P Deutermann - Darkside

“A Navy varsity team doesn’t work that way, Agent Branner,” Julie said. “Everyone’s busting his ass. If you’re just there for personal glory, you usually don’t stay.”

Jim could agree with that. None of the midshipmen were eyeing million-dollar contracts in professional or Olympic sports after graduation. They were going to get commissioned and spend the next five years serving their country. He also noticed that Markham had become a little more assertive in her demeanor. No more automatic “sir” or “ma’am” to civilians like Branner. He wondered why the lady lawyer wasn’t here.

“If you weren’t stashing those clothes, then perhaps someone put them there, most likely to implicate you in the Dell matter. Why would someone do that?”

“To implicate me in the Dell matter, I suppose,” Julie said patiently.

Branner bristled. “Someone have it in for you, Markham?”

“Not that I know of. I broke up with another firstie a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t a jealousy scene or anything. He wanted to keep going after graduation, and I’m going to be too busy for that.”

Branner asked for his name and company, which Julie gave him. “So he wouldn’t be plotting against you?”

“He’s had his feelings hurt, but he’ll live. It’s not like I dumped him for someone else.”

“Okay, then, who else? You strike me as a go-ahead young lady. Some men can’t handle that. You beat out someone for promotion, or status here in the Academy? Class standing, or grades in a particular class?”

“All those things happen constantly,” Julie said. “That’s the system. Class standing. Academic standing. President of the Glee Club or any other ECA. Everyone competes here, and if they don’t, the Dark Side will notice.”

“The what?”

Julie colored slightly. “The senior officers. The people who run the Academy. The supe. The dant. They are the system.”

Jim found himself nodding in agreement. No one would get killed because he had advanced over someone else in class rank or standing. Branner was appearing to read her next question from her notebook, but that pen was tapping again.

“So you had nothing to do with Midshipman Dell, and you have no idea of who might have done something, anything, to Dell that would have resulted in his going off the roof?”

“For the last time, I hope: Yes, that’s correct.”

“Will you be willing to take a polygraph test to that effect?”

“No,” Julie said promptly. Branner stopped tapping her pen.

“Why not?”

“Because a guilty person has nothing to lose by taking a lie-detector test, while an innocent person has everything to lose if he or she happens to fail it.”

“Who told you that?”

“Read it in a novel.”

Branner sat back in her chair. “And you believe that?”

“Yes, I do. Simple probabilities. A lie detector is a machine being interpreted by a human. That’s a two points of failure scenario, and one point of possible influence.”

Branner obviously didn’t know what to say to that.

“Look,” Julie said, leaning forward in her chair. “I know I didn’t do anything to Dell. If somebody put some of his uniform clothes in my room, then that’s the dude you want to find. In the meantime, I’d like you to leave me the hell out of this mess, unless you have some evidence to the contrary.”

“You’re an evidentiary expert now?”

“I know that the clothes thing, both sides of it, aren’t evidence of homicide. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? Evidence of homicide?”

Branner controlled her expression and just looked at her, waiting.

“Okay, tell me this: You people picked up all of Brian’s personal effects after he died, correct?”

Branner nodded.

“Did you do an inventory? Because we all have a specified uniform allowance, especially plebes, who are required to maintain a full seabag at all times.”

“Assuming we did?”

“If the clothes found in my room are included in that inventory, then someone’s hit your evidence locker. And if they’re not, then someone else had them on the day he died. Find that someone else.”

“Who says we haven’t?”

Julie groaned in frustration. “Meaning me? I say so. You people went through my room that day. These clothes were found behind the towels in the closet. Any room inspector looks there. They reach behind the stacked clothes and swipe for dust. You would have looked there.”

“So maybe you had them somewhere else, then.”

“And then what? Brought them back to my room and put them out practically in plain sight? This after you’ve called me a suspect?”

Branner didn’t answer that, and Jim made his first note. He passed it over to Branner, who read it, nodded, and announced that the interview was over. She excused Julie, who looked from Branner to Jim for a moment, then got up and left without another word.

“Okay,” Branner said. “I shut it off. What’d you hear?”

“Deflection. Let’s play the tape back.”

She rewound it, fast-forwarded past the Article 31 prelude, and then set it on play. When it got to the point where Julie said that she knew she didn’t do anything to Brian Dell, Jim stopped it.

“She asserts that she knows she didn’t do anything to Dell. She does not assert that she doesn’t know who else might have done something to Dell. You asked her a two-part question, remember? She’s ducking the second part of your question. And I’ll bet that’s why she refuses to take a lie-detector test. I think she does know something.”

Branner rewound the tape and listened to it again. She seemed unconvinced. “She might just not have thought to say both things,” she said.

“She’s projecting a different attitude. Today, she was on offense. When she was with her lawyer, she was on defense, deferential, and it was the lady lawyer who was confrontational. Her demeanor just now is not typical of a midshipman in the presence of authority.”

Branner stopped the tape and began tapping her ballpoint pen. After thirty seconds of that, Jim was ready to swat it.

“Okay, suppose you’re right,” she said. “How do we get into her backfield and find out?”

“We pulled in Dell’s roommate; now let’s pull in Markham’s.”

“I don’t know her schedule.”

“The deputy dant does, and he’s right next door. But I think you should do the asking.” He checked his watch. “It’s just after fifteen hundred. She might be free.”

In the event, Julie’s roommate was available, and she arrived at the conference room twenty minutes later. Her name was Melanie Bright, and she looked like her name. Tall, athletic, sparkling blue eyes in a Nordic face, and a friendly, engaging smile. Even Branner smiled back at her when she introduced herself and sat down.

“Midshipman Bright,” Branner said, “NCIS is investigating the Brian Dell incident. You are neither a suspect nor a designated witness. We’d simply like to talk to you in order to fill in some background relating to this regrettable incident. Will you help us?”

“Yes, ma’am, if I can.” Midshipman Bright had a fairly broad California accent, and Jim was pretty sure she had a wad of chewing gum stashed back in her mouth somewhere.

“Good. You are Julie Markham’s roommate. Have you and she talked about the case, and her interactions with us so far? Including today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bright said. “Although I haven’t seen Julie since today’s noon meal formation. She said she had to come in and, like, see you guys this afternoon.”

“Right, we’ve just spoken to her. You’re aware of the special circumstances that connect Midshipman Markham to Midshipman Dell? The clothes?”