P Deutermann - Darkside

“Is my client suspected of having committed a crime or other infraction of military law?”

“No,” Branner said. Then she held up her hand before Liz could ask any more questions. “This interview is suspended at sixteen twenty-three for five minutes,” she announced, speaking into the recorder, then reached forward and turned it off. “Look, Ms. DeWinter, this is not an interrogation. Your client is not a suspect. Why don’t you take your pack off and just see where this goes?”

Liz had not turned off her own tape recorder. “I have received unofficial information that your investigation is a homicide matter. I’d like you to Mirandize my client now, please, and then understand, if you will, that she will clear her answers to any and all of your questions through me. If these procedures are unsatisfactory to you, this interview will be terminated.”

Branner’s face colored. “Ms. DeWinter, I should remind you that Midshipman Markham is subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice,” she said. “That said, she does have rights. If she is or becomes a suspect, that’s when she gets an Article Thirty-one warning.”

“What is that?”

“Like a Miranda, only better, from the suspect’s point of view. But I repeat, she is not a suspect.”

“Even if she is not a suspect, she does have the right to remain silent, and the right to have counsel present for this interview, correct?”

Branner made a sound of exasperation. “Does your client want to become a suspect?”

Liz shook her head. “No. Do you have evidence linking my client to the death of Midshipman Dell?”

“Well, you know we do, actually,” Branner replied, glancing at Julie.

Liz stared at Branner. “So let’s do that Article Thirty-one warning, then.”

Branner hesitated, then looked at Thompson. He shrugged, reached down into his briefcase, and withdrew a single-page form. “It has a waiver line on the bottom, where the interviewee agrees to answer questions voluntarily. Why don’t we have her sign that, and you can control which ones she answers? That okay?”

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.”