The General's Daughter (32 page)

Fowler seemed a little disappointed. He inquired, “What’s keeping you from acting on the evidence you have?”

“There’s not enough of it, Colonel.”

“There seems to be.”

“Did Colonel Kent tell you that?”

“Yes… and you indicated that the forensic evidence put Colonel Moore at the scene of the crime.”

“Right. But it’s a matter of times, motive, and ultimately the nature of the act itself. I have probable cause to believe
Colonel Moore was somehow involved with what happened out there, but I can’t say he acted alone, or even with malice, or indeed
that he can be charged with murder in the first degree. I feel that I have to perfect a case against him, rather than just
arrest him and throw the case onto the court.”

“I see. Do you think he would confess?”

“You never know until you ask.”

“When will you ask?”

“I usually ask when the suspect and I are both ready for that kind of conversation. In this case, I may wait until the clock
runs out.”

“All right. Do you need the assistance of the post CID?”

“I’ve been informed that Major Bowes was also a lover of the deceased.”

“That’s hearsay.”

“That’s right. But if I—no, Colonel, if
you
ask him on his honor as an officer, he will probably tell you the truth. In any case, since we may never know for sure, and
since it’s come up, he has to disqualify himself from this case. And I don’t want to deal with the people under his command,
either.”

“I’m sensitive to that, Mr. Brenner, but a vague accusation—even a confession of sexual involvement with the victim—does not
automatically disqualify Major Bowes from the investigation.”

“I think it does. And I think it puts him on the B or C list of suspects until I hear his alibi or lack of same. And on that
subject, Colonel, if you’re finished, may I begin my interview with you?”

Colonel Fowler poured himself another cup of coffee with a rock-steady hand. The sun was higher now and the screened porch
was a little darker. My stomach was gurgling with coffee and not much else, and my mind was not as alert as it should have
been. I glanced at Cynthia and thought she looked better than I felt, but this high-noon deadline meant having to choose between
sleep, sex, food, and work. Plan B.

Colonel Fowler asked, “Can I offer you breakfast?”

“No, thank you, Colonel.”

He looked at me and said, “Fire away.”

I opened fire. “Were you sexually involved with Ann Campbell?”

“No.”

“Do you know anyone who was?”

“Colonel Kent has told you he was. I won’t mention any other names since to do so seems to put them on your suspect list.”

“Okay, let’s go right to the list—do you know of anyone who might have had a motive for killing her?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Did you know that General Campbell’s junior aide, Lieutenant Elby, was infatuated with her?”

“Yes, I did. That’s not uncommon, nor was it unwise of him to pay attention to his commanding officer’s daughter. They were
both single, attractive, and officers. Marriages actually evolve from these situations.” Colonel Fowler added, “I give the
young man credit for balls.”

“Amen. But did she return his attentions?”

Colonel Fowler thought a moment, then replied, “She never returned any man’s attentions. She initiated all the attention,
and ended it when it pleased her.”

“That’s a rather startling statement from you, Colonel.”

“Oh, please, Mr. Brenner, you know all of this by now. I’m not trying to protect her reputation from you two. The woman was
a… God, I wish I could come up with the right word… more than a seductress, not a tease—she delivered—not a common slut…”
He looked at Cynthia. “Give me a word.”

Cynthia replied, “I don’t think we have a word for what she was, except perhaps avenger.”

“Avenger?”

Cynthia said, “She wasn’t the victim of rumor, as you first tried to suggest, and she wasn’t promiscuous in the conventional
sense, and neither was she clinically a nymphomaniac. She was, in fact, using her charms and her body to exact a revenge,
Colonel, and you know it.”

Colonel Fowler did not seem pleased with this evaluation. I suspected that Colonel Kent had given him only an edited briefing
of what he’d told us and failed to include the fact that Ann Campbell’s sexual behavior had a specific purpose, and that the
purpose was to make Daddy look like a horse’s ass. Colonel Fowler said to Cynthia, “She did hate the Army.”

Cynthia replied, “She hated her father.”

Fowler seemed, for the first time, uncomfortable. The man was a cool customer, and his armor was tried and tested, and so
was his sword, but Cynthia just informed him that his rear was exposed. Fowler said, “The general truly loved his daughter.
Please believe that. But she had developed an obsessive and unreasonable hate for him. In fact, I spoke to an outside psychologist
about it, and though he couldn’t analyze the dynamics from afar, he did suggest that the daughter might be suffering from
a borderline personality disorder.”

Cynthia commented, “From what I’ve heard so far, it doesn’t sound so borderline.”

“Well, who the hell knows what these people mean? I couldn’t follow all he was saying, but it comes down to the fact that
the children of powerful men who try to follow in the father’s footsteps become frustrated, then go through a period of questioning
their own worth, then eventually to preserve their ego they find something they can do well, something very different from
their father’s world, where they will not be in direct competition with him, but something that society considers important.
Thus, according to this psychologist, many of them wind up in social work, or as teachers, even nurses or some other nurturing
profession.” Colonel Fowler added, “Including psychology.”

I remarked, “Psychological warfare is not exactly a nurturing profession.”

“No, which is where this analysis diverts from the norm. This psychologist told me that when the son or daughter remains in
the father’s world, it’s often because they want to harm the father. They can’t compete, they won’t or can’t go off on their
own, so they stay close to the source of their anger and engage in what amounts to guerrilla warfare, ranging from petty annoyances
to major sabotage.”

He thought a moment, then added, “They do this because it is the only way they can avenge—yes, as you said, Ms. Sunhill—avenge
themselves over these imagined injustices or whatever. In Captain Campbell’s case, she was in a unique position to do this.
Her father couldn’t fire her, and she had developed a power base of her own. Many sons and daughters who have these feelings
against their father, according to this psychologist, engage in promiscuous behavior, drunkenness, gambling, and other antisocial
acts that they know will embarrass the authority figure in his world. Captain Campbell, perhaps as a result of her knowledge
in the field of psychology, took it a step further, and apparently sought to seduce the men around her father.”

Colonel Fowler leaned across the table and said to us, “I hope you understand that Ann’s behavior was irrational, and that
it had nothing to do with her father’s behavior toward her. We all have imagined enemies, and when it’s a parent, no amount
of parental love or caring can overcome that anger in the child’s mind. This was a very disturbed woman who needed help, and
she wasn’t getting it. In fact, that son-of-a-bitch Moore was fueling the flames of her anger for his own sick purposes. I
believe he wanted to see how far he could push and control the dynamics of this situation.”

No one spoke for a full minute, then Cynthia inquired, “Why wasn’t some drastic action taken by the general? Isn’t this the
man who led an armored task force to the Euphrates River?”

Colonel Fowler replied, “
That
was easy. Handling Ann Campbell was not so easy. Actually, the general considered such action about a year ago. But according
to the professional advice I was getting, had the general intervened by having Colonel Moore transferred, for instance, or
having Ann ordered into therapy, which he could do as a commander, the situation may have gotten worse. So the general listened
to this advice and let the situation take its own course.”

I commented, “And it wouldn’t have done the general’s career much good to pull rank on Moore and his daughter. and thereby
admit there was a problem.”

Colonel Fowler replied, “It was a very delicate situation. Mrs. Campbell… Ann’s mother thought that the situation would improve
if Ann was left to vent her irrational anger. So it was a standoff. But the general
had
decided to act, just a week ago. But then… well, it was too late.”

“How,” I inquired, “did the general decide to act?”

Colonel Fowler thought a moment and replied, “I don’t know if telling you anything further is relevant to this case.”

“Tell me and I’ll decide.”

“Well… all right, then. The general, a few days ago, gave his daughter an ultimatum. He gave her options. Option one was to
resign her commission. Option two was to discontinue her duties at the school and agree to some sort of therapy of the general’s
choice—inpatient or out. Option three, the general informed her that if she turned down those options, he would have the staff
judge advocate investigate her misconduct and draw up charges for a general court-martial.”

I nodded. Somehow, I felt, this ultimatum, if it was true, precipitated what happened on rifle range six. I asked Colonel
Fowler, “How did she respond to this ultimatum?”

“She told her father she’d have an answer for him within two days. But she didn’t. She was murdered.”

I said, “Maybe that was her answer.”

Colonel Fowler looked somewhat startled. “What do you mean by that?”

“Think about it, Colonel.”

“You mean she had Colonel Moore assist her in some sort of bizarre suicide?”

“Perhaps.” I asked him, “And there is no single or specific incident from the past that would explain Captain Campbell’s anger
toward her father?”

“Such as what?”

“Such as… rival affections—mother, daughter, that sort of thing.”

Colonel Fowler regarded me closely for a moment as if I were a step away from crossing the line between a murder investigation
and an unspeakable breach of conduct and ethics. He replied coolly, “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Mr. Brenner, and
I suggest you don’t even try to explain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that all?”

“I’m afraid not. It gets even muckier, Colonel. You say you had no sexual relationship with the deceased. Why not?’

“What do you mean, why not?”

“I mean, why did she not proposition you, or if she did, did you turn her down?”

Colonel Fowler’s eyes flitted to the door for a second as if to assure himself that Mrs. Fowler was not around to hear this.
He replied, “She never propositioned me.”

“I see. Was that because you’re black or because she knew it was a useless attempt?”

“I… I would rather think it was… She did date a few black officers… not here at Hadley, but in the past, so it wasn’t that.
So I’d have to say that she knew…” He smiled for the first time. “… she knew I was not corruptible.” He added, again with
a smile, “Or she thought I was ugly.”

Cynthia said, “But you’re not, Colonel, and even if you were, it wouldn’t have mattered to Ann Campbell. I suspect she
did
proposition you, and you turned her down out of loyalty to your wife, your commanding officer, or because of your own sense
of morality. At that point, you became Ann Campbell’s second worst enemy.”

Fowler had clearly had enough and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this in my life.”

I replied, “You’ve probably never been involved in a homicide investigation.”

“No, I haven’t, and if you would make that arrest, this investigation would be over.”

“Actually, it would continue right up to and through a court-martial. I don’t make many mistakes, Colonel, but when I think
I may have, I don’t mind working hard to expose my own errors.”

“I commend you, Mr. Brenner. Perhaps, though, Colonel Moore can satisfy your doubts.”

“He can try, but he may have his own version of events. I like to have everyone’s version so I can make a better evaluation
as to the quality of the bullshit.”

“As you wish.’

Cynthia asked him, “Did Captain Campbell have any brothers or sisters?”

“There is a brother.”

“What can you tell us about him?”

“He lives out on the West Coast. Some place with a Spanish name. Can’t think of it.”

“He’s not military?”

“No. He’s… he has explored many careers.”

“I see. You’ve met him?”

“Yes. He comes home most holidays.”

“Does he strike you as suffering from the same problems you suggested his sister was suffering from?”

“To some extent… but he chose to distance himself from the family. That’s how he deals with it. During the Gulf War, for instance,
when some California TV station wanted to interview him, they couldn’t find him.”

Cynthia asked, “Would you describe him as alienated from his parents?”

“Alienated? No… just distant. When he’s home, they all seem quite happy to see him, and then sad that he’s left.”

“And how was the relationship between brother and sister?”

“Very good, from what I could see. Ann Campbell was very accepting of him.”

“In regard to his… what? His life-style?”

“Yes. John Campbell—that’s his name—is gay.”

“I see. And did General Campbell accept this?”

Fowler thought a moment, then replied, “I think he did. John Campbell was always discreet—never brought male lovers home,
dressed pretty much mainstream and all that. I think if the general hadn’t had his hands full with his daughter and her indiscretions,
he might have been more disappointed in his son. But compared to Ann, John is a solid citizen.”

“I understand,” Cynthia said. “Do you think that General Campbell perhaps pushed his daughter into a traditional male role—I
mean West Point and the Army—to make up for his son’s lack of interest in those pursuits?”