The afternoon was dark and gloomy as I sat in a line of military traffic, inching along in my jeep. We had to pull over for a truck convoy heading into the 3rd Division bivouac area. Men, artillery, and supplies flowed along the mud-caked road, nearly bumper to bumper. Something was happening, but in true army fashion, I’d be the last one to know if all my suspects shipped out to parts unknown.
I needed several things. I needed to know if the division was shipping out soon. I needed to see where Galante’s body had been left. And I needed help. I needed Kaz. Kaz would be an extra set of eyes and ears, not to mention someone smart enough to figure out what was going on. I needed Lieutenant Baron Piotr Augustus Kazimierz.
Kaz had been my best friend since I got shipped over here in 1942. He’d been on General Eisenhower’s staff as a translator, mostly as a courtesy to the Polish government-in-exile. Kaz was the last survivor of his family, alive only because he’d been studying in England when the Germans invaded Poland. His entire family had been killed, wiped out by the Nazis as they eliminated the educated elite of the country. Kaz wanted to serve, but a heart condition had kept him out of uniform. He finally talked his way in, as a translator for Uncle Ike. He was a skinny, bookish kid, and the idea was he could work in an office and do his bit.
Kaz’s father had seen what was coming, and deposited the bulk of the family fortune in Swiss banks. As a result, Kaz was filthy rich. Rich enough to permanently keep a suite of rooms at the Dorchester hotel in London, the same suite where he and his family had celebrated their last Christmas together. I bunked with Kaz when I was in London and felt the ghosts of his past life drift by us in the ornate high-ceilinged rooms. One of those ghosts was Daphne, the love of Kaz’s life. Sister of Diana Seaton. Maybe that’s why I worried about Diana so much. I didn’t want to become scarred like Kaz.
Kaz wore a physical scar as well. An explosion-the same explosion that had killed Daphne-had ripped his face from the corner of one eye down to the cheekbone. The injury and the loss had changed him. For a long time, he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died, and I felt it was my job to keep life interesting enough for him to hang around. Lately, he’d turned a corner. He’d begun working out, building himself up, but for what I didn’t know. All I did know is that he had more brains than ten other guys put together and wasn’t afraid to use the Webley break-top revolver he wore. I could use both kinds of firepower. I decided to radio Colonel Harding and ask for Kaz to be sent down from London.
The column finally passed and the traffic moved along, toward Caserta. I ran through the leads I had to follow. Pay a visit to Bar Raffaele in Acerra and see what the scuffle was all about, and why Landry and Flint went down there to pay damages. Find out whom Louie owed his next paycheck to. Go back and find Major Arnold, Schleck’s second-in-command, and see if he’d be more talkative. Ask Sergeant Jim Cole why he didn’t tell me about knowing Landry and Galante. An infantry division is a big place, about fourteen thousand guys at full strength. He should have mentioned it, even if it was only a coincidence. He didn’t, and I wanted to know why. I also needed to find out how Galante had gotten a squad killed, and why Cole was supposed to know about that. Maybe it was just a rumor that Schleck glommed onto, but if true, it would be a motive for revenge. Then ask the same question around the 32nd Station Hospital, and see what Galante’s colleagues had to say.
It was a lot of legwork, and none of it might end up being important. But it gave me the illusion of being on the right track, and I might get lucky and stumble onto something I’d recognize as a clue. After an hour of stop-and-go traffic, I parked in front of the Caserta HQ and went to see Major Kearns. My plan was to send the radio message to Harding, then look at where Galante’s body was found before it got too dark. Then Cole, then chow, and onto the officer’s club to practice my interrogation skills at the bar. It was a good plan, except that it didn’t hold much promise in terms of solving the murders.
“Billy!” A familiar voice echoed in the hallway leading to Kearns’s office.
“Kaz,” I said, turning to find him behind me. “What are you doing here? I was on my way to radio Harding to ask for you.”
“He sent me immediately, but we had aircraft trouble and I was stuck at Malta for a day. It’s good to see you, Billy.” We shook hands warmly, both of us glad to be working together again. As usual, Kaz looked perfect in his tailored British battle dress uniform, complete with the red shoulder patch with “Poland” inscribed in bold letters. His blue eyes shone eagerly behind his steel-rimmed spectacles, and as usual the Webley revolver was at his hip.
“Do you know what’s going on here?” I asked.
“Yes. Colonel Harding briefed me in London, and I saw Major Kearns twenty minutes ago. He told me to find Sergeant James Cole in CID, and that he’d tell me where you were. But he wasn’t in.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Kaz.”
“As am I,” he said. We stood in silence for a heartbeat, the bonds of mourning, suffering, and hardship still strong-so strong that there were no words for it, none that I understood, anyway.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said, putting my arm around Kaz’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen where Captain Galante’s body was found yet. Then we’ll look for Cole.” We walked through the gardens, beautiful even with tents and vehicles marring the landscape. A waterway led from the palace down the gentle slope to the Fountain of Diana and Actaeon. As we drew closer, the formal gardens became wilder, and smooth marble gave way to rough stone, creating the effect of entering a wilderness.
“Apparently the major was lured here,” said Kaz. “One wonders why he was placed in this particular location.”
“Out of the way?”
“Surely. But why was that important?”
“I don’t know. Not a lot about this makes sense.”
“Ah,” Kaz said as the final pool of water came into sight. “Diana and Actaeon. You know the story?”
“It was explained to me,” I said. “Guy got turned into a stag for daring to look at a naked goddess, then got ripped apart by his own hunting dogs.” A small waterfall descended over moss-covered rocks, between two sculptures. Diana on one side, covering her nudity, and Actaeon on the other, being brought down by hounds. It was an oddly private place, sunken from view, surrounded on three sides by trees and shrubs. Not a bad place to stash a body. “I saw this place once before, but I’d forgotten how hidden it was.”
“The report said Galante’s body was laid out at the wall of the pool,” Kaz said.
“Over here. There are still some chalk marks,” I said.
“Interesting,” Kaz said. “He’s facing Actaeon.”
“So?”
“Perhaps nothing,” he said, squatting down to get a corpse-eye view of the fountain. “It just strikes me as odd. This is a public place, although hidden from view until you come upon it. I don’t think the killer’s objective was to hide the body, at least not for very long.”
“Right,” I said. “He could’ve put it in among the trees and shrubs. That would have bought him more time.”
“I wonder if this placement was a statement.”
“What kind of statement?”
“That Captain Galante had seen something, as Actaeon had. Something that must be kept hidden from human eyes. Once he’d seen it, his fate was sealed.”
“Listen, Kaz, this is a nice quiet place, a good place for a killing. The murderer brings Galante down here under some pretense, strangles him after a short struggle, then rolls his body next to that wall. Short and sweet. No mythological psychiatric mumbo jumbo.”
“Perhaps, Billy. I admit to a weakness for the old myths. The killer might also.” I looked at the statues, and thought about my father telling me there was no such thing as a coincidence.
“You might be right about Galante being killed because he saw something. We have to find out what.” This was why I needed Kaz, to help me see what was staring me right in the face.
“What do you make of the playing cards?” Kaz asked as we trudged back to the palace. The sky was darkening with low, gray clouds rolling in.
“It could be part of some crazy game. Or it could be to throw us off the scent. Maybe these two guys were the only targets, and by using the ten and the jack, he’s got us worrying about the next victim instead of focusing on Landry and Galante.”
“It could have been just one of them, with the second man killed to confuse us.”
“I’m confused enough as it is. The only thing I’ve found out is that Cole held something back from me. He’s only been with CID a short time. Before that he served in the 3rd Division and knew everyone in Landry’s platoon. They all refuse to talk about it, as if they’re protecting him. Colonel Schleck, who runs Personnel for the division, says Galante got a squad killed, and that Cole knows all about it.”
“Do you think it’s true?”
“Schleck seems convinced. What’s more important is why Cole held that story back, especially any relationship he had with Galante.”
“If Galante was somehow responsible for an entire squad being killed, that could be a strong motive,” Kaz said.
“Yeah, and I wonder if any of those guys were Cole’s buddies.”
“Let us find the sergeant,” Kaz said, “and discuss this with him.”
“Maybe after we get some chow. I’ll fill you in on my Swiss vacation.”
“Switzerland? How…”
“What’s going on over there?” I said, interrupting Kaz and pointing toward the palace. To one side, among the jeeps, trucks, and ambulances lined in neat rows, a growing mass of people was gathering, many of them pointing to the roof of the palace. We hurried closer, curious as to what the hubbub was all about. GIs, officers of all ranks, nurses, and civilians began to jostle us, eager to get closer to a break in the endless routine of headquarters work. No one seemed to know what was happening, but no one wanted to miss it.
Vehicles were started and headlights lit the wall of the palace. Lights went on in windows as they were thrown open and heads peered out, looking up, then down at the crowd, then up again. The sun had begun to set, and the roof, a full five stories up, blended into the dark gray sky. The headlights only made it worse with their bright angled glare. Someone found a searchlight mounted on a truck and switched it on. A harsh white light played across the building, and I could see people in the windows covering their eyes, turning away. The beam darted back and forth until it caught a pair of boots dangling from the edge of the roof. Then the full form of a GI, his hand shielding his eyes. Even at that height, with the mask of an outstretched palm covering his face, I knew we’d found Sergeant Jim Cole.
I raced up the stairwell, looking for a way to the roof. Kaz was right on my tail, keeping up as we hit the fourth floor. Not too long ago, he would have stopped, gasping for breath halfway up. I didn’t know if his heart could take it, but I figured Kaz was more interested in living what life he had than worrying about dying.
One more floor, and we found Kearns at the base of a narrow set of stairs, with a couple of MPs keeping the curious at bay. “It’s Cole,” he said.
“Yeah, I saw him. What happened?”
“You tell me. He came to see me this afternoon, looking for you. Next thing I hear, he’s on the roof. What did he say to you?”
“Nothing, I just got back from 3rd Division.”
“Well, get up there and talk to him, dammit! Bring him in, Boyle.”
“Yes sir. I’ll need some rope.”
“You’re going to tie him up out there?”
“No. It’s for Kaz. Tie it around his chest and anchor it to the stairs. Then send him out. I may need something to grab onto and it’d be nice if it stayed put.” Kearns sent an MP and I took the metal stairs, holding onto the thin rail as the walls narrowed and ended at a small wooden door. I opened it and had to duck to squeeze through.
It was windy. Windy and dazzlingly bright, as the searchlight caught me square in the eyes. I stumbled back, grabbing for the door, but it had shut in the wind. I grabbed air, slipped, and felt myself sliding down a section of roof, panicking in my near blindness. My leg jammed up against a low wall, but my head kept going until it hit granite. It hurt, but not as much as the idea of falling. The searchlight moved on.
“I’ve been thinking about shooting out that light,” Cole said, his voice even and low, eyes on the crowd below. We were on a flat section of the roof, a narrow catwalk at the corner of the building. Above us the roofline sloped into the night. Below us, a long fall to hard ground. A knee-high wall was all that separated me from air. It did less for Cole. He sat on it, his boot heels dangling into space. A. 45 automatic rested in his hand, and he gestured with it lazily toward the searchlight.
“I’ll do it for you,” I said, hoping for a chance to establish a common bond. I untangled my legs and stood. Or more accurately, leaned against the roof, as far from the edge as possible.
“Don’t come any closer,” Cole said.
“Yeah. Or else you’ll jump. Pretty obvious. What’s with the gun? Can’t make up your mind which way to check out?”
“What? Why’d they send you out here anyway, Lieutenant, to crack jokes?” He still didn’t look at me.
“No, I’m serious. I was a cop back home, saw my fair share of suicides. Usually they picked one method and stuck to it. Did you have a plan when you came up here?” One thing my dad taught me is that it’s a rookie move to tell any jumper that this too shall pass, you’ll feel better in the morning, that sort of stuff. It’s likely he’s already heard it, and it didn’t stop him from climbing to the top of the highest thing he could find. Sometimes a person would jump just so he wouldn’t have to listen to another idiot lecture him. No, best thing was to go right at him, ask him what he planned to do. It let him know you took him seriously, that you knew he was in pain. Then, maybe, he might talk.
“The gun is for anyone who tries to stop me,” Cole said, finally giving me a quick glance.
“Listen, if you think I’m going to grab you and let you wrestle me off that ledge as you make your swan dive, you got another thing coming. This is as close as I get. Tell me what happened today.”
“Today? What do you mean?”
“You didn’t come up here yesterday. Or the day before. Not that I know of, anyway. So what got you on this ledge today?”
“You wouldn’t understand. You couldn’t, or you’d be up here yourself. I keep seeing them. Especially the little girl. I see her in my dreams, and she’s alive. She’s holding her doll, like kids do, you know? Then I wake up, and I know she’s dead. I can’t go on any longer, I can’t.” Cole spoke in a deliberate, slow voice. The voice of a man who was sure of himself. This wasn’t a cry for help; this was a guy in the last moments of his life. I needed to get him thinking in a different direction.
“Why were you looking for me today? Was it about the case?”
“It’s nothing. Meaningless.”
“Come on, Cole, help me out. If you jump, I’ll be all alone on this investigation. Tell me what you know.” What I knew was that this wasn’t the time to ask about dead squad mates from the 3rd Division.
“I don’t know anything. Except that nothing matters, no matter what you do. You try to do good, but it turns evil. You try to save lives, but you end up taking them.”
“This is war, Cole.”
“Innocent lives. I can’t forget them. He won’t let me. I can’t carry this any longer.” He thumped his chest, once, then again, harder. “It’ll never go away, never.”
“Who won’t let you?”
“He was my friend,” Cole said, his voice breaking. “I see it in his face, see everything all over again.” He began to sob now, rocking back and forth on the ledge. I reached out to steady him, but his gun hand was up in a flash. “Don’t touch me!” His face was contorted in agony as tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Okay, okay. Just tell me, Cole. Who are you talking about?”
“Everybody wants something, don’t they? You do, the army, the Krauts, you all want something. Answers. Blood. Promises. But I’ve got nothing left to give. I’m going crazy, I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to see that face for the rest of my life. I see that doll too, a rag doll in a red dress. Even when I’m awake, I see it. I don’t want to live like that. I can’t.”
I heard a noise behind me, and hoped it was Kaz.
“Shoot the light,” I said. “Shoot the damn searchlight!” It was all I could think of.
“There’s people down there. Are you nuts?”
“You’re a combat infantryman, Sergeant Cole. You telling me you can’t hit a big, blazing searchlight dead center at this range?”
“What do you care?”
“You’re the one about to kill yourself, so what do you care?” It was like daring a kid to break a window back home. What are you, chicken? I heard the door move on its hinges.
“Okay,” Cole said, taking the dare. “But first, in case someone shoots back, I have something to give you.” He reached into his pocket, and tossed a double strand of pearls into my hand. Pearls? Smooth white pearls. I was dumbstruck.
“What’s this?”
“You’re the detective,” he said. He stood, balancing his weight, and raised his arm, aiming the. 45 at the searchlight. A murmur rose up from the crowd, and I hoped it covered the sound of Kaz coming through the door.
It didn’t. I leapt, but Cole saw my move and sidestepped away from me. I came down hard on the edge of the granite wall, Kaz hanging onto my legs, the breath knocked out of me. I looked up at Cole, surprised at how agile he was, and tried to think of what to say.
“Don’t jump.” It was all that I could come up with, and it came out in a wheeze as I gulped air.
“I’m not going to,” he said, and took another careful step away from me, sliding his feet along the narrow ledge. He raised the automatic and placed the muzzle under his chin. He didn’t move as the searchlight played over him and the crowd below gasped. He stood, rock solid, until the slightest movement of his finger shattered the night with a sharp noise, blood, and bone.