Full Dress Gray

by Lucian K. Truscott

  “Gibson? How is he involved?”

  “Kerry said Percival’s been reporting to Gibson about the investigation into Dorothy’s death.”

  Jacey looked over at her mother. “Mom, what do you think of General Gibson?”

  Sam took a deep breath. “Your father is having a very hard time with him. General Gibson came to see him a little while ago. He objected to his cadets being questioned down at the Provost Marshal’s office.”

  “That was when Kerry questioned them about having sex with Dorothy, wasn’t it?” asked Jacey.

  “I think so.”

  “Why would Gibson be upset about that?”

  “Your father said Gibson told him he already knew what the cadets had done.”

  “What?”

  “Your father got really mad that Gibson hadn’t reported it to him.”

  “Mrs. Slaight, did Gibson give General Slaight an excuse? I mean, did he tell him why he hadn’t reported the sexual encounter between those guys and Dorothy?”

  “He said it wasn’t a disciplinary offense because the sex was consensual.”

  “Which is what Rose and those guys told him,” said Ash.

  “Ash, do you know what this means? Gibson’s taking their side.”

  “It looks that way.”

  “Gibson runs the Honor System, Ash. He’s in with them.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” called Mrs. Slaight.

  A uniformed MP walked in. “Cadet Prudhomme, I’ve been ordered to pick you up and take you to the Provost Marshal’s office. You’ll have to come with me.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “You have been charged with assault and battery. You are under apprehension.”

  Ash looked down at Jacey. Color was coming back to her cheeks, and she managed a little smile. “Go on, Ash. I’ll call Captain Patterson. He’ll meet you down there.”

  “He’s probably at the game.”

  “I’ve got his cell-phone number.”

  “I’ll be back, Jace. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I won’t.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. He felt a handcuff as it snapped around his wrist.

  “Is that really necessary, Sergeant?” asked Mrs. Slaight.

  “Orders, ma’am.”

  The cuff snapped around his other wrist. As the MP led Ash from the room, he heard Jacey’s mother. “It’s a miracle they can teach cadets to march in a straight line,” she said. “Everything else in this place is crooked.”

  KERRY REACHED the firebreak up in the hills behind Delafield Pond and was pleased to see that his MP squad had done their job. An area one hundred yards in diameter was cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape. Two MPs stood guard where the tape crossed the road. They picked it up and let Kerry’s staff car through. He parked down the hill from where he could see his guys working.

  His main forensics tech was a retired sergeant who had spent twenty years in the Military Police. Along the way he had picked up a degree at John Jay College down in New York. After he retired, he had held down a forensics job for several years somewhere in Pennsylvania, but as he described it, he got an itch to be close to the action and applied for a CID position. He’d been at West Point for two years. The fact that he’d been an MP there ten years previously was a great help. He was familiar with the lay of the place, and he knew the Academy ropes. His name was Lester Carl, one of those funny southern handles that sounded like two first names.

  Kerry called to him from the road. “Lester! Lead me down there, will you?”

  “Walk between those pieces of tape, Jim,” he called back.

  Sure enough, Lester had made a walkway out of two lines of yellow tape. Kerry walked down the path to a point about ten feet from the tree where Jacey had been tied. “What have you got for me?”

  Lester and the other guy, a young sergeant he was training, were both wearing white jumpsuits, surgical gloves, and fine-mesh hair nets. They had white plastic bags wrapped around their feet and tied off at midcalf. Lester walked over holding something in his hand.

  “We’ve taken plaster casts of damn near every footprint out here. This one belongs to Jacey Slaight. See the outline of the female cadet shoe?”

  “Yeah. How about the kids? You got theirs?”

  “Sure do. The boy was wearing cross-trainers. Easy to identify. The girl was wearing pumps with a short heel. We’ve already picked up their shoes and checked them against our casts. We can easily eliminate the kids’ and Jacey Slaight’s.”

  “How many others are there?”

  “Two. Both male. One was wearing some kind of sneaker. We got one really good cast with a spotless tread on it. We’ll have the make and size nailed today. The other was wearing shoes with a smooth bottom. If you gave me a guess, I’d say they were boat shoes, you know, moccasins. Top-Siders, maybe some other brand of boat shoe. They’re gonna be hard.”

  “Did you get a size on it?”

  “Yeah. It’s about a nine and a half, ten.”

  “What about fibers?”

  “See all the fallen branches? The place is alive with them.”

  “How does it look?”

  “We got the kids’ clothes, so we can do those matches. Same with Jacey Slaight’s. We recovered the blanket. It was still here.”

  “Let’s have a look at it.”

  Lester signaled the sergeant and he carried it over. It was an Army-issue olive-drab woolen blanket, fairly new.

  “We also picked up this.” Lester removed an evidence bag that he had tied to his belt. He reached inside and pulled out a man’s leather belt. “Eddie Bauer. It’s embossed on the back side. Size thirty-two.”

  “Must be five thousand of them.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a start.”

  “Any prints on it?”

  “Not a one.”

  “So where do you think we stand, Lester?”

  “Depends on what you came up with, Jim.”

  “We won’t know for a few days. I didn’t get any dirt or mud or leaves. We might pick up some microscopic shit, but I doubt it. It looks to me like they ditched everything.”

  “Smart little fuckers.”

  “I’ve got to get going. They’re picking up Prudhomme, on Percival’s orders. I want to be there when they haul him in.”

  “We’re getting ready to wrap up here. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Sure thing, Lester.” The crime scene would provide one source of forensic evidence. The suspects would hopefully provide the other. Criminal investigation was like an equation. The one side was supposed to match the other. When the two sources of evidence didn’t provide a match, there were problems.

  Kerry knew he had his work cut out for him, because he could already tell that nothing he had found in the New Jersey motel room was a match for what Lester had turned up.

  He was at one of those points in a case when you begin to wonder if you shouldn’t throw out the assumptions you’ve made and start over. As he took the turn at the bottom of the hill, he made up his mind.

  Those smart little fuckers are going down.

  CHAPTER 43

  * * *

  WHEN SLAIGHT took the call from Sam and learned that Percival had ordered the arrest of Prudhomme, he came close to driving down to the Provost Marshal’s office and ordering his release. But that would be command influence, which would run the risk of blowing the entire investigation, so he did what generals do when confronted with the various events that by law they are prevented from controlling. He sat in the chair behind his desk and steamed with frustration. Then he picked up the phone, called Bassett, and briefly explained what was going on. Bassett drove straight to his office.

  “I heard about Jacey. How is she?” he asked.

  “She’s pretty shaken up, but she’s stable. I think she’ll be okay.”

  Bassett sat down in a chair next to the desk. Out the window, clouds were gathering up the Hudson. There would be a hard rain within the hour. />
  “I want to know what I can do about Prudhomme, Cliff.”

  “Nothing right now. Let Patterson handle it. He’s the best guy I’ve got down there.”

  “I’ve got to wait until the Article Thirty-two?” he asked, referring to the military version of a grand jury hearing.

  “If it gets that far.”

  “And then I could throw out the charges.”

  “You could.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement.”

  “It’s not. You’ve got to watch your step, Ry. Prudhomme is charged with assault and battery. If Percival can convince Lombardi, he might get him to throw ‘intent to cause grievous bodily harm’ in there. I understand he used a steering-wheel lock on one of them.”

  “Yeah. Prudhomme’s from New Orleans. Jacey told me he grew up over a grocery in the French Quarter. I get the impression that his idea of a fair fight is one you win.”

  “The boy sounds like an infantryman to me.”

  Slaight laughed. “We ought to let him teach hand-to-hand combat, is what we ought to be doing, instead of charging him.”

  “One thing you can do is order him released from custody and returned to the barracks. That is entirely up to the commander. In the case of officers, they are never held in custody, and are usually remanded to their quarters. I’d take the position that cadets fall into that category.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “After you issue that order, I’d pull in my horns. Everyone’s going to know Prudhomme went after Rose and Favro because of Jacey. That she is your daughter is the most complicating factor you face. There may come a time, if things get that far along, that you’ll have to remove yourself from the case and turn it over to higher authority.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Have you heard from Gibson?”

  “No, and that seems a little strange, doesn’t it? I would have thought that he’d be all over this thing by now.”

  “Gibson is probably on the phone to Percival right now.”

  AN ICY rain blew in sheets against the window of room 112 at the Seaside Inn. Helen Messick threw back the comforter and walked to the window. “Hear that? It’s really blowing.” She parted the curtain. “Jack, I can see waves coming over the road!”

  General Gibson came up behind her and reached under her arms, pulling her against him. “It’s nothing. Let’s get back in bed.”

  “Wait. I see something.” She pressed her face close to the glass, looking down the street. “It’s a fire engine. There’s a police car right behind it.”

  “Come on, Helen. We haven’t got much time. I have to be at the Chancellor’s house in a few hours for the reception.”

  There was a loud screech and the sound of somebody testing a microphone. “Attention. This is the Seaside Fire Department. A mandatory evacuation has been ordered for all dwellings along Ocean Avenue. You have ten minutes to gather important papers and belongings and vacate. I say again. This is a mandatory evacuation order. You have ten minutes to vacate. A temporary shelter has been established at the Benjamin Franklin Junior High School on Pelican Avenue. Police Department personnel will conduct house-to-house inspections enforcing the evacuation. Get your belongings and move out.”

  “Jack, that’s us,” said Helen, pulling his hands from her breasts. She closed the curtain and turned to face him.

  “You think I drove all the way down here from Rutgers for nothing? This is bullshit. Come on. Get back in bed. I feel good today. We pounded Rutgers’s ass.”

  “Jack, they’ll be knocking on doors. We’ve got to get dressed and get out of here. You saw those waves! They’re swamping the street!”

  “Fuck the waves.”

  “Jack, be reasonable.” She leaned down, reaching for her panties.

  “We’ve got time. I need you.”

  She pulled her panties on and looked next to the bed for her hose. “You’re crazy. You don’t need me as bad as you need to get out of here. If the police come in here and find you undressed . . .”

  “Fuck them.”

  “You fuck them, Jack, ‘cause you’re not fucking me today. I’m getting out of here.” She slipped her dress over her head and stepped into her shoes. She switched on the table lamp, looking for her purse. He was sitting on the bed, naked. “I’m getting the car, Jack. Get dressed.”

  He stood up. “What are you? Eager to get back to your husband and that queer boyfriend of his?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing here with you. This is crazy.”

  “You want a real man. What’s so crazy about that?”

  She had her car keys in her hand. “I’m serious, Jack. Get dressed. I’m ready to leave.”

  “Are you threatening to leave me here?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see we’re in danger? There’s a storm out there!”

  “Danger? You don’t know the definition of the word.” He put on his shorts and his shirt and stepped into his pants. He sat down to put on his shoes. “The problem with you is, you’re forgetting what I told you about our arrangement. You come when I call. You do what I say, or your little world is going to come crashing down around you.”

  He was pulling on his coat when she threw the chain on the door. The nor’easter bearing down on the coast of New Jersey blew her purse off her shoulder, and a lamp crashed to the floor behind her. The tall spruce at the corner snapped at the base of its trunk, falling across power lines, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

  He pushed her out the door into the driving rain. She opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel. He slid in beside her and grabbed her hand. “I’m just going to say this once. Move over. I’m driving. You’re going to suck my big cock.”

  CAPTAIN PATTERSON was following standard defense tactics when he counseled Ash not to respond to Lieutenant Colonel Percival’s questions. What he had not anticipated was the Provost Marshal’s reaction.

  “I will be making a report to Colonel Lombardi about your performance today, Captain Patterson. You might consider that you will still be an Army officer when the Prudhomme matter is disposed of.”

  “Are you threatening me, sir?” asked Patterson, trying not to show his astonishment.

  “Let’s just say I’m reminding you that as a captain, you have quite a few years to go before qualifying for retirement.”

  “I am well aware of my date of rank, sir.”

  “Then we understand each other perfectly.”

  “No, we do not, sir. You have attempted to intimidate me into encouraging Mr. Prudhomme to cooperate in his own prosecution. Make whatever reports you want, Colonel Percival. I categorically reject your threat.”

  “I have not threatened you, Captain.”

  Patterson reached for his overcoat and hat. “Our business is finished, Colonel Percival. Good afternoon, sir.”

  On his way back to Building 606, Patterson ran into Colonel Bassett coming out of the Headquarters Building. He told Patterson about Percival’s threat and was surprised when he laughed.

  “Percival is a cop. He doesn’t give a damn about your client’s rights except as they interfere with his vain attempts to ingratiate himself with General Gibson. Percival is attempting to shield Gibson’s pet cadet from prosecution. Sadly, Mr. Prudhomme has presented him with a wonderful opportunity to do so.” Bassett buttoned the top button on his overcoat and turned up his collar against the wind coming off the Hudson. “Let’s get upstairs, Harper. I’ll teach you what little I know about criminal-defense strategy.”

  A few minutes later they were seated in Bassett’s office. Late on the Saturday afternoon of the Rutgers game, the department was deserted. Bassett opened one of the drawers in his desk and withdrew a bottle of Scotch. He found two coffee cups, blew the dust out of them, poured a healthy shot in each.

  “Percival made a crucial and rather silly error early this afternoon. He removed Chief Warrant Officer Kerry from the Prudhomme case. That means you can
interview Kerry and get access to everything he’s developed against Rose.”

  “Are you suggesting I use a diminished-capacity defense, sir?”

  “No, such a defense won’t provide you with much of an advantage before a military court.”

  “But Prudhomme’s motive is obvious, sir. We won’t even be able to contest it. Both Favro and Rose will ID him. I’m certain Prudhomme’s prints are on the steering-wheel lock he used on Favro. I’m going to need a defense that mitigates his motive and gives the jury a reason to identify with him.”

  “I’m not talking about the facts of the case, Harper. They’re against you. We agree on that. I’m talking about throwing the facts away and putting the victims on trial. Did you sleep through Cochran’s masterful defense of O.J.? You can’t expect to go in there and try a case like you’ve got and win. You’ve got to attack. And attack. And attack again.”

  “I think I get you, sir. Kerry arrested Rose and Favro. Percival let them go and arrested Prudhomme for assaulting Rose. He’s not after Prudhomme as much as he’s covering for Rose.”

  “Music to my ears, Harper. Pour us each another shot.”

  “I believe I will, sir.” Patterson tipped the bottle of Scotch, and Bassett raised his cup in a toast.

  “I am pleased to see that New York University hasn’t thrown its criminal-law courses away in favor of workshops on how to do the paperwork on a leveraged buyout.”

  Patterson laughed. “Prudhomme says Rose did it. He told me Rose admitted as much, under a measure of duress, I would allow.”

  “You’re learning, Harper. There are times when motive works against you, and there are times when motive works for you. I hold that this is a case of the latter.”

  “So you’re saying we help Kerry get Rose, and Prudhomme goes free.”

  “Harper, I feel comfortable alleging that it would not be possible to find a military jury on this planet that would convict Prudhomme of beating the living shit out of his girlfriend’s rapist.”

  “All of which assumes that Rose is indeed guilty of the attack on Jacey Slaight.”