spoke, but hung up and got out of bed and began getting
dressed. I never ask him what these calls are about, but he always tells me where he’s going and when he expects to be back.”
She smiled and said, “Since we’ve been at Fort Hadley, he doesn’t get many calls in the middle of the night, but in Europe,
when the phone rang, he’d fly out of bed, grab a packed bag, and be off to Washington or to the East German border, or who
knows where. But he’d always tell me… This time he just said he’d be back in an hour or so. He put on civilian clothes and
left. I watched him pull away and noticed that he used my car.”

“What kind of car is that, ma’am?”

“A Buick.”

Cynthia nodded and said, “Then at about four or four-thirty in the morning, the general returned home and told you what had
happened.”

She stared off into space, and for the first time I could see the face of a tired and heartsick mother, and I could only imagine
what toll these years had taken. Surely, a wife and mother could not have countenanced what a father and husband had done
to their daughter in the name of the greater good, in the name of career advancement and positive public images. But on some
level, she must have come to terms with it.

Cynthia prompted, “Your husband came home about four-thirty A.M.”

“Yes… I was waiting up for him… here in the front room. When he walked in the door, I knew my daughter was dead.” She stood.
“And that’s all I know. Now that my husband’s career is ended, all we have left is the hope that you can find who did this.
Then we can all go on and make our peace.”

We stood also, and Cynthia said, “We’re doing our best, and we thank you for putting aside your grief to speak to us.”

I said that we could find our way out, and we made our departure.

Outside, on the way to my vehicle, I said, “The general’s career ended ten years ago in Keller Army Hospital at West Point.
It just took some time for it to catch up with him.”

“Yes, he not only betrayed his daughter, but he betrayed himself and his wife.”

We got into the Blazer and I pulled away from Beaumont House.

W
hat did you speak to Lieutenant Elby about?” Cynthia asked as I drove.

“Love and marriage.”

“Yes, I heard that piece of enduring wisdom.”

“Well… you know, he’s too young to settle down. He had proposed marriage to Ann Campbell.”

“Marrying Ann Campbell is not what I’d call settling down.”

“True.” I briefed Cynthia on my short conversation with Elby, and added, “Now the poor bastard is being shipped to Guam. That’s
what happens—like in those old Greek plays when a mortal has carnal knowledge of a goddess. They wind up insane, turned into
an animal or some inanimate object, or get banished to Guam or its Aegean equivalent.”