We stayed with the bodies until the cops came. Then Rodney helped me up the stairs. I went into my office and put my gun in the safe. I got the bottle out of the desk drawer and was on my second drink when Bill Penrod walked into the office. He sat across from me and looked at me for a while, shaking his head. I poured him a drink. He took out his notepad and a pencil that was only about three inches long.
“USACIDC is on the way,” he said.
“What’s that mean?” Rodney asked.
“US Army Criminal Investigation Command,” I said.
“What’s the ‘D’ for?” Rodney said.
“Nobody knows,” Bill said with a smile. “They call themselves CID. Go figure. They’ll want jurisdiction, it being their guys that got shot.”
“Are they investigating the boat explosion too?” I asked.
“No. It was a civilian boat, and no body parts were found. They don’t get interested until there’s some evidence.”
He took a drink and said, “So, Stan, what happened here?”
I told him what little I could. Rodney sat at his own desk and, for the first time in his life, kept his mouth shut until spoken to.
Bill asked him, “Can you tell me what kind of SUV it was?”
“One of the bigger ones,” Rodney said. “It was dark and I couldn’t see the emblems. They all look alike anyway.”
His mail-order badge had arrived that morning, and he wore it on his belt. He sat such that everyone could see it.
“How about a license number?” Bill asked.
“No, sir. Too dark and it sped by too fast.”
“How many occupants?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“And I guess you didn’t get a look at the driver?”
“No, sir.”
Bill put his notepad away and took the final swig of his drink. I poured him another.
“Where’s that CID guy?” he said. “I want to go home. You know, the unit called me because you and I have history. I was almost home. Had to turn around and come back.” He looked be-hind him at the door. “Where the fuck is CID?”
“I was hoping you’d stay a while, Bill,” I said. “Help me from having to go on base for an interrogation.”
“Who do you think did it, Stan?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
But I had a hunch. Buford had said he’d get Sanford to deal with the Army guys. My guess was that either Sanford himself or one of his Men in Black had saved me. The black SUV fit my scenario.
As we talked, the outer door opened and three men in civilian clothes walked in. Rodney shifted in his chair so they could see his badge.
“Sergeant Penrod?” one of them asked.
“That’s me,” Bill said. “You guys USACIDC?”
“We are, sir,” he said. “I’m special agent Stewart.”
“You guys want a drink,” I asked.
“No, sir,” Stewart said. “We’re on duty.”
“How come you guys don’t have a TV show like NCIS?” Rodney asked.
“Too many letters,” Stewart said.
Penrod said, “This is Stanley Bentworth and his nephew Rodney. They witnessed the shooting. You guys take over, and I can go home now.”
“Not quite,” Stewart said. “We’re not taking jurisdiction.”
“Why not?” Penrod asked.
“Your two stiffs aren’t ours.”
“What do you mean not yours?”
“They aren’t Army personnel. No dog tags, no ID, no insignia, bad haircuts, and the wrong kind of shoes. Those guys were pretending to be Army. Even the uniforms aren’t standard issue. Probably from a costume store.”
Bill said, “Stan, how come you didn’t notice all that?”
“I was too busy getting the shit beat out of me to notice details,” I said. “What about the car? It looks real.”
“That is ours,” he said. “Signed out to Captain Pugh. If you don’t mind, Sergeant Penrod, we’ll take the car now. The keys are in it.”
“Damn!” Penrod said. “I was hoping to go home sometime tonight. No, I don’t mind. You can take it.”
“Wait,” I said. “Couldn’t those guys be Army Intelligence? Under cover? They were working for Captain Pugh, who is, I believe, Army Intelligence.”
“Was,” Stewart said. “He was Army Intelligence. Nobody’s seen Jeremy since his boat blew up. So, as far as we’re concerned, if he isn’t dead, he’s AWOL. And if those two guys lying in the street out there were ours, we’d know them. Nope. Not our jurisdiction. We’re out of here. It’s all yours. Here’s our card. Call if anything changes.”
He passed out cards to Bill, Rodney, and me. With that, the three agents turned and left.
“Shit,” Penrod said. “So much for getting home on time. Stan,
I’ll need your piece for a ballistics match. I’ll get it back to you after the lab eliminates it as the murder weapon.”
I went to the safe to get Roscoe. Now Rodney knew where I kept it. I took the pistol out of the holster, gave it to Bill, and sat down.
Everyone left and we closed shop. This time, I had Rodney walk in front of me while I groped my way down the stairs with out help. One more hurdle cleared. We went out the front door to avoid the crime scene. I walked with him to the car. He started to get in the driver’s side, but I said, “I’ll drive.”
The drive back to Amanda’s house was okay. I managed to work the shifter and pedals even though I still had casts on.
When we got to Amanda’s house, I told Rodney, “I’m going home. You get your room back. Thanks for all your help.”
“No problem.”
Why do people always say that? Whatever happened to “you’re welcome?” If there had been a problem, does it mean they wouldn’t have done it? I wonder about shit like that.
“Tell your mom thanks too. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Bring my clothes and shaving kit.”
I drove home and managed my way from the parking lot into my apartment. I called Bunny at the diner and invited her over.
“Bring supper,” I said.
Things were looking up.