“You were a Marine officer, weren’t you, sir?” she asked, looking around for her klacks.
“How could you possibly guess?” he said with a grin.
“Haircut, military bearing, the Academy ring. You obviously work out. The way you were looking at the guy on the tower. Like you’d enjoy going out there and lending a hand. Or a foot, maybe.” She was still smiling. She bent over, balancing on one foot with ease, to pull on her shower shoes. She’d been looking him over, too.
He laughed out loud. She was right: If it were him, he’d go out there, climb the tower, disconnect the ladder into the pool, and then jump off. “So,” he said. “How’s the Dell thing going? They know what happened yet?”
Her expression froze. Not quite alarm, he thought, but suddenly guarded. No longer even a hint of flirtation. He moved to reassure her. “I was there when we were lining up the first interviews,” he said. “Right after the incident. You were the first one up, as I remember.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yes.”
“My people and I caught the initial call,” he said, suddenly wanting to keep it going. “Tell the truth, I wish it had been somebody else.”
“You saw him?” she asked, her voice suddenly husky. “I heard it was-it was very bad.”
“ Bad doesn’t describe it,” he said. “Sorry I brought it up. I mean, if you knew him, that is.”
“Not really,” she said, turning away as if to mask her expression. Is she embarrassed? Jim wondered. “They just wanted to ask some questions. He was in our batt, but otherwise…” Her voice drifted off. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She began gathering her stuff to leave. He didn’t want her just to walk away, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say without making it really obvious he was either hitting on her or questioning her. She smiled over her shoulder and walked toward the locker rooms, tugging the bottom of her bathing suit. Jim watched her go. Definitely a female. He remembered to breathe.
Captain Marble dropped his clipboard onto the tile floor with a loud slap and bent down to begin taking his shoes off. The reluctant dragon on the tower saw that, got up, and trotted right off the tower as if nothing had ever happened. About a 1.0 for form, Jim thought, but at least the kid did the deed. Markham had been right. He headed for the guest locker room, trying to get back to the problem at hand but not doing all that well. There was no way in hell he was going to fool the flame-headed Special Agent No First Name Branner. Her sidekick, now, was a possibility.
Ev didn’t get back to his office until four o’clock. He groaned when his phone announced nine voice mails, but the one from Liz grabbed his immediate attention. He called her back, and she told him that she was meeting with Julie in an hour in her office.
“I can make that,” he said. There was a moment of silence.
“Ev,” Liz said, “I want to meet with her one-on-one this time. That rumor about a possible homicide is solidifying.”
Surprised, he didn’t know what to say. She apparently sensed his confusion. “I need to impress upon her that she needs my protection. Not the two of you. She’s about to be a commissioned officer. I need her to think in the first person singular.”
“O-kay,” he said. “I guess I was operating under the assumption that three minds were better than two.”
“Sometimes,” she said. “Although the usual expression is two minds; three tend to divide into sides. But I think Julie’s seeking your protection from this investigation as much as mine. I need to have her focused on what I tell her. You can’t protect her like I can.”
“True.”
“And I’m not talking about shutting you out, Ev. It’s more a case of calibrating my client. You’re paying the bills. I will absolutely keep you informed.”
It makes sense, he thought. “Okay,” he said. “You’re the lawyer. That’s what I’m paying for. But please: Let me help with any inside background. You know, the Academy context of
what you hear. I believe it will be the Academy that will be calling the shots here, not the NCIS.”
“Not if it’s a homicide investigation,” she said. “If this were simply some outrage to the Navy’s dignity at a football game, then, yes, our focus would be on what the Academy was going to do about it. But if it’s murder, law enforcement is going to drive it.”
“I can’t believe a midshipman has been murdered,” he said, meaning it.
“I can’t, either. That’s not what the Academy’s supposed to be all about, is it?”
He found himself shaking his head at his desk. “The world turned upside down,” he said, remembering what General Cornwallis had ordered his band to play at Yorktown. Then, not wanting to end their conversation on a negative note, he added, “I enjoyed dinner last night. Sorry for the emotional spaz.”
She didn’t say anything, and he wondered if he’d misspoken.
“You’re entitled,” she said finally.
“Yeah, but I’ve got to get over that. I hear it all the time.”
“Not from me.”
He thought about that. It was true: She hadn’t said anything like that. “Well, yes, and I appreciate that.” Then he surprised himself. “I’d like to see you again.” More silence. Was he getting this right? “I mean, if-”
“Sure,” she replied, interrupting him. “When?”
Relieved, he grinned, although she wasn’t cutting him any slack whatsoever. “How about tonight? You come out to my place this time. Call me when you leave and I’ll order up a pizza. This time, I promise: no waterworks.”
“Sounds fine. I like anything but anchovies. Hate anchovies.”
Ev loved anchovies, but he decided he could accommodate her. This one time. “Roger no anchovies.”
“And Ev? I’m really glad you asked me. See you in a little bit.”
He felt his face flush a little as he hung up. For some reason, he felt apprehensive. Why? Being too forward? No, that wasn’t it. Julie was the problem. He hoped Liz wouldn’t drop an “Oh, by the way, your father and I are going to have dinner tonight.”
On the other hand, Julie would be leaving town in a couple of weeks, and then it wouldn’t matter.
Right.
Good.
But he decided he was going to get anchovies on his half, just the same. Might as well establish some boundaries here.
Liz arrived at Ev’s house at 7:30. She’d brought along a bottle of Joseph Phelps Alexander Valley cabernet. He smiled when he saw it. “Fancy fixin’s, counselor. I usually have beer with pizza.”
“Force of habit,” she said. “Come to someone’s house for dinner, you bring some wine.”
He took her through to the kitchen and opened the wine, pouring them both a glass. “I know I’m supposed to let this breathe, but-cheers,” he said. The kitchen had a spacious breakfast nook that overlooked the backyard and Sayers Creek. They sat on cushioned stools at a semicircular counter facing the windows. Liz hadn’t changed from work clothes, and the way she was sitting made it difficult for him to keep his eyes above counter level.
“So, how’d it go with Julie?” he asked.
She reached for her purse and extracted a small boxy tape recorder. “Why don’t I let you listen to this?” she said. “Then you tell me what you think.”
“You tape your clients?” he asked, surprised.
“Always,” she replied, punching on the tape. “For mutual protection. This is interesting.”
Ev listened as Liz welcomed Julie to the office and got her some water. She made a comment about Julie looking in her service dress blues like something right out of a recruiting poster.
“They already did,” Julie said, and then there were chair noises. “For the catalog.”
“I can believe it,” Liz said. “And those stars on your uniform-those indicate academic achievement?”
“Yes, they do,” Julie said. “Although it took me two years to qualify for them. The really smart kids do it in one.”
“Your modesty is most becoming,” Liz said. “Now, do you remember what I told you in the car, that first night we met at your father’s house?”