Murder at the Pentagon by Margaret Truman Read Free Book Online Page A

the Officers’ Club, but had a drink with some chaplains attached to the Air Force Chief of Chaplains Office who were celebrating a birthday—chief topic of conversation, the Joycelen murder.
    After a quick and quiet dinner by herself in the club’s Washington Room restaurant—Jeff had accompanied Senator Wishengrad to Wisconsin for the weekend—she sat in her quarters until after midnight reading Project Safekeep files, the all-news radio station WTOP kept on low volume beside her in the event there was an announcement of a break in the Joycelen case. No such announcement was made, although the murder led off each twenty-minute news round. If a suspect had been identified, the media hadn’t got wind of it.
    She awoke before her alarm clock did its job, thanks to a torrential downpour and the stiff wind that erupted with it. The weather posed a transportation question for Margit—car or bus? She’d get soaked walking to catch the bus. On the other hand, if she took her car, she’d get soaked walkingfrom her parking space. Always some major decision to make, Major. One of the things Margit enjoyed about being in the military was that the choice of what to wear each morning depended only upon the seasons. No need to debate whether this scarf went with that blouse, whether this skirt matched that jacket. There was summer and there was winter, with dress versions of each to be worn as appropriate for the occasion.
    She sat next to a captain with whom she’d become acquainted on previous bus rides. Assigned to the Office of Special Investigations (OSI), whose headquarters was at Bolling, he was a pleasant, open sort of fellow, not the investigator type. She couldn’t resist: “Anything new on the Dr. J. murder?”
    “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
    “Just curious. Do you think they’ll ever solve it?”
    “ ‘They’ll?’ ”
    “The investigators. Your office.”
    “I’m not involved with it,” he said. “I’ve spent the last two months investigating commissary theft.”
    “Oh. Mice?” She smiled and turned to a Dick Francis paperback mystery that had been her bus companion the past few days.
    Jay Kraft was out again, which didn’t displease Margit. She had settled at her desk and started to write a report when Max Lanning motioned for her to join him in the hall.
    “What?” she asked.
    “It’s coming down in an hour.”
    “The Joycelen case?”
    “Yes, ma’am. His name is Cobol. Robert Cobol, captain, United States Army.”
    “The CIA liaison officer you mentioned?”
    “I think so.” He looked up and down the hall, waited until a battery-powered cart passed them, then leaned into her ear. “Can I tell you something strictly off the record? QT? For your ears only?”
    “As long as it’s not classified.”
    “I would never tell you anything classified, Major Falk.The word is that this Captain Cobol killed Dr. Joycelen over a personal matter.”
    “Death’s always pretty personal,” Margit said.
    They stopped talking. A tour led by a backward-peddling army corporal rounded the corner and came in their direction, the tour leader spouting a canned speech they all used. After they’d passed, Lanning said, “They were lovers.”
    “Joycelen? This Cobol?”
    “That’s the word.”
    Margit leaned against the wall. “Joycelen was married twice. He was engaged to be married again. I met his woman. She was no transvestite.”
    “That’s what I heard, which makes the story seem stupid. Right?”
    She looked directly into his eyes. “Right.”
    “I’m just passing on what I heard. They’re making the announcement at ten.”
    “Where?”
    “Here. In the building. I don’t know any more than that.”
    “You seem to know a lot.”
    “I keep my ears open. Hey, you don’t mind that I share this with you, do you? I mean, I figured you’d be interested, that’s all.”
    “No, I don’t mind. It’s nice of you. I suppose we’ll all know the real story at ten. I have to get