A Slow Walk to Hell (13 page)

T
hey’re making their move.

Upon entering Talbot’s bedroom, I saw Simon and Amanda waiting for me on the couch in the sitting area. Unlike when I’d left, their faces were tight and somber. It occurred to me that this could be the primary reason Simon had asked me to leave. So he and Amanda could coordinate the full press they were about to give me.

“Close the door, Martin.”

I did and walked over to them, stopping at the edge of the coffee table. Simon waved me to a recliner across from him and Amanda.

“I’ll stand.” Simon was a master of intimidation. He wanted to put me into a position where I’d be looking directly at the two of them.

He shrugged. “As you wish, Martin.”

My eyes went to Amanda. Her face was stone, but I thought I detected a crack of sympathy. Maybe I just wanted it to be there.

Simon said, “Coller’s description matched the man in the video?”

“Yeah.” I followed up by relating that Talbot had gotten his buddy Major Coller a plum job, working for Mrs. Harris.

Simon digested this thoughtfully, eying the folder in my hand. “I assume he’s listed?”

“Yes, but he’s not in.” I told him about the message I’d left.

“I’d like to be there when you question him.”

“Fine.” Simon usually didn’t tag along when Amanda and I interviewed military suspects. By indicating he wanted to do so, he was emphasizing Coller’s importance.

“His address?”

“Seven, eight minutes from here. A townhouse near Silas Park.”

“Convenient,” Amanda said.

“Read it to me,” Simon said.

After I gave him Coller’s address, he placed a call to an Arlington PD dispatcher, relayed a description of Coller, and requested a patrol car be sent to his residence. “Have the officer phone me the moment Major Coller arrives, Dee Dee. No matter how late. Thank you.”

He slipped his phone in his jacket, appraising me with the piercing gaze he usually reserved for potential suspects. It was a strange sensation. I’d seen him question dozens of people over the years, but never figured that one day I’d be on the hot seat.

“You saw the phone calls that I highlighted?” he said suddenly.

“Yes.”

“Rather numerous.”

I nodded.

Simon anticipated a response. When I remained silent, he said, “Martin, please. Don’t make this any harder than it is.”

I heard the reluctance in his voice. He didn’t want to do this any more than I did. But we both knew we had to play it out.

“General Baldwin didn’t kill anyone, Simon.”

“He had motive. He’s a man with a family reputation and a career to protect.”

“You’re making assumptions you can’t prove.”

“So you still deny—”

“Yes.”

His smooth face tightened, but when he spoke his voice remained calm. “General Baldwin’s name is on Major Talbot’s address list.”

“So what? Talbot worked for him. You probably noticed there were two other general officers listed. My guess is they were also former bosses—”

“Talbot,” he interrupted, “only had their office numbers. In Baldwin’s case, he had office, home, and cellular numbers.”

“Simon, you’re reaching big-time. You really are. Major Talbot prepared briefings for General Baldwin. Some were completed at the last minute, well after duty hours. On those occasions, he would need to call General Baldwin to clear up any final additions—”

“Twenty-three times in the past two months?”

Simon thought he had me and I considered playing my trump. But that wouldn’t guarantee he’d tell me what else he had and I wanted to know.

I gazed back coolly.

He said, “We still haven’t received the printout of the calls Talbot made on his cell phone. When we do, I anticipate even more. Now, do you have any reason to explain the frequency of the calls?”

“I told you. Major Talbot worked on briefings—”

“Oh, stop it, Marty,” Amanda said. “You know damn well no major calls a two-star that many times. We’re talking about two to three calls a week
to Baldwin’s home
.”

Her eyes matched the hard set of her jaw, any suggestion of her earlier empathy gone. She was a cop grilling an uncooperative witness now.

I said, “Those calls could be work related—”

“Right. And I believe in the tooth fairy.” She looked to Simon. “Let’s quit screwing around and finish this.”

He nodded.

I knew what this meant; they also had trump.

Amanda fished her notepad from her jacket and opened it with a flourish. Referring to it, she said, “Two neighbors drove by Talbot’s at around four-twenty this afternoon. Mrs. Imelda Stefanski and her teenage daughter Becky. They remembered seeing a green sedan sitting at Talbot’s front gate, waiting to go in. Mrs. Stefanski thought it might have been a Lincoln or Caddy. We ran a check with the DMV—” She saw me tense up. “Well, well. Guess you know General Baldwin owns a green Caddy.”

“It doesn’t prove anything. A lot of people own green Cadillacs. Unless they can identify the driver…” I trailed off; she was smiling at me.

“The
driver,”
she said, “was getting into the car as if he’d just buzzed the intercom. The Stefanskis only glimpsed him from the back…”

I felt myself relax. Then she slammed me with the kicker.

“A white male, dark brown or black hair. They had the impression he was tall. They were certain he had on a military uniform.” She paused for effect. “A blue uniform with two stars. Mrs. Stefanski’s husband’s a retired colonel and she notices rank—” She practically came out of her seat. “For crying out loud, Marty, who else could it be? It had to be Baldwin.”

I continued to shake my head, trying to understand how this could be possible. “It can’t be Sam. He has an alibi. I checked with his executive officer, Major Tenpas. He verified that Sam was only gone from his office for about an hour—”

I stopped; I’d heard my own words.

Sam’s executive officer, Major Tenpas
.

“Ah, hell,” I said.

Simon seem puzzled by my reaction, but Amanda sat back with a look of satisfaction. Like me, she knew that the singular trait an exec possessed above all else was loyalty.

I felt foolish. I’d taken Tenpas at his word because I wanted to believe him. I wanted Sam to have an alibi. But after I left Sam, he had at least three minutes to call Tenpas, tell him to—

“Should be easy enough to check, Marty,” Amanda said.

When Major Tenpas answered my call, I tore into him, reminding him that lying to an OSI investigator was a court-martial offense. Then I told him that Major Talbot had been murdered and that General Baldwin was a suspect. I summed up by telling him that we had eyewitnesses who could place Baldwin at Talbot’s home at the time he was supposed to be in the POAC.

“Now,” I said, “when the hell did General Baldwin really return this afternoon?”

There was a long pause. When he replied, I expected him to sound rattled. Instead his voice was completely calm.

“You understand,” I said, at the conclusion of his statement, “that I will personally bring you up on charges if you’re lying.”

“I understand.”

“You could go to jail.”

“I told you the truth. I know what I saw.”

I hung up, shaking my head at Simon and Amanda. “He still insists Sam was back in the office by seventeen hundred.”

Simon and Amanda had no comment. There wasn’t any need. Since we believed the two female witness, we knew Tenpas had to be lying.

“No bullshit, Sam. I want the truth. Did you have any contact with Talbot other than what you told me or have any knowledge of what’s behind his death?”

“No, Marty. I swear to God.”

I sagged into one of the recliners. Amanda and Simon continued to watch me in silence. From their sober expressions, it was clear that they took no pleasure in the fact that I’d been so wrong.

“Martin,” Simon said softly. “I’m sorry.”

I forced a smile. “You called it. You said my loyalty was misplaced.”

“Is it still?”

Even now, it was hard to give him what he wanted. “Simon, I know how it looks. But if it turns out Sam is innocent and this gets out…”

“No one will know.” He looked at Amanda. She nodded.

I knew they would keep their word or at least try. But the reality was that this was a high-visibility murder investigation and Sam was the prime suspect. Once that fact became known, every media outlet would scrutinize his past. Eventually, someone seeking their fifteen minutes of fame would come forward.

I told myself I was doing the right thing. The only thing I could. Still, a hollow sensation welled up inside me.

Guilt.

T
wenty-five years was a long time. I closed my eyes, speaking as the memories came back.

“In college, everyone has a best friend and Sam was mine. We’d roomed together since our freshman year and by the time we were seniors, we were as close as brothers. I’m not sure what drew us together. Other than being in ROTC and members of the cadet corps, we had no real shared interest. As a Baldwin, Sam was born into military aristocracy and constantly worked to live up to that legacy. Sports, grades, climbing up the cadet pecking order, you name it, Sam was driven…bred…to be the best. I was just the opposite. I was a laid back, small town kid from Warrentown. I didn’t possess Sam’s pedigree or ambition. My goals were to survive college and cadet life, get an officer’s commission so I wouldn’t have to fly crop dusters like my dad.

“Maybe that’s why Sam and I hit it off. We each got something positive from the relationship. Whenever he got too intense, I could get him to relax. Talk him into kicking back with a few beers, maybe play some touch football or go waterskiing at Clayter Lake. Sam had the tougher role. He took it upon himself to get into my face whenever I kissed things off too much. I used to resent it, but the truth was I probably would have flunked out if it hadn’t been for him. I can’t tell you how many nights he stayed up, helped me cram for one exam or another.

“Friends like Sam are rare. I thought we’d remain close forever. But then I never envisioned what would happen on our last trip to Clayter Lake.

“The lake’s close to the school. It’s only thirty minutes from Blacksburg, the town where the college is. Whenever we had a free weekend, a group of us would camp out, get a little waterskiing in and drink some beer. Just relax and chill out. Forget about the chickenshit of being a cadet.

“Anyway, the trip was Sam’s idea. It surprised us because it was a couple weeks before we graduated and with finals coming up, we figured he’d want to study. But he loved hanging out at the lake. It was the one place where he could completely relax, escape the pressure of being a Baldwin. So we talked Jimmy and Hank into it. Convinced them they had to party with us one last time.

“It was Jimmy who told Randy he could come along. Why Jimmy agreed, I’m not sure. All I can figure is Randy must have heard about the trip and asked him. None of us knew Randy well. He was a regular student, not a member of the corps. I’d had him in a few classes. He was a quiet guy who kept to himself. I always thought he was a little strange. But if Jimmy said he could ski with us, we weren’t going to argue. Jimmy was from Blacksburg and it was his father’s boat.

“We got to the campground around five that Friday. School hadn’t let out for the summer, so we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We skied for a couple hours, until it got dark. Then we sat around the campfire, grilling burgers and drinking beer. And talking about our futures as commissioned officers. What kind of career we hoped for, who was going to stay in for the full twenty, that kind of thing.

“Randy sat there and didn’t say much. Since he wasn’t a cadet, I guess he felt a little out of place. I know I would have, if I’d been him.

“It was well after dark when it happened. Probably around ten. By then, we were all pretty loaded. We’d finished up one case and were working on the second. Sam was the most wasted. You could always tell when he’d had too much because his personality changed. Normally, he was mellow, low keyed. But pour enough booze in him and he’d get defensive as hell, blow up at the slightest thing. A couple times, he and Hank almost got into a fight. Hank was going to be a Marine. He enjoyed riding Sam about being a pampered Baldwin, of having his future handed to him without having to work for it.

“I remembered Jimmy had gone into the woods to take a leak. And Hank was…I’m not sure where Hank went. Scrounging firewood, I think. Me, I was beat and had decided to turn in. I’d just crawled into the tent when I heard Sam shout, ‘You motherfucker!’

“Right away, I thought Hank must have come back and said something to him. But when I looked out the tent, I saw Sam standing toe to toe with Randy. Sam looked as mad as I’d ever seen him. His eyes were wild, crazed. I knew what was going to happen next. I shouted, ‘Sam, don’t do it!’

“I was too late. Sam tackled Randy and knocked him to the ground. He sat on top of his chest and began punching the hell out of him. Randy screamed, tried to fend off the blows. It didn’t do any good. Randy was a little guy and Sam was too damned big.

“I ran from the tent, hollering at the top of my lungs for Jimmy and Hank. When I reached Sam, I tried to pull him off of Randy, but couldn’t do it. He fought me off with one hand and kept punching Randy with the other. He was out of control. Every time he hit Randy, he yelled, ‘It’s not true. It’s not true.’

“Jimmy and Hank showed up and we managed to wrestle Sam off of Randy. We had to hold him for what seemed like forever before he calmed down. Randy lay there whimpering and spitting up blood. He was a mess. Sam had really done a number on him. Split lip, busted teeth, blackened eyes. We were going to call for an ambulance from a pay phone, but realized it’d be quicker to drive him to the hospital. There was one twenty minutes away.

“During the ride, Sam sat in the back seat and never said a word. Never explained what Randy had said to set him off.

“When we got Randy to the hospital, the doc took one look at him and called the cops. They showed up and we all gave statements. We thought they were going to arrest Sam and they probably would have, if he hadn’t been a Baldwin. His name carries a lot of weight in that part of Virginia. A lot of the Baldwin men graduated from Virginia Tech and after their military and business careers, returned to the area to live. One of his uncles had been the school president and a cousin had been a state senator.

“It was around three in the morning when Sam and I got back to our room. Up to then, he’d shown no emotion. None. He was completely withdrawn, almost catatonic. But the moment we went inside, that all changed. He broke down and began to cry. I thought it was because he’d sobered up enough to understand what he’d done and how much trouble he was in. Baldwin or not, he’d hurt Randy bad. At the least, he’d get booted from the corps of cadets and ROTC, ending any hope of a military career. At the worst, he could get jail time.

“But it turned out Sam wasn’t crying about those things. Rather, it was something else that I never saw coming. By now, you’ve guessed what it was. What it had to be. There, I’ve said it. I’ve told you the truth. All of it.”

I sat up and opened my eyes.

Simon and Amanda were watching me. She said, “So General Baldwin really is gay?”

“Yes.”

“He was married, had a child. Was that a cover?”

“Yes…and no. He loved Ann, his wife. He thought being with her might change his…feelings. It didn’t.”

She shook her head, having difficulty comprehending this.

Simon said to me, “And Randy’s remark to General Baldwin?”

“Sam had gone to a gay bar in Dupont Circle. He’d never been to one before. He got paranoid and left almost immediately, scared that someone he knew might see him. It turned out someone did. Randy was in the bar.”

“So that’s what set General Baldwin off? When Randy said he knew the general was a homosexual?”

“Yes.”

“Did General Baldwin tell anyone else he was gay?”

“Only me. He knew he could trust…me.” I had to will out the last word.

“Even though you know the military regulations expressly forbade gays from serving?”

This question came from Amanda. She was referring to the policy in place before Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, which prohibited even closeted homosexuals from being in the military.

I said, “He was my friend. I didn’t give a damn what the regs said. I couldn’t turn him in. I…couldn’t.”

She sat there, looking at me. I waited for her to criticize my decision. To characterize her politics as conservative was an understatement.

She smiled faintly.

Simon said to me, “I take it General Baldwin was never arrested or removed from the school?”

“I underestimated his family’s influence. His uncle and grandfather were major financial donors to the school. They pressured the administration and got the incident shelved. They also paid Randy a substantial sum to drop the assault charges.”

“Does General Baldwin’s family know he is gay?”

I shook my head. “He told them he’d walked into the bar by mistake. They believed him…or wanted to.”

“And the general explained away his rage by…”

“Telling them he was drunk and lost it, when Randy insinuated he was gay.” I shrugged.

Simon’s expression softened. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Martin…”

“No…”

“So I hesitate to ask my next question. It will be particularly difficult. It requires you to be completely objective. Forget that General Baldwin is a close friend—”

“He isn’t anymore.”

His eyebrows went up. So did Amanda’s.

“It’s what I was alluding to earlier. Ever since he told me he was gay, our relationship has never been the same. Sam’s a proud man. He was raised to be proud. He couldn’t handle the shame that he felt being around me, knowing I was aware of his secret. He believed it made him a lesser person in my eyes. It didn’t, but I could never convince him of that.” I shrugged. “It was easier for him to pull back, stay away. So that’s what happened. He stayed away.”

Nods of understanding. Amanda bit her lip, seeming to fight her emotions. If she kept this up, she was going to lose her ice-princess title.

Her eyes drifted to the red walls and remained there with a quizzical frown. I knew what was bugging her and answered her question before she could voice it. Yes, I said, General Baldwin was also a Catholic and, yes, I had made the remark about the red color suggesting hell because of something he once told me. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time.”

I hesitated because this was again something I’d promised never to tell anyone. Of course, it didn’t matter anymore. I’d already broken my word.

So I told her and Simon about the turmoil Sam experienced when he first realized he was gay. He was only sixteen at the time and desperate to talk to someone about it. Knowing he couldn’t risk confiding in family or friends, he went to the one person he could trust—his priest. According to Sam, his priest listened sympathetically, but regretfully informed him that the church was quite clear about his fate if he ever acted upon his urges.

He would go to Hell.

Since then, Sam has lived with the certainty that he was a spiritual time bomb. That’s one reason he tried so hard to change, got married, all the rest of it. He was determined to save his soul. His efforts failed because he couldn’t deny his biological reality and he has accepted the fact that he’s damned. The realization terrifies him. He doesn’t want to go to Hell.

“Anyway,” I said, “I’m pretty certain we’re dealing with a similar fear in Talbot’s case. As religious as he was, it’s not beyond reason to believe he painted his bedroom red as a reminder of the consequences for engaging in homosexual sex.” I shrugged. “Maybe he thought it might stop him from acting upon his urges. Who knows?”

Amanda nodded slowly. “Perceptive, Martin.” Simon said quietly.

He agreed with me because his experiences as a seminary student had probably led him to conclude much of what I said.

Amanda said, “And the white bed?”

I shook my head; I didn’t even have a guess.

“Purify,” Simon said. “At some level, I suspect he was trying to purify what he was doing. Hoping to forestall or possibly alter a damnation that he believed was inevitable.”

This could be psychobabble bullshit, not that we’d ever know. What we
did
know, however, was that Major Talbot was a troubled gay man.

For several moments, we were quiet, staring at the stark whiteness of the bed.

Simon changed the subject and addressed me apologetically. “Ah, Martin, with regard to General Baldwin, I have to know whether—”

“I believe Sam could have killed Major Talbot.”

“Yes.”

I measured my response. Simon wanted me to be objective and I was trying to do my best. I knew that Sam was capable of rages and would do almost anything to protect his family’s name.

And yet…

“No,” I said. “My instinct says no. If Talbot had been beaten to death in a drunken rage, that would be one thing. But we’re talking about a calculated, cold-blooded murder. Sam doesn’t have that in him. He’s not capable of—”

At that moment, the door flew open and Enrique barged into the room. He was breathing hard as if he’d been running. “You better come on down, Simon. It’s almost here. It surprised the hell out of us when we saw it. We thought he was driving. How come you didn’t tell us? We barely have time to organize a security perimeter.”

“Tell you what?” Simon asked.

Before Enrique could reply, we heard a rhythmic beating sound. It was faint, barely audible. Still we recognized it immediately.

It was a helicopter.