The Major's Wife. Anthony Whyte
you to say something like that, Sharkey?”
“Jim Bob, she’s a beautiful woman with a brain,” Sharkey answered with a smirk.
“And just how does that make her the worse of her kind?”
“Her awareness of it, Jim Bob. She knows her mere presence will cause the bravest man to retreat into hiding.”
“Okay, I’ll agree, she’s a beautiful woman, and all.”
“They’re the most dangerous—”
“Meaning what?”
“She could be involved in her husband’s murder…”
“She’s the surviving spouse, and except for the killer, she was the last person to him alive.”
“My thinking exactly, young buck, and she’s got a nice pair of legs,” Sharkey smiled.
“Don’t mean she could’ve pulled the trigger and ran back up to her office…”
“A beautiful woman like that doesn’t have to pull the trigger herself. She can use all that sexiness the good Lord gave her to get some poor sucker to pull it for her.”
“I could see your theory…”
“Yes, but…? You sound unsure.”
“Not that she can’t do it, but she doesn’t strike me as the type of person to be doing that type of thing,” McAlister countered.
“You may be right. But remember, I’m going to concede Diana never pull the trigger herself. But a smart woman with all that beauty…”
“Okay, so your theory, after talking to her about the history of the monument outside her office building, and the little dribble about her job, is that she had her husband killed?”
“I don’t suppose you were listening when she said that it was her idea to make that so-called pit stop…? Maybe you were too busy being enamored by her good looks?”
“I heard what she was saying, Sharkey. She also distinctly reported that he was supposed to get the file from her office the day before. And the husband should’ve done it. Either way, a stop was made, and a man’s dead.”
“That’s right. And whoever called it walked away alive, Jim Bob. And we’ve got to find out why.”
“I get it, Sharkey, spouses, are in general, the number one suspect in murder cases like this. But I still insist she doesn’t fit the type—”
“What type is that?”
“A conniving woman who wants to have her husband killed.”
“Maybe…”
“That’s for the forensic psychologist to decide, but I don’t think so,” McAlister said.
“Maybe she’s not guilty of pulling the trigger, but I’m certainly not willing to go as far as ruling out her involvement. She’s, for now, our prime suspect,” Sharkey said, contemplating. “For all I know, she could be beautiful and more dangerous than a loaded shotgun in a baby’s hand. Still, you’re right. She deserves a second shot.”
Sharkey drove while the detectives went through the information gathered. A black army officer was gunned down, and his killer vanished, erasing all traces of evidence. The crime scene experts investigated, and so far, found no clues. There were no spent shells left at the crime scene. Sharkey drove back to the area where the murder occurred. The detectives got out of the car and walked the perimeter of the crime scene.
Standing in front of a professional office building, Sharkey glanced up at the 4th-floor window. Then both detectives went upstairs to the location of Diana’s office. Pausing, they visually scoured the inside the lobby of the fourth floor. Two other offices were there. McAlister noted the name of the doctor and attorney sharing the same level. Walking to Diana’s office door, Sharkey stared at the prominent display of her name.
Dr. Diana P. King. Clinical Psychiatry.
They walked inside a midsize office that opened up to a short corridor that led to two interview rooms. The detectives strolled from the waiting area to the window. Looking out, and glancing down Main Street, Sharkey made a mental note of the distance. Sharkey walked to Dr. King’s desk and stopped to examine it in great lengths. Sharkey picked up the case file lying on the counter. Then he walked back to the door.
“Jim Bob, there’s one thing we know for sure. This killer did it too cleanly. Our killer had to be an expert.”
“I agree. And with the rainfall washing all trace evidence away, it sure seems like whoever did it couldn’t have chosen a better evening for a murder.”
“Leads directly to me asking this question. How involved was Dr. Diana King?”
“C’mon Sharkey. Do you think…?”
McAlister waited for Sharkey’s response, but the lead detective’s focus was on the window. Sharkey appeared to be looking past the question. Without answering, Sharkey then shot McAlister a quizzical stare. They walked out of the office and went down the stairs in silence. Crossing the street, the detectives trudged toward the Monument. Officers fanned out, searching the perimeter of the crime scene. McAlister could feel Sharkey’s eyes trained on him.
“Trust me on this one, Jim Bob. A woman with that much beauty and brain don’t come much deadlier, “ Sharkey said, watching the officers check the crime scene.
“So, your early conclusion is that Diana King is somehow involved in her husband’s murder?” McAlister asked.
“My only question is how involved is she?”
The detectives conducted a lengthy walk-through of the crime area. After a thorough examination, the police were unable to find any other evidence. They curtailed their search. It appeared that the killer was meticulous in covering all tracks and vanished into the Sunday night.
“Well, I’ll be damn, another dead end,” Sharkey said, walking back to the car.
“Yes, as you said, this was cleanly done,” McAlister agreed.
“Too clean. I guess we’ll have to wait to talk to the good doctor for any leads.”
“I reckon… So far, Dr. King seems pretty open to answering the questions.”
Sitting inside the unmarked Chevy, Sharkey glanced at his younger partner before starting the engine. Then he said, “Jim Bob, from as way back as biblical times women have always ruled men. They’re the true rulers because they’ve got something we want…”
McAlister stared at Sharkey in silence. All the time, he was aware of the badge of inquiry Sharkey wore on his face. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, Sharkey’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour, and he couldn’t put the brakes on it. An uneasy feeling passed between the two detectives. McAlister didn’t know what Sharkey had up his sleeve, but nothing surprised him. Before teaming up with Sharkey, others from the department warned him about the senior detective tendency to go off on tangents. McAlister shook his head and stared at the road ahead.
CHAPTER
2
Raindrops pelted the roof of his house. The early morning thunderstorm found General Dan Mason, a commander at Fort Rucker Aviation School, picking up his house phone. A commander of the U.S. Army Aviation School duties and responsibilities included informing next of kin about a loved one’s death. A daunting task, Mason hated to perform because it was emotionally grueling.
Due to ongoing combat operations in the Gulf War, soldiers were losing their lives, and these calls were at times appeared routine. Even though this was an ugly side of the war, and Mason executed the duty many times before, he was still dreading making the call. Colonel Mason would generally make a call of this nature from his office on base. However, things were very much different on this occasion.
During combat