Murder in Washington
0134
The Silver Slipper
Washington DC
It was a cold night, unusually cold for May. The stars had thrown their blanket over the night sky long ago when Lt. Commander Ray Baron stumbled out of the Silver Slipper, almost too drunk to stand. He stopped for a moment and bent over the trashcan and spilt his insides for the world to see, oblivious to the figure standing behind him.
Lt. Commander Baron raised his head from the inside of the trashcan and wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned around. His vision was blurry, every color was melting into each other, but something brought him out of reverie. Something very sharp, and very fatal.
Baron doubled backwards, his hand instantly clutching his stomach where suddenly a very dark red liquid was freely flowing. Baron staggered to the wall before sliding down to the ground. The figure stood there, watching, a long forgotten smile suddenly blessing their lips.
Baron looked up, again his vision blurry. He was seeing two. Were there two? No, they were too similar. It was one person. But who? And then suddenly, the two pictures collided and Baron's eyes opened wide in shock.
"You . . ." he mumbled as the beat in his heart dangerously slowed. "You're dead."
The figure smiled, a small devilish smile, looking misplaced on their features. "Was." And with that, the figure took one step forward and dug the knife once more into Baron . The Lt. Commander never even had time to scream.
"Very impressive, Commander," I replied, not even glancing up from the Everest shaped mountain of files on my desk. "Only nine minutes and twenty-three seconds late." I look up to be greeted with the golden flyboy grin. "You're getting better."
"I wouldn't be grinning so smugly if I were you, Colonel," replied Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. leaning against the frame of my office door. "I'm not the one who has to climb the Appalachians to look over her desk."
"And what makes you think that you won't have an equally large pile awaiting you in your office?" I shot back, cocking one eyebrow up and placing god knows what file on my desk. I want to hear the answer to this one.
"Because I," he replied with as much emphasis as possible, "am going on an investigation."
I stand up so fast that I knock over my 'finished' pile and the files spill all over my desk and some drop on the floor. Harm looked down at the files and grinned before strolling out of the office. "Have fun!" he called from halfway down the bullpen.
What the hell? I quickly exit my office and walk through the bullpen, ignoring the fact that Harriet is calling me from her computer table. "Tiner," I say, half shout, slapping the desk to get his attention. "May I see the Admiral?"
"Uh, I'm not sure, ma'am," Petty Officer Jason Tiner replied quickly standing up. "Commander Rabb just left and—"
"Never mind, Tiner," I replied quickly, shutting him up effectively. I stride forward and open the door to Admiral AJ Chegwidden's office. "Sir, I was wondering if I could talk to you about . . ."
And words just utterly fail me as I see Commander Sturgis Turner sitting in one of the leather chairs across the desk from the Admiral. Sturgis turns around and he's looking about as mystified as the Admiral is, though showing it in a much politer way. Chegwidden looks just plain mad.
"Colonel!" he barked from behind his desk. "Is there a fire in the office?"
"No, sir."
"Anyone dying?"
"No, sir."
"Are you or anyone else in mortal danger?"
"No, sir."
"Then why the hell are you in my office?"
I wish I could remember.
"Colonel!" he barks.
"I'm sorry, sir," I stutter and I can tell I'm falling to pieces before their eyes. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just the Admiral and Sturgis there, but I now realize as I look across the room that who else should be there in the corner with an amused grin plastered to his face than Harmon Rabb? I inwardly groan. I am never going to live this down.
"It's just that Commander Rabb was informing me about an investigation and I do believe that I could be of more use to you involved with that rather than the paperwork," I state, desperately trying to salvage whatever dignity I have left.
The Admiral's eyebrow shoots up and I can tell immediately that it's bad news for me. "Is paperwork beneath your high standards, Colonel?" he replies, his eyes narrowing. God, I can't hear or see him but I can feel Harm laughing. However his face masks perfect professionalism and it's that that drives me up the wall. Who am I kidding? Just plain simple Harm drives me up the wall.
"No, sir," I reply, a bit more forcefully than I had intended. I'm beginning to get my rhythm back, but it still feels like I've just been sent to the principal's office for talking in class. "I just think that I could provide a more valuable service to you if I was to aid in the investigation."
God, I phrased that beautifully. Pretty good for someone whose babbling so much that at this point they can't even remember their own birthday. I kind of pause for a moment . . . hoping. The Admiral's standing up now with his arms folded across his chest. And he's thinking, his eyebrows furrowed in a not-so-angry frown.
"Have you taken a particular interest in the case, Colonel?"
I kind of feel the voice catch in my throat but I don't dare slip up. No, I've embarrassed myself too much already. But, of course, that's no saving me from Harm. He knows I'm at absolute ground zero when it comes to knowledge on this case. "Well, sir, I just feel I would like to be involved."
"Hmm," the Admiral grunts. "Well, I had initially assigned both Commander Rabb and Commander Turner to this investigation, but Commander Turner has just informed me that he will be unable to go because of his brother's wedding."
"You have a brother?" I interrupt and then realize what I've said, or more like, where I said it and who I said it in front of. 'Why can't I just keep my mouth shut for one second?' I ask myself. This must be what it feels like to be Harm.
"Yes," replied Sturgis steadily, voice even. "Half brother, we don't talk much but hopefully my attendance at his wedding will be the first step towards the reparation."
"Well, good luck with that Commander," the Admiral breathed as he leaned back in his chair. "Commander, you brief the Colonel and get your bags packed. I have a feeling your staying in Washington is going to be anything but short."
0947
Somewhere in Washington
The figure slowly wiped the blood of the knife, taking careful care to stroke it just right, polishing it clean and free of any sign of the deaths it had inflicted upon others. Slowly, the figure stood up and walked over to desk, bare except for the one small slip of paper tucked into the corner. With grim satisfaction, the figure picked up a pencil and scratched a name of the list. The name was BARON. And it was the fifth on the list.