Darkside (16 page)

“Say nothing. Just be here. Afterward, we may have some questions for you.”

“Questions?”

“It's our experience that mids don't trust civilians. Sometimes they speak in code. You're a graduate. I'd like you to watch Markham, then tell me afterward if you think she's lying, holding back, or just giving us the CivLant brush-off.”

“I can probably do that,” Jim said. “She bringing a lawyer?”

“So we've been told,” Branner said, and went to sit down at the head of the table. Jim took a chair over to one side,
where he could watch Markham and also enjoy the view. Thompson gave him a hello nod, and then the secretary brought in Markham and a very elegant-looking lady lawyer. He saw Branner bristle when she got a look at Markham's lawyer, and he found himself looking forward to a possible catfight. He wondered if Branner had changed clothes to distract a male lawyer.

The agents got up and shook hands with the lawyer, whose name, Jim learned, was Liz DeWinter. He stood to be introduced, and DeWinter gave him a curious look.

“And why are you here, Mr. Hall?” she asked.

“At the commandant's request,” replied Branner, lying smoothly. “Mr. Hall is the Academy's security officer, and we've been directed to liaise through him for any support we need from the Academy while conducting our investigation. Today, he's basically an observer.”

“Is that so?” DeWinter murmured, raising an eyebrow. Jim wondered if she was buying it. On the other hand, she'd have no way to disprove what Branner was saying. Branner indicated that they should sit down so that the recorder could pick up their voices. The lady lawyer was dressed in an expensively tailored suit. Markham was in working blues, and she looked mostly angry. Liz sat down in a side chair and indicated that Julie should sit on her right, so that she was between Julie and the agents. She put her own voice-activated recorder out on the table, turned it on, introduced herself, and asked the agents to introduce themselves. Neither of them moved to turn on their recorder, which, Jim realized, meant it had been on since Liz and Julie had walked in. Branner took the lead.

“I'm Special Agent Branner, Naval Criminal Investigative Service,” she announced, speaking to the recorder. “I'm the supervisor of the Naval Academy NCIS resident unit. With me is Special Agent Thompson, also from my office. For the record, also present is Mr. Hall, Naval Academy security officer, Midshipman First Class Julie Markham, and her attorney of record, Ms. Elizabeth DeWinter of DeWin
ter, Paulus and Sloane, LLC, One-oh-seven Beale Street, Annapolis, Maryland.” Then she recited the date and time.

“What is the purpose of this meeting?” Liz interjected.

Branner blinked once when Liz interrupted the flow of her spiel. “The purpose of this meeting is to conduct an official interview with Midshipman Markham in connection with the death of Midshipman Fourth Class William Brian Dell.”

“Is this a homicide investigation?” Liz asked.

“This is an official NCIS investigation,” Branner said evenly. “NCIS does not characterize investigations other than as official investigations.”

“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 re
main 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.”

“Would he show up for practice sessions here at the Academy?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Does the team practice every day?”

“During the competition season, yes.”

“So it would be fair to say that you had daily contact with Midshipman Dell during the competition swimming season?” Branner asked, a tiny gleam of triumph in her eye. But the lawyer was ready.

“Don't answer that,” Liz instructed. Julie said nothing.

“Why not?” Branner asked.

“Because I didn't like the way you phrased that, Agent Branner. Plus, she's already told you that she had little or no contact with Dell, that he helped out with the plebe members of the team, not the seniors.”

Branner started to say something, tapped her pencil three times, and then Thompson picked up the questions. Definitely rehearsed, Jim thought.

“Is the swim team a close-knit organization?” he asked.

Liz nodded. “Fairly close,” Julie said. “I mean, we all cheer one another on during the various events. We practice two, sometimes three hours a day, early in the morning and again after class. Swimming is extremely competitive, both within and among the teams.”

“Do the women on the swim team tend to hang out with the men on the swim team?”

Julie looked at Liz, who hesitated but then nodded. “Some do,” she said. “But most midshipmen date outside of the Academy.”

“How about you?”

Liz told her not to answer that. “That's not germane here,” she declared.

Thompson, unlike Branner, appeared to take that in stride. “Okay. Do you know if Dell formed any close associations on the swim team?”

“No,” Julie said before Liz could give her permission.

“No, what? No he didn't, or no, you don't know?”

“No, I don't know. He was a plebe. He wouldn't have much time for dating in any event. And never an upperclassman.”

Thompson consulted his notes. Liz tapped Julie on the arm and pointed to her previous note about answering questions. Julie nodded and mouthed the word
sorry.

“Are plebes allowed to date upperclassmen?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are plebes allowed to date anybody?”

“Dahlgren dates on Saturdays,” Julie said. “There are lots of rules. You really have to want to be with someone.”

“Did Dell date anyone that you know of?”

“Don't know,” Julie said. “He was a plebe. Unless he was in my company, I wouldn't know and wouldn't care.”

Thompson nodded equably. “I'm done,” he said, looking to Branner.

“I'm not,” she said. “Midshipman Markham, are you involved romantically with anyone here at the Academy now?”

“She's still not going to answer that, Agent Branner.”

“I think it might be pertinent to our investigation,” Branner snapped.

“Then go find out by yourselves,” Liz replied. “But based on the tone and drift of this interview, I'm assuming certain things about your view of my client.”