P Deutermann - Darkside

“I am so pissed off, I can’t see straight,” she growled through clenched teeth.

“I got asked if I liked my job,” he offered. “If that’s any consolation.”

She grunted.

“I was trying to think of some really cool reply just when you came to the door,” he continued. “And how’s Mr. Chang this evening?”

“Showing lots of teeth.”

“Neat trick over a phone.”

“But one he does rather well. I think he figured out I’d been playing coy with the phones this afternoon.”

“Did you get to explain that we have new information on the Dell case?”

“There is no Dell case. And, no, I didn’t, because I was invited to go into the receive mode right from the start.”

“Know that feeling,” he said. “I really did want to ask the dant what it was he was going to do to Julie Markham, but he seemed to have a locked transmitter, too.”

“I can’t believe they’d just fold the whole thing under a rug like this.”

“Well, I don’t agree with it, but I can see how the people up in D.C. might talk themselves into it. The SecNav asking Chang, ‘You have evidence of anything other than an accident?’ ‘Negative,’ Chang replies. SecNav says, ‘The security officer down there, you know, that world-famous detective? He’s got some wild-ass theories, but evidence?’ ‘Why, no, Mr. Secretary.’ ‘All right, then. Wrap it up. Whole Navy’s getting a black eye. Enough, awreddy.’”

“And Short Round back there going, ‘Yes, sir, Mr. Secretary, we can certainly do that, sir. Right now, if you’d like, sir.’” She made a rude noise.

“Well, there is one question: Now that we’ve heard testimony that implicates this guy Booth in both the Dell matter and what’s been going on down in those tunnels, what’re we going to do about it?”

Branner looked over at him. “How well do you like your job, Mr. Hall?”

“Not well enough to cover up a murder, if that’s what happened,” he declared, surprising himself.

She turned fully sideways in the seat. “Sure about that? People who go standing on principle in the government usually find out where they got that expression ‘slippery slope.’”

“You keep telling me it’s a nothing job,” he pointed out.

Branner smiled. “Tell me this: If I weren’t in the picture at all, what would you do right now?”

“I’d go hunt down this kid, Booth. Look him in the eye and see if he was the guy in vampire makeup who’s been screwing around with our tunnels. And if he was, I’d cuff his ass, arrest him, and haul him down to the Academy police station volleyball court for a game of Little Slugger.”

“No you wouldn’t,” she said. “First, you’re not a cop. Second, even if you were, a tune-up queers the deal for any prosecutor. Third, baseball bats went out with the KGB.”

He laughed in the darkness. “What would you do?”

“Well, look. In one sense, they’re all correct: We have no frigging evidence. Just the word of two frightened midshipmen. Julie Markham, who shouldn’t have been messing with that plebe outside of the chain of command. And Tommy Hays, her ex-boyfriend, who knows Booth screwed his girlfriend, and thinks the guy tried to ice him. Hell, maybe she was right: If she’d stayed out of it, his own supervisors would eventually have detected the Dyle Booth thing. As it is-”

“As it is, the kid’s dead,” he said. “That’s all that matters now. I say we go find Booth and interrogate him.”

“Say we did. He could just shine us on. Say absolutely nothing. Deny everything. Who saw him running this plebe in the dead of night? Who can prove he had any connection with Dell? The only one really pointing the finger is Julie Markham, and she’s the one in trouble, not Booth.”

He sighed. She was right on all counts, damn her eyes. He wasn’t a cop. He had no professional training in the rights of suspects and witnesses. Booth did not have to say a frigging thing. Just then, headlights swept across their faces and they saw the supe’s official Navy sedan swing into the arched driveway of Buchanan House. When it stopped, they saw the aide and the admiral get out. The two talked for a minute in the driveway, and then the admiral went inside. Jim looked at Branner.

“There’s the Man. Wanna take a shot?” he asked.

She thought about it for a few seconds and then nodded. “Sure, why the hell not? Can’t dance.”

Ev got out of the shower and heard the phone ringing. It was Liz, who suggested he come down to Angelo’s on the waterfront, where she was taking Julie and Tommy Hays. Resisting the urge to pelt her with questions, he said he’d be there in twenty minutes.

The restaurant was barely half full, so they had some privacy. Liz took him through the meeting with Hall and Branner while Julie and Tommy Hays sat there munching on some calamari and avoiding eye contact with Ev. When she was finished, Ev didn’t know what to think, other than that he was truly upset that Julie had lied about her involvement with Dell.

“Are they going to go after this Midshipman Booth?” he asked.

“They said they were,” Liz said. “But the powers that be might, in effect, protect Booth if they’ve decided to shut the investigation down.”

“And somehow smear Julie with what happened to Dell?”

Julie started to say something, but Liz beat her to it. “The more I think about that, the more I believe we can stop it.”

“How?” Julie asked. Hays, who’d reminded Julie about exams, was looking at his watch.

“Branner,” Liz said. “I got the impression she wasn’t going to just sit by and let that happen.”

Julie was shaking her head. “That Branner woman wasn’t exactly full of sympathy,” she said. “Far as she’s concerned, I lied to her when I said I didn’t really know Brian Dell.”

“Well, news flash, Julie, sounds like that’s exactly what you did,” Ev said. This produced a strained silence at the table, and netted him a warning look from Liz. But he plunged on. “I agree with Liz that Booth is a lot more responsible for what happened to Dell than you are. You were trying to help the poor guy; this Booth was apparently more interested in torturing him. Anyone else know you were mentoring him?”

“His roommate, maybe,” Julie said. “Unless Dell kept it from him. But you know how it is with roommates.”

“But NCIS knows,” Hays pointed out. It was the first time Tommy had said anything about the case, and Ev nodded his acknowledgment. The waiter brought a large bowl of steaming pasta and some sauces and cheese. He put it on a lazy Susan in the middle of the table and then set out bowls. They stopped talking and attended to the food, which Ev discovered was better than he’d expected. When they were finished, Tommy excused himself, saying he had to get back for study hours. He told Julie to call him on his cell once she got back into Mother B. She said she would. He offered to chip in for dinner, but Liz waved him off. He thanked her and left.

“What should I do if they call me in when I sign back in?” Julie asked Liz. Ever since Ev had made his remark about her deception, Julie wouldn’t look at him.

“Who?” Liz asked.

“The commandant. Or Captain Rogers.”

“You respectfully comply. But you tell them nothing about your interaction with Dell. You tell them that, on advice of counsel, you won’t discuss the Dell case. But if what Mr. Hall said is correct, I wouldn’t expect any summonses.”

“Unless that Branner woman sits down with the dant and spills everything,” she said.

“Agent Branner has other fish to fry right now. Specifically, Midshipman Dyle Booth.”

Julie glanced around the restaurant, as if half-expecting to see Booth peering in through a window. “If Dyle’s gotten wind of anything, he’s going to come to see me,” she said.