The female with Righteous Randolph, also a blonde, was every bit as good-looking as the one cooking steaks. She wore a skirt topped with a tight sweater.
"And good evening to you, Righteous," Miller said.
"You're Miller and Castillo, right?" the blonde asked.
"Guilty," Miller said.
"I couldn't believe Randy when he said you would have the gall to show up here," the blonde said.
"Charles, my boy," Miller said. "I suspect that our invitation to mingle with these charming people has been withdrawn."
"Odd, I'm getting the same feeling," Castillo said. "I suspect we withdraw. With Righteous's permission, of course."
"You're right, sweetheart," the blonde said. "They think it's funny, and they're oh, so clever."
"And hers, too, of course," Castillo said.
"You two are really disgusting," Lieutenant Randolph Richardson said.
Castillo was already behind the wheel of his Chevrolet and Miller was having his usual trouble fastening the seat belt around his bulk when Captain Prentiss came running down the drive.
"Where the hell are you going?" Prentiss demanded.
"We tried to tell the general-you were there-that our coming here was probably going to be a mistake," Castillo said. "A stunning blonde, who I strongly suspect is the general's daughter, just confirmed that prognosis."
"My feelings are crushed beyond measure," Miller said. "Righteous Randolph just told us we are really disgusting. I'm about to break into tears, and I didn't want to do that for fear of bringing discredit upon the Long Gray Line."
"Gentlemen," Prentiss said. "General Wilson's compliments. The general requests that you attend him at your earliest convenience."
"What the blonde said was she couldn't believe we'd have the gall to show up here," Castillo said.
"Gentlemen," Prentiss repeated. "General Wilson's compliments. The general requests that you attend him at your earliest convenience."
"That sounds pretty goddamn official, Tom," Miller said.
"As goddamn official as I know how to make it, Lieutenant," Prentiss said.
He pulled open the passenger-side door.
A trim blonde who was visibly the mother of the one on the patio was waiting at the open door of Quarters Two.
"You're Miller and Castillo, right? Dick and Charley?"
"Yes, ma'am," they said.
"I'm Bethany Wilson," she said with a smile. "Where were you going?"
Prentiss answered for them.
"Beth apparently believes they are responsible for the general's condition," he said. "And greeted them with something less than enthusiasm."
"If anyone is responsible for the general's condition, you are, Tom," Mrs. Wilson said. "What did Beth say?"
"The one responsible for the general's condition is the general," General Wilson said, coming to the door from inside the house.
"Good evening, sir," Miller and Castillo said.
"The general's condition, in case you're wondering," he said, "is that he cannot-never has been able to-handle any more than one drink in a ninety-minute period. As you may have noticed, I had four drinks in about forty-five minutes at your apartment. And then I came home. And fell out of the car, before at least a dozen of my daughter's guests. Then, to prove to the world that all I had done was stumble a little, I got onto my wife's bicycle and went merrily down the drive-until I collided with the car of another arriving guest. At that point, Tom finally caught up with me and got me into the house."
He looked between Miller and Castillo and said, "You may smile. It certainly wasn't your fault, but I would consider it a personal favor, Lieutenant Miller, if you did not tell your father about this amusing little episode."
"I beg the general's pardon, but I didn't hear a thing that was said," Miller said.
"Quickly changing the subject," Mrs. Wilson said, "what can I get you to drink? Or would you rather just go out to the patio and join the other young people?"
"There's one more thing, dear," General Wilson said. "Dick and Charley don't get along well with Randy."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "Do I get to hear why?"
"No," General Wilson said. "You were saying something about offering them drinks? Then I suggest we show them the scrapbook-there's a number of pictures of your dad, Charley, and yours too, Dick-and then, throwing poor Tom yet again into the breach, Tom can cook us some steaks to eat in here."
"Sir," Prentiss said, "I'm sorry that I didn't-"
"Didn't what?" Wilson interrupted, and looked at Castillo. "Charley, you're an aide. Would you dare to tell your general to go easy on the sauce?"
"No, sir, I would not," Castillo replied.
"There you go, Tom. Nobody's fault but mine. Subject closed."
[-IV-] 2002 Red Cloud Road
Fort Rucker, Alabama 0755 6 February 1992 Captain Tom Prentiss walked to the kitchen door of Quarters Two and lightly tapped one of the panes with his ring. Brigadier General Harry Wilson, who was sitting at the kitchen table in his bathrobe, gestured for him to come in. He entered.
"Did you have to knock so loudly?" General Wilson inquired.
Prentiss exchanged smiles with Mrs. Bethany Wilson, who stood at the stove.
"Good morning, ma'am."
"Good morning, Tom," she replied, her tone teeming with an exaggerated cheeriness.
General Wilson glared at her over his coffee mug. Miss Beth Wilson, who was sitting across the table from her father, rolled her eyes.
"The general is not his chipper self this morning?" Prentiss said to him. "We are not going to have our morning trot up and down Red Cloud?"
"For one thing, it's Saturday. For another, in my condition, I could not trot down the drive to Red Cloud, much less up and down Red Cloud itself."
"Well, Harry," Mrs. Wilson said, turning from the stove, "you know what they say about the wages of sin." She looked at Prentiss. "Your timing is perfect. You want fried or scrambled?"
"I was hoping you'd make the offer," Prentiss said. "Scrambled, please."
"You know where the coffee is," she said.
"Bring the pot, please, Tom," General Wilson said. "Unless you have an oxygen flask in your pocket."
"I can have one here in five minutes, sir," Prentiss said.
He took the decanter from the coffee machine and carried it to the table.
"And how are you this morning, Miss Beth?" Prentiss said.
Beth Wilson flashed him an icy look, but didn't reply.
"Does oxygen really work, Tom?" Mrs. Wilson asked.
"Yes, ma'am, it does."
"You heard that? Or you know from personal experience?"
"I respectfully claim my privilege against self-incrimination under the fifth amendment to the constitution," Prentiss said.
"Seriously, Tom," General Wilson said, "how much trouble would it be to get your hands on an oxygen flask before we go to meet the Castillos?"
"You want it right now, sir?"
"You heard what she said about the wages of sin," General Wilson said. "I'm about to die."
"Let me make a call," Prentiss said, and started to get up.
"Eat your breakfast first," Mrs. Wilson said. "Let him suffer a little."
"Oh, God!" General Wilson said. "Is there no pity in the world for a suffering man?"
His wife and his aide-de-camp chuckled.
His daughter said, "You all make me sick!"
"I beg your pardon?" General Wilson said.
"You're all acting as if it's all very funny."
"There are elements of humor mingled with the gloom," General Wilson said.
"Randy said he did it on purpose," Beth said.
"Randy did what on purpose?" her mother asked.
"Castillo did it on purpose. Castillo got Daddy drunk on purpose, hoping he would make an ass of himself."
General Wilson said, "Well, Daddy did in fact make sort of an ass of himself, but Charley Castillo wasn't responsible. Daddy was."