A Slow Walk to Hell (29 page)

G
eneral Sam Baldwin’s tall frame filled the doorway, a small automatic in his hand. He wore tan slacks, cordovan loafers, and a navy sports coat embroidered with his family crest. Despite his preppy attire, he looked like hell. His lean face appeared puffy and haggard and there were dark bags under his eyes. Focusing on me, he said, “I’m sorry, Marty. I have to do this.”

My shock gave way to cold rage. “You fucking son of a bitch. You were part of it, all along. You used me.”

“Marty…Marty…” Sam shook his head dismissively. “You’re something. You really are. I thought you were supposed to be a bright detective.”

“Coller,” I said. “You killed Coller. It had to be you. It couldn’t be anyone else.”

The head shaking stopped. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“They threatened to release the tape unless you took out Coller. So you did it. Blew him away. You couldn’t have it get out that a Baldwin was anything but a perfect soldier. After all, what would your father think when he realized his own son was—”

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t say it.”

I looked right at him, saw his shame.

“Gay,” I announced loudly. “You’re gay, Sam. Everyone here knows it. Pretty soon, the entire country will know it. Guess what? No one’s going to give a damn who you slept with. You’re a murderer. A goddamn murderer who—”

“Shut the hell up, Marty.”

“You going to shoot us all? Forget it. One of us will take you out. It was all for nothing, Sam. Ironic, huh? People are going to remember the Baldwin name, all right. Not because you’re gay, but because—”

“I said shut up.”

I’d pushed him too far. His temper kicked in and he looked as mad as I’d ever seen him. His lip was curled into a snarl and he was shaking with rage. He pointed the gun at me and for an instant, I thought he was going to shoot me.

“You goddamn son of a bitch. You have no right. You don’t understand—”

The bullet.

I kept waiting for the impact of the bullet. My only chance to go for my gun. I reached down, hoping Sam kept talking long enough—

“Stop!”

We both froze, looking to Simon. He was glaring at us. Beside him, I noticed Amanda had placed her fingers on her weapon, ready to take Sam out if that proved necessary.

But Enrique’s hand wasn’t anywhere near his holster. And he appeared completely relaxed. That threw me. Enrique was was usually the one who was spring-loaded to react first and ask question later. It was as if he didn’t understand the threat Sam posed—

“Stop it, both of you,” Simon said. He swung around to me. “You’re mistaken. General Baldwin killed no one.”

I stared at him as if he was certifiable. “Simon, it had to be him. Teresa Harris couldn’t have killed Coller. We know it wasn’t Colonel Kelly. That leaves only—”

“It wasn’t General Baldwin.”

I pointed to my ear. “And
this?
You said the shooter was trying to miss me, us. That only makes sense if the shooter was Sam.”

“You’re wrong, Martin. It wasn’t him. The general is here only because I asked him to come.”

“Huh?”

Simon nodded to Crenshaw, who was cowering behind the desk. “General Baldwin might have been of use in gaining access to the grounds, had Mr. Crenshaw not cooperated.”

My eyes were on Sam. He was nodding, his anger dropping below the homicidal level.

This was all coming in too fast for me to understand. Before I could voice my next question, Amanda beat me to it. “What about the
gun?
Why does General Baldwin have a gun?”

Simon had no answer. He told Sam to put his gun down.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Sam said, keeping his weapon level. “It’s insurance.”

“For?”

“I can’t allow you to destroy more lives. Franklin wouldn’t have wanted that. It’s why they killed him. He was going to expose all this.” He looked right at the tapes on the desk.

His message was clear. A tense silence filled the room. We watched Simon, knowing he couldn’t agree.

“I take it,” he said, “that you intend to destroy the tapes.”

“Not all of them, Lieutenant. I realize you need the ones on Major Talbot and Mrs. Harris to prove your case. You keep those; I destroy the rest and the ledger.” He glanced at the computer on Crenshaw’s desk. “I also erase the membership list stored on there.”

“If I refuse…”

Sam shifted his gun until it was aimed at Simon’s chest. “I’m not asking, Lieutenant.”

Again my eyes went to Enrique, who still appeared calm. It made no sense. Simon was being threatened. Why wouldn’t he display some concern or at least—

And then the reason came to me in a sudden moment of clarity.

Simon’s gaze rose from Sam’s gun to his face. “You’re destroying evidence, General. It will make proving the case more difficult.”

“You’ll have the crucial tapes and my testimony. Once you apply the pressure, those involved will crack. It’s already worked with Crenshaw. Slater will do the same thing. That bastard doesn’t want to go down for five murders. You’ll get your conviction, Lieutenant. I promise you.”

Simon looked conflicted. He obviously didn’t want to agree to Sam’s terms. At least that’s how I read him until I detected something on Enrique’s face that shouldn’t have been there. It was the suggestion of a smile.

My suspicion evolved into a certainty.

By now, Amanda had also noticed Enrique’s reaction. She was frowning, cycling through explanations. Her eyebrows crawled up when she got a hit. She became aware of me watching her and our eyes met. A tacit question.

Would Simon arrange this, Marty?

My head dipped. As a cop, it would have been difficult for him to explain why he’d willingly destroyed evidence. The operative word was, willingly. Now he could put the blame on Sam, with no one the wiser.

Ethics 101, according to Simon. He had no desire to destroy innocent people’s reputations and now he wouldn’t have to.

Amanda didn’t appear angry over Simon’s deception. I wasn’t either. We both realized that he’d kept us in the dark in order to protect us, should his ruse ever come to light.

Simon made a big show of conveying his reluctance to give in. He shifted between a series of unhappy grimaces and regretful head shakes. Finally, he threw up his hands, as if being forced to concede.

“You win, General.”

Sam wasn’t much of a thespian. He nodded stiffly and swung the gun around to Crenshaw. “David, do you keep copies of the tapes stored anywhere else but here?”

Crenshaw fixated on the barrel. He tried to speak and coughed instead. “No.”

“If you’re lying…”

“I’m not. The only copies that exist are ones Mr. Slater sent to the individuals.”

“He doesn’t have any copies of his own?”

“No. He only makes them when he needs them.”

Sam raised the gun to his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Crenshaw’s body spasmed in panic.
“Why the hell would I lie?”

Sam contemplated Crenshaw’s trembling form. “How many computers contain memberships rosters?”

“Mine and Sally’s. My secretary’s. That’s her desk outside.” Crenshaw couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“No central database?”

“Too risky. Anyone who worked here could download the information, so Mr. Slater—”

Sam abruptly turned away from Crenshaw and asked, “Who’s good with computers?”

“I am,” Amanda said, after a moment.

“Here.” Sam passed her a CD-ROM he’d slipped from his jacket.

She read the label. It was a program to scramble the data stored on hard drives. She sat down at Crenshaw’s computer and inserted the CD.

Sam dug out car keys from his pocket and tossed them to Enrique. “The green Caddy. There’s a bag containing lighter fluid, in the back seat. Get it.”

“First,” Simon said, “I’d like him to remove the tapes we’re keeping.”

“Fine.”

While Simon retrieved the Harris tape from the VCR, Enrique gathered the four Talbot videos from the desk. I never believed Sam would allow Enrique to walk out with the video of him and Talbot.

But as Enrique departed with the tapes, Sam never said a word.

He eased into a chair, the gun still trained on us. I thought this part was overdone, but I understood why he was doing it. He wanted to make it look good.

“How long will it take?” he asked Amanda.

“A few minutes to upload the program in each computer, General. Another thirty minutes or so to scramble all the files.”

By the time she finished uploading the program on the secretary’s computer, Enrique had returned and we’d placed the remaining videotapes in a cardboard box.

“Let’s go boys and girls,” Sam said.

The bar had an enormous stone fireplace, one that actually burned wood.

Under Sam’s watchful eye, Enrique layered the videos on top of several logs. After dousing the tapes with lighter fluid, he set them ablaze and moved aside. Sam came forward and stared into the smoky flames. Facing us, we saw his shoulders sag and tension escape his body. This had been important to him, something he’d been compelled to do.

“This was Franklin’s goal,” he said quietly. “Before exposing what was going on, he wanted to force Slater to turn over the tapes to us. To prevent anyone else from being hurt.”

We all nodded our understanding.

Simon said, “Now tell us everything you know, General.”

“There’s one more thing I have to do. It’ll only take a second.”

Stepping around us, Sam walked over to Crenshaw. He gave him a big smile right up until the moment he punched him flush in the jaw. Crenshaw dropped in a heap, out before he hit the floor. Sam stood over his still form, watching the blood ooze from a cut in Crenshaw’s lip. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

“Do you believe he was aware of the murders?” Simon asked.

“No. Crenshaw’s weak. Slater knew he wouldn’t have the stomach for it.” He passed his gun to Simon. “I’m ready, Lieutenant. You want to do this back in the office?”

“Please.”

Sam made a couple of false starts, as if he wanted to say something to me. Unable to voice the words, he left the room.

As we followed him out, Simon said to me, “I misjudged him. He’s a good man. He deserves our respect.”

His way of telling me I should consider apologizing first.

Simon wanted to get Sam’s account on tape, so while Enrique revived Crenshaw and helped him to his suite upstairs, I went out to the limo and retrieved the small cassette recorder.

Returning to the office, I found everyone except Enrique seated in the waiting area of the anteroom. Since all the chairs were taken, I set the recorder on the coffee table and stood against the wall, near where Sam was sitting.

His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, ignoring me. Several uncomfortable seconds passed, as I tried to figure out how to break the ice. When nothing came to mind, I went with the way I felt.

“I’m sorry, Sam. About everything.”

At first nothing. Then Sam’s head tilted up and I saw the beginnings of a smile. “That makes two of us,” he said with feeling.

“Look, a lot of the stuff I said—”

“We both made mistakes. Said things we shouldn’t.”

“So we’re okay?”

His smiled widened. “We’re getting there.”

For a moment, the years disappeared and we were back at Virginia Tech. Two young men filled with the hope and promise of the future that awaited us. It was an image I wanted to preserve.

But when I blinked, I’d returned to the present and the reality of what we were facing.

Sam squeezed my arm and something caught in my throat. At the start of the case, I’d hoped to keep him out of it, but that wouldn’t happen now. He would be our chief witness, which meant the world would soon learn that a Baldwin was gay. The reaction would be swift. Some would empathize and understand, but most wouldn’t. He would be the butt of jokes, his family ridiculed.