Liz took the form, read it over, and nodded. Thompson filled out the top part, and Julie signed. Round one to the petite lady lawyer, Jim thought.
“Now that we’ve agreed on the ground rules,” Liz said, “let’s go back on the record.”
Branner rolled her eyes, clearly thinking this was all lawyer nonsense. She punched the recorder back on and announced resumption of the interview.
“Midshipman Markham, do you know how Midshipman Dell came to be in possession of your underwear?”
Julie looked at Liz, who nodded. “No,” she answered.
“Do you have any idea of how he might have obtained the panties?”
Julie again looked at Liz, who leaned in close and murmured. “Laundry.”
“The laundry might have done it,” Julie said. “All our clothes are marked with a laundry number, but we often get back items belonging to other midshipmen.”
“Have you ever gotten back male underwear?” Thompson asked.
Liz nodded, and Julie said, “No.”
“Did you have or have you ever had an intimate relationship with Midshipman Dell?”
“No.”
“Did you know Midshipman Dell in any capacity?”
“Yes.”
“Which was? For the record, please.”
Liz nodded again, and Julie described plebe summer and the fact that Dell had been in her battalion.
“Was Dell a homosexual?”
Julie blinked. “I don’t know.”
“Were there rumors to that effect within the battalion?”
“I don’t know,” Julie said before Liz could give the signal to answer. Liz wrote a note down on her notebook and showed it to Julie. Jim figured it probably said not to answer until instructed to. Julie flushed and nodded.
“Midshipman Markham, do you know of anyone in your battalion who might have wanted to harm Midshipman Dell?”
Liz nodded. “No,” Julie replied.
“Did anyone in your battalion have it in for Dell? Want him out of the Academy?”
Liz nodded, but Julie paused, as if thinking about the question. “There was a sense among the upperclassmen that Dell was a little weak. That he might not make it.”
“Was there any one person or persons who said that a lot? That Dell ought not to make it?”
Julie thought for a moment, looked at Liz, then said, “No.”
“Where were you when Dell went off the roof?” Thompson asked.
Liz put her hand on Julie’s arm. “Why are you asking that question?” she said.
“To establish Midshipman Markham’s whereabouts at the time of the incident,” Branner said. “For the record.” Jim realized then that Branner and Thompson had rehearsed and agreed on the line of questioning. If they’d done that, then they were case building. He began to pay more attention.
“You may answer that,” Liz said to Julie.
“I was in my rack. Bed. In my room. Asleep.”
“Had you been in your room all night?” Thompson asked.
Julie looked at Liz, who nodded. Julie hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, “Yes.”
Branner consulted her notes. Jim wondered if maybe Markham hadn’t wanted to answer that question. But had the NCIS people picked up on her hesitation?
“Midshipman Markham, this is a question we have to ask, for the record. It’s actually two questions. One, did you kill Midshipman Dell?”
“No!” Julie protested in a loud voice. She hadn’t even looked at Liz, who once again put her hand on Julie’s arm. This time, she squeezed.
“And the second question is this: Have you done anything, anything at all, in the entire time you have known Midshipman Dell, that might have contributed to his death?”
“My client will not answer that question,” Liz announced before Markham could say anything.
“Why not?” Branner asked.
“Neither she nor I has to explain our decision,” Liz said. “Next question?”
Branner leaned forward, looking directly at Julie. “You understand, Midshipman Markham, that by not answering that question, you necessarily draw our attention to you?”
“Let the record show that Midshipman Markham’s attorney considers Agent Branner’s last statement a threat and has therefore decided to terminate this interview.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. I withdraw that statement. It’s just-”
“Next substantive question?” Liz said, keeping her hand on Julie’s arm.
Branner sat back in her chair and slowly tapped her pen on the edge of the table. She glanced at her notebook. “You are on the women’s varsity swim team?”
“Yes.”
“Was Midshipman Dell connected in any way with the swim team?”
Liz cocked her head at Julie, then nodded. “Yes,” Julie said. “He was one of the managers.”
“Managers?”
“It’s not like in pro sports,” Julie said. “All midshipmen are required to participate in intramural sports, and they are encouraged to try out for varsity sports. Plebes, too. If you try out but eventually get cut, you can sometimes stay on with the team as a manager, a helper bee. They carry equipment bags, act as timers, unload luggage from the bus, stuff like that.”
It looked to Jim like this was all news to the lady lawyer, who was taking notes for the first time.
“Would you have had contact with Dell in his capacity as a manager on the swim team?”
Liz nodded. “Not really,” Julie said. “He would be helping out with the plebe swimmers, not the upperclassmen. Besides, he was a diver, not a swimmer.”
“Does the team travel as a group to away swim meets?”
“Yes.”
“But you had no contact with Dell?” This from Thompson.
“He was a plebe. I’m a firstie, a senior. I might talk to or coach another plebe swimmer who swam my own event, but not plebe managers.”
“Would he show up for practice sessions here at the Academy?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Does the team practice every day?”
“During the competition season, yes.”
“So it would be fair to say that you had daily contact with Midshipman Dell during the competition swimming season?” Branner asked, a tiny gleam of triumph in her eye. But the lawyer was ready.
“Don’t answer that,” Liz instructed. Julie said nothing.
“Why not?” Branner asked.
“Because I didn’t like the way you phrased that, Agent Branner. Plus, she’s already told you that she had little or no contact with Dell, that he helped out with the plebe members of the team, not the seniors.”
Branner started to say something, tapped her pencil three times, and then Thompson picked up the questions. Definitely rehearsed, Jim thought.
“Is the swim team a close-knit organization?” he asked.
Liz nodded. “Fairly close,” Julie said. “I mean, we all cheer one another on during the various events. We practice two, sometimes three hours a day, early in the morning and again after class. Swimming is extremely competitive, both within and among the teams.”
“Do the women on the swim team tend to hang out with the men on the swim team?”
Julie looked at Liz, who hesitated but then nodded. “Some do,” she said. “But most midshipmen date outside of the Academy.”
“How about you?”
Liz told her not to answer that. “That’s not germane here,” she declared.
Thompson, unlike Branner, appeared to take that in stride. “Okay. Do you know if Dell formed any close associations on the swim team?”
“No,” Julie said before Liz could give her permission.
“No, what? No he didn’t, or no, you don’t know?”
“No, I don’t know. He was a plebe. He wouldn’t have much time for dating in any event. And never an upperclassman.”
Thompson consulted his notes. Liz tapped Julie on the arm and pointed to her previous note about answering ques
tions. Julie nodded and mouthed the word sorry.
“Are plebes allowed to date upperclassmen?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are plebes allowed to date anybody?”
“Dahlgren dates on Saturdays,” Julie said. “There are lots of rules. You really have to want to be with someone.”
“Did Dell date anyone that you know of?”
“Don’t know,” Julie said. “He was a plebe. Unless he was in my company, I wouldn’t know and wouldn’t care.”
Thompson nodded equably. “I’m done,” he said, looking to Branner.
“I’m not,” she said. “Midshipman Markham, are you involved romantically with anyone here at the Academy now?”
“She’s still not going to answer that, Agent Branner.”
“I think it might be pertinent to our investigation,” Branner snapped.
“Then go find out by yourselves,” Liz replied. “But based on the tone and drift of this interview, I’m assuming certain things about your view of my client.”
“Such as?” Branner snapped.
“Meaning that I think you’re investigating her, not Dell. So from now on out, there won’t be any more of these interviews. Is that understood?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Branner said, her voice rising. Jim watched with growing interest. “We have the authority to interview Midshipman Markham anytime we please, as long as we execute the Article Thirty-one form. This is military law we’re talking about.”
“Fine,” Liz said. “You can, of course, interview her all you want, but she’ll have nothing to say, will she? Nor can you draw any inference from her silence, to which she is entitled under American law. As for now, this interview is concluded.”
Liz stood up and nudged a surprised Julie to do the same. She retrieved her recorder and indicated to Julie that she was to follow her. Neither agent said anything as the two women left the conference room. Jim saw Julie start to speak, but Liz put a finger to her lips until they had walked out of the commandant’s office area. Jim got up to stretch while Branner spoke into the recorder, stating that the interview was concluded. Then she turned it off. Branner swore.
“Wasn’t all that bad,” Thompson said.
Branner tossed her head impatiently. “Goddamned lawyers,” she said. “Mr. Hall, what was your take?”
“My job doesn’t involve real police work,” he said. “The only interviews I’ve seen are on television. That said, I think you hit the old blue-and-gold wall.”
“Is that like the cops’ big blue wall?” Thompson asked. “Like when Internal Affairs comes around?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Jim said. “I mean, I can’t feature one mid killing another for any reason. But there’s always been a cops and robbers atmosphere here, what with all the regulations, rules, laws, procedures. You ever heard the expression, You rate what you skate?”
“No,” Branner said, interested now.
“Well, it means basically that you can do what you can get away with. Usually applies to the chickenshit end of the book, as opposed to honor offenses and the serious stuff. And there’s a serious taboo against bilging a classmate. You know, ratting out.”
“She was a very uncooperative witness,” Branner said.
“For what it’s worth, I think the lady lawyer was right,” Jim said. “You kinda made it sound like Markham was a suspect, not a witness. There was one point, though-when you asked if she’d been in her room all night. I thought she hesitated.”
“Thought you said you hadn’t done interviews?” Branner said.
“You said you wanted my impressions. You just got one.”
Ev heard the phone ringing as he went up the back walk from his boat dock, but it went to voice mail before he got into the house. He’d gone out rowing on the Severn again to take advantage of an almost-perfect afternoon calm. The Academy’s varsity eights had swept by in a glorious echelon formation, but he hadn’t even tried to keep up. There was a message from Liz to please call her. He showered, changed clothes, and then made a drink. He called her back from the study. She told him that there had been another short-notice interview that afternoon, which is why she hadn’t had time to alert him beforehand.
“Interesting. So, how’d it go?”
“Just fair,” she said.
That got his attention. “Only fair?”
“Well, it was definitely adversarial. Part of that was a function of my MO when dealing with police interviews: I try real hard to control the flow, and I can be abrasive about it. Part of the problem was that Agent Branner. She came in with a pretty big chip on her shoulder.”
“But what were they looking for?”
“As I anticipated, some connection between Julie and Dell. Something besides the underwear thing. Julie did get it on the record that he could have obtained the underwear in a laundry mix-up. Apparently, that happens.”
“That’s true. Or it did in my day. Although they usually just lost it, period. Or sent it back full of holes. Is this a homicide?”
“They’re acting like it, and yet I’m not sure they’re sure.” She reviewed the questions and answers, and explained why she’d shut some of the questions off. “Based on some of the questions, I think they’re case building.”
“Against Julie?”
“Against whoever emerges out of the fog of evidence. With some cops, it’s often a toss-up as to whether they want to find the truth or just close the case. The latter outcome is often preferable.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Look, you said you wanted to help.”
Ev put down his drink. A mission. “Shoot,” he said.
“I learned some things today that neither you nor I knew. For starters, Dell was a manager on the swim team. Which means that Julie could have had daily contact with him during the competition season.”
“Wait a minute. He would have been working the plebe bench, so she-”
“Yes, Julie explained that. But in their words, she could have had daily contact with Dell. It is possible.”
“But hardly likely.”
“You understand that; I understand that. But a jury might not understand the system, the fact that plebes and firsties don’t associate, other than in the Sturm und Drang of plebe year.”
“O-kay, I guess I can see that.”
“You’re thinking like a human, Ev. I’m thinking like a lawyer.”
He chuckled. “Got it,” he said. “And my assignment?”
“I want to know more about Julie’s love life, if she has one.”
“Why don’t you just ask her?”
“I intend to. But I’d like you to corroborate and elaborate.”
“Well, as you observed, I might be the least informed in that area, and I don’t exactly pry. She is an adult, about to be a commissioned officer.” He moved his appointment book to make room for his drink, knocking the book off the table in the process.
“I know, Ev, but she talks to you. I’m just asking for some backup here.”
There was some frustration in Liz’s voice. Ev reached down to retrieve the book while he considered it. “Sure, Liz, I’ll try,” he said. “There’s Tommy Hays, of course, but I think he’s on the outs right now. I can make up a list of the kids she’s brought back here on weekends this past year. But I’m going to guess the swim team is the place to look. They’re together for hours a day in practice, and then at the away meets, long bus rides, parties after the meets in away towns.”
“Do they practice a lot?”
“Oh, hell yes. Actually, I was on the swim team when I went through. That’s where Julie gets it, probably. We used to get up before reveille, zero dark-thirty. Hit the pool until zero six-fifteen, then went back to our rooms for regular reveille and morning formation, then did it all again after class.”
“Really,” she said, and he heard something in her voice.
“What?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to bring this up, but they asked her where she was when D
ell died. She told them, asleep in her ‘rack,’ as she called it.”
“Rack, right. Mids love their racks.”
“Then they asked her if she’d been there all night.”
Well, of course, he thought. Then he understood. “Ah. And she said?”
“She said yes.”
“But you had the sense that she would have preferred not answering that question.”
“Right.”
Ev thought about that. “Well,” he said slowly, “if she’d gotten up for swim practice, then technically she was not in her room all night. Oh, I get it: If she wasn’t in her room, then she could have been what-throwing him out a window?”
“I know, I know, it’s ridiculous, but visualize the interview transcript being read into evidence: ‘Were you in your room all night?’ ‘No, I wasn’t. I was-’ ‘Thank you, Midshipman Markham, you’ve answered my question.’”
“Holy shit!”
“Cops. Case-building cops. That’s how they do it, Ev, which is why potential suspects do not go to interviews without their shysters.”
“Damn. Does she fully understand that?”
“I think she got a glimmer today, although she’s still resisting it. I told NCIS there wouldn’t be any more interviews. They can, of course, tell me to pound sand. If they detected what I detected, they’re going to pull the string on the early-morning swim practice routine. I’d like to know in advance.”
“Well, that’s easy enough. I’ll find out if there was early practice, and if she was there. I can do that through the Athletic Department. Although, the season’s over. And she’s graduating. I would guess they’re not doing that anymore.”
“I need to know, and then I’ll sort it out with Julie. And Ev? Let her call you. Let her tell you about the interview. I’m going to go through all of this with her. What I need from you is-”
“Right, ‘corroborate and elaborate.’”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “If you’re uncomfortable with this, I can do it on my own,” she said.
“Hell yes, I’m uncomfortable, but I want her protected. You’re the protector. It’s my job to help you.”
“Thank you. I do understand how you feel.” She paused. “There’s this eight-hundred-pound gorilla that’s beginning to materialize in the back of the room, isn’t there?”
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