This Enemy Town

CHAPTER 17

The next day was Friday. While I waited for Paul to locate Captain Turley’s business card and engineer an invitation from his former student for me to visit the Pentagon, I made it a point to track Dorothy down. I found her at the Academy, curled up in a chair in the Hart Room-no relation!-drinking coffee from a paper cup and reading a book.

I hadn’t seen Dorothy since my arrest-hadn’t seen much of anybody, really-so I was relieved when she shot out of her chair and embraced me like a long lost twin, separated at birth. “Hannah,” she gushed. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“So am I!” I stepped back from her embrace and studied her face for any sign of suspicion or mistrust. “I didn’t do it, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Of course you didn’t, silly! Everyone knows that.”

“Not the FBI, apparently.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “They’ll figure that out. Ted says that the evidence against you is circumstantial at best.” She seized my hand and dragged me toward a chair. “Sit. Tell me about it.”

I settled into the upholstered chair next to the one she had been sitting in and tucked my feet comfortably under me. The last thing I wanted was to relive the horror and embarrassment of the worst week, bar none, of my life to date, so I said, “I’ll spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say that I’m out on bail and that my lawyer is, as we speak, working his tail off on my behalf.”

“He’s good?”

“Very good.”

Dorothy sipped her coffee, her amber eyes serious over the plastic lid that covered her cup. “I just can’t imagine what evidence they can have against you, Hannah.”

“I only know what I read in the papers, Dorothy. The Sun said that Jennifer was killed with the hammer I’d been using to build the sets for Sweeney Todd. It did occur to the reporter, at least, that perhaps that would explain why my fingerprints were all over it.”

“If that’s all there is, it’s pretty lame,” Dorothy remarked.

I nodded. I considered telling my friend about the bloody sweatshirt and the witness who had supposedly seen me behind Mahan Hall on the day of the murder, but I could hear Murray Simon’s voice rasping in my ear, cautioning me to trust no one, and for once I erred on the side of caution and listened. “My lawyer’s talking to the U.S. Attorney in charge of my case,” I explained. “Sooner or later they’ll have to share whatever evidence they have against me, but I must say, they seem to be dragging their feet.”

“Frankly,” Dorothy said, “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“What else am I going to do? Stay at home and pull the covers over my head?” I paused and pressed my fingertips against my eyelids, suddenly overwhelmed by a strong wave of déjà vu.

“Hannah? Are you all right?” Dorothy’s voice seemed to be spiraling down a long tunnel.

I opened my eyes. “I’ve never been arrested before, Dorothy, but I was just thinking that it doesn’t feel that much different from being diagnosed with cancer.”

Dorothy sucked in her lower lip and nodded. Clearly I was speaking a language that she could understand.

“What I mean is, in either case, there’s the very real possibility that I’ll lose my freedom at the end of it, by incarceration on the one hand, or death on the other.”

Dorothy’s eyes grew wide. “Cut it out, Hannah, you’re scaring me.”

“Sometimes I scare myself.” I patted her knee reassuringly. “What I’m trying to say is that in both cases I feel such a lack of control, that I’m compelled…” I paused to reflect for a moment. “… no, I’m driven to do something, anything, because standing still is, at least for me, simply too frightening and painful.” I forced a smile. “Usually I try to keep myself so busy solving other people’s problems that I don’t have time to worry about my own.”

A single tear rolled down Dorothy’s cheek. “I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been to me. The sets, the hats…” She waved her hand in a circular motion. “I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back.”

“Not necessary,” I said, thinking that this was the time if ever there was one to call in that particular IOU, but I didn’t want to jump on it too soon. Dorothy seemed particularly fragile that afternoon; she needed propping up. “I’m sure the time will come when you’ll be a great help to me, too,” I continued, “not to mention all the other breast cancer survivors you’re bound to come into contact with. As an admiral’s wife, you’ll be able to play a particularly influential role in getting the word out about the importance of breast self-exams, early detection-”

Dorothy startled me by cutting me off in mid-sentence. “Why did you come this afternoon, Hannah?”

“I knew you had chemo tomorrow, so I wasn’t sure if you’d be up to checking the set. I left a message on your cell phone-”

“Go home and relax, Hannah,” she interrupted again, drawing on some inner strength hidden well within to pull herself upright. “I can take care of checking the set tonight.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing lately, sitting home and… well, not relaxing, exactly. Obsessing would be more like it. We can check the set together, then.”

“Ted says… well, never mind what Ted says. Sometimes he’s such a know-it-all that it makes me want to scream. I swear to God, if I said ‘Knit one, purl two,’ he’d say, ‘No, Dorothy, think about it for a minute. It’s “‘Knit two, purl one.”’ And he doesn’t know a goddamn thing about knitting.”

Again, Dorothy had given me an opening to ask about her husband, and this time I leapt in with both feet. “It’s actually your husband that I wanted to ask you a question about.”

“Yes?”

“Were you aware that before she came to the Academy, Jennifer Goodall worked in the Pentagon for Navy Weapons Acquisition and Management?”

Dorothy’s skin was already pale as a result of her chemotherapy. I didn’t think it was possible for it to get any more so, but I was wrong. She collapsed into the upholstery, and whatever color remained in her face drained away, leaving it a chalky white, only serving to emphasize the bags, dark as bruises, under her eyes. The hand holding her coffee cup began to shake.

I took the cup and set it on the table. “Dorothy! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She laced her fingers together, squeezing until the knuckles grew white, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess you’re bound to find out anyway, you or that lawyer of yours.”

“Find out what?”

“That Ted and Jennifer Goodall were having an affair.”

“What?” Dorothy’s news hit me like a two-by-four between the eyes. But as I sat there, trying to catch my breath, pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. Admiral Hart’s unscheduled visits to the Academy, visits that surprised his wife as well as his son. Jennifer Goodall’s persistent presence in Mahan Hall. I added the admiral’s name to my growing list of suspects, right at the top of the list. I shivered, recalling the inside knowledge he seemed to have about my case. What was the sonofabitch up to, anyway? Was he planning to frame me?

“Had, actually,” Dorothy continued, twisting her hands. “Ted had broken it off. He told me that Jennifer was too needy.” She turned her wretched face to me. “As if I didn’t have needs, too.”

“Do you think that’s why your husband kept showing up at the Academy?”

“He was trying to work it out,” she sniffed, “but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She kept threatening to turn him in for conduct unbecoming.” Using her fingertips, she massaged her temples in little circles. “Whatever some high-level government muckety-mucks have been able to get away with, I can tell you that the Navy still frowns on officers having sex with their subordinates.”

“Even when it’s consensual? You said they were having an affair.”

“Well that’s it, then, isn’t it? Jennifer claimed it wasn’t consensual.”

Where had I heard that before?

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Dorothy, you read what the newspaper said about my case, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you know that Jennifer has tried this trick before. With my husband!”

“Looks like we both had a reason to wish her dead.” She dredged up a smile from somewhere and pasted it, lopsided, on her face.

“You and me, and how many others?” I wondered aloud.

Dorothy sat silently for a while, staring over my shoulder. “Ted, for instance,” she said dreamily, still staring at the wall.

Ted, indeed. Interesting how often the good admiral’s name kept coming up.

“Dorothy, look at me! You’ve been worrying about this, haven’t you? Losing sleep over it?”

She nodded.

“Your job-your only job-is to concentrate on getting well.”

“I know,” she squeaked, meek as a kitten.

“As much as I’d like someone else to be in the frame for Jennifer’s murder, if the FBI had evidence against Ted, surely they’d have arrested him by now, and not me.”

A tear rolled down one cheek and dripped, unheeded, onto her sweater. “I suppose.”

Hoping to steer the conversation in a less stressful direction, I said, “Dorothy, do you remember anybody who worked with your husband named Chris Donovan? A civilian?”

Dorothy had found a crumpled tissue in her pocket and was dabbing at her nose. “I don’t think so,” she said, giving her nose a good blow. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just someone whose name keeps coming up in connection with Jennifer Goodall,” I told her.

A shadow passed over Dorothy’s face, but just as quickly, it was gone. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Never heard of a Chris, but then, Ted works with hundreds and hundreds of people, all the world over.”

“I know,” I said. “And so did Lieutenant Jennifer Goodall, USN.” I sighed. “Seems to me that our pool of suspects just keeps expanding. Pretty soon we’ll need a stadium to hold them all.”

Dorothy stuffed her used tissue into the liquid still remaining in her coffee cup, straightened her shoulders and smiled a crooked but unconvincing smile. “I’ll ask Ted about Chris Donovan,” she offered. “If I find out anything, I’ll let you know. Deal?”

“Deal.”

As we left the Hart Room together, my arm around her shoulders, Dorothy turned to ask, “Hannah, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Tomorrow I have my chemo, as you know, so I probably won’t be up to much on Sunday. Could you check the sets before the matinee?”

“Of course,” I said as we started down the elegant marble staircase, side by side. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks.”

At the bottom of the stairs I turned to face her. “Dorothy, go home. Get some rest.”

She wrapped her arms around me in a brief hug. “Ditto ditto, Hannah.”