Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter people…computer trouble!!!!

Chapter 10

1st District Police Station

Washington D.C.

Tuesday, 14th May, 05:22 ZULU

A.J. and Mac sat impatiently in the shabby interview room with its dog eared posters warning of the dangers of catching HIV from infected needles and out of date ten most wanted's. It had been over an hour since they had been shown inside and they had been left alone ever since. Initially, they had been able to use the time productively. A.J. had briefed Mac on how the police had turned up at his house and she had contacted the A.D.A. and arranged for Harm and Bud's release. She had escorted them out of the station and given them instructions to go straight home half an hour earlier. Unfortunately, she had been unable to get in touch with Bernstein but she had heard him arriving shortly after she and Chegwidden had been placed in the room. She assumed that Sheffield had phoned him before leaving his home and was grateful that one person beside herself had remembered the golden rule for dealing with the police that night. Now she and the Admiral waited for their turn to be interviewed.

A.J. had been silent for several minutes but the tension building inside him was clear when he finally spoke. "Surely they don't think Sheffield or I had anything to do with Pirelli's death?" he burst out.

Mac shrugged. "After Watergate, Irangate and all the other gates, this Town will believe anything." she replied.

A.J. got up and stretched. "What's taking them so long?" he asked.

"Sir, you need to try and stay calm. They're leaving us to stew. You know that's a standard interrogation technique and you mustn't let it get to you. Beside, they're probably still interviewing the SECNAV."

A.J. glared at her, "I know all about interrogation techniques Colonel, both as a lawyer and a former SEAL!"

Mac didn't let her superior intimidate her. "I know Admiral. But it's different when you're innocent."

A.J. stared at her, and then collapsed in his chair. "You're right, of course. But it's easier said than done!" After a pause he asked, "Sam Bruckner knows us. She's worked closely with JAG on a couple of cases. Does she really think we're deliberately obstructing justice here?"

Mac considered, "I'm fairly sure her boss does. Sam herself, maybe not, but I think she believes we're keeping things from her."

The Admiral gave a rueful smile, "Well, she's not entirely wrong about that." he admitted.

The conversation came to a halt as the door opened and Detective Coster entered, accompanied by another detective and a uniformed officer. "Hi, sorry to keep you folks waiting, I hope you've been well looked after." He looked round. "Hasn't anyone offered you coffee?" he asked. "Hey, I'm sorry. I thought I'd organized refreshments for you earlier." He turned to the uniform, "Costello, get these people some coffee. How do you take it? Oh, and bring some cookies too."

A.J. and Mac both recognized this as one of the standard openings to an interview, intended to get the person being questioned to bond with the interrogator. On the other hand, they were hungry and thirsty so they accepted the offer and Costello disappeared to fetch their orders. The other detective remained standing in the corner.

Coster leaned back in his chair and looked at the two naval officers across the table from him. "I was only just saying to Secretary Sheffield that we don't often play host to important government officials' here." he said conversationally. "It's a shame it has to be under these circumstances but I'm sure you'll co-operate so we can finish up quickly."

Mac remembered the man and the run around JAG had given him from the Roscoe Martin affair nearly five years ago. She hoped he didn't hold grudges. She and the Admiral had already discussed their strategy and agreed that telling the truth was not only the most ethical way forward, it was also the safest. Of course, Coster and anyone else for that matter might think it was odd for the Judge Advocate General to be meeting with a criminal defendant and their lawyer but it wasn't actually illegal. The situation was complicated by them not knowing what Sheffield and Bernstein might have told him but there didn't seem to be any advantage to them lying about it.

"I'm Admiral Chegwidden's attorney. He has nothing to hide. Please ask your questions." she replied.

Coster nodded enthusiastically. "That's great! OK, where were you this evening Admiral?"

Chegwidden answered, "I left JAG HQ at about 6 o'clock and drove into Washington where I met with Secretary Sheffield and his lawyer at Mr. Bernstein's law office. I got there at about 7 o'clock. We had a drink and talked for a while. Mr. Sheffield and I left just before 8. We split up on the sidewalk and I went directly home, arriving there at nine-ish or so."

"Any witnesses to that?"

"Not unless you count my dog." A.J. answered.

"That's a bit unfortunate." Coster noted.

A.J. shrugged, "If you did a survey right now, I bet you'd find a lot of people who can't find anyone to confirm their whereabouts at 9:30 this evening."

"Why 9:30?" Coster barked.

A.J. stared him straight in the face. "Because I understand from Colonel Mackenzie that was the approximate time Thomas Pirelli was murdered." He sat back and smiled at the detective, "Come on Coster, this ain't about unpaid traffic tickets!"

"Hum! You're right, a lot of people couldn't provide an alibi witness for a particular time, but then they aren't military. I've had a look at your record, Admiral. You were a SEAL sniper in 'Nam. So, you're experienced with guns and killing."

"I did my duty." A.J. said tightly.

"I'm sure you did." Neither A.J. nor Mac missed the undertone of sarcasm in Coster's voice. Then he seemed to change tack, "When you left Sheffield, did he say where he was going?"

"He said he was going home."

Coster changed the subject again, a common approach in interviews designed to disorientate witnesses and make it more difficult for them to maintain a consistent lie. "What route did you take home?"

"I got on the Southeast Parkway, went over the bridge to I395 and turned off at the Little River Turnpike. After that I used the back roads."

Coster scribbled this down. "We'll see if there's any CCTV footage to confirm that." he said. "What were you and the others talking about in Bernstein's law office?"

"I was volunteering to use some of my off-duty time to help with Secretary Sheffield's defense. I'm not prepared to go into further detail."

"As a Federal employee, don't you have a conflict of interest?"

"That's for an ethics hearing to determine, not the police." A.J. replied coldly.

"OK, OK. I'm only saying! I'd like you to stay here while we check out your story."

Mac intervened. "Admiral Chegwidden has answered your questions. He will make himself available for further questioning, IF you think it necessary after you've finished your checks. I'm sure you don't want to detain a senior U.S Navy officer unnecessarily so he's leaving now. Unless, that is, you want to arrest him for something?"

Coster paused. "We'll be in touch Admiral. Just don't leave town without checking with us first." He got up and left, the other detective following.

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Thomas Pirelli's Residence

31, West Caroline Avenue

Beltsville, Maryland

Tuesday, 14th May, 09:43 ZULU

After leaving the police station, Bud and Harm had gone direct to Harm's place. Bud had phoned Harriet and reassured her he was safe and well and checked on the kids before they had both crashed for a few hours. They had woken early and phoned in to work to take some personal time. The Admiral hadn't yet shown up so they had spoken to Coates who told them the place was awash with rumors about the killing of Pirelli and the Admiral being taken in for questioning. After a quick breakfast they'd driven to Beltville and now sat in Harm's car across the street from Pirelli's address. It was a decent neighborhood, the houses undistinguished architecturally but well maintained.

"What about the police, Sir?" Bud asked worriedly.

"That's the good thin with having a decentralized law enforcement system, Bud." Harm explained. "The murder happened in Washington, so as far as the police here are concerned it's NOP, Not Our Problem. The most they'll have done is tell Pirelli's landlady she needs to find a new lodger and maybe, as a courtesy to the D.C. police, quickly searched his room. They'll have enough crime here in Beltsville to keep them occupied without getting involved in stuff happening elsewhere."

"That doesn't include the Feds." Bud pointed out.

Harm gave him a big smile, "Exactly why we need to get in quick." he said. "Let's go."

They got out of the car and strolled across the street, knocking on the door to number 31. An elderly, severe looking woman with an old fashioned bun wound tight on the top of her head answered.

Harm gave her a sympathetic smile. "Mrs. Doran?" he asked. When she nodded affirmation, he went on, "Harmon Rabb and Bud Roberts. We were with Tom just before it happened. We know you and he were close so we thought we'd come and offer our condolences."

The woman looked them up and down and they could feel her appraising them. Nice, clean cut, respectable folks they could almost hear her thinking. She took out a hankie and dabbed her eyes before smiling at them.

"Such a nice, polite boy, not at all like so many of the others his age. I was like a second mother to him. So sad, but that's what happens in the big cities these days. I'll miss him. You were friends of his?"

"We weren't close but we knew him." Harm replied carefully.

She nodded, "Well come in. Do you want a cup of tea and some cake?"

"Thank you Ma'm that will be great!" Bud replied.

They sat in the large reception room as Mrs. Doran busied herself in the kitchen after refusing their offers of help. Finally, she returned with a tray and poured their tea.

"So, do you know when the funeral's going to take place?" she asked. "I guess his poor parents are going to want to take the body home to Jayes Crossing. I was thinking of arranging a small memorial service for all his friends here... or is the University organizing something?"

"I'm not sure Ma'm I think it's too early for them to have decided. If we hear anything, we'll let you know." Bud replied through a mouthful of cake.

"What about his employers?" Harm asked. "Are they doing anything? Didn't he work for Sensa-Tech during vacations? I understand they'd given him a scholarship."

"Oh yes! I know they thought very highly of him. Why the head of their Research Division visited him here several times and a couple of senior executives came over to see him only a week or so ago! He had such a bright future ahead of him. All this violence these days! I blame lethal injection. Where's the deterrent in executing these killers in the same way you'd put your old and sick pet dog out of its misery?"

"Some people from Sensa-Tech were here recently?" Harm said, gently guiding her back to the point. "Do you know who they were? Maybe we could contact them to find out if they're planning some sort of memorial."

Mrs. Doran frowned, "I don't remember their names but Tom took me to a company barbeque once and I remember seeing them there. I took pictures. Maybe if I give you one with them in, it'll help you track them down."

"That would be great, Ma'm, thanks."

The landlady rose and went to a cupboard and opened it. It was full of photograph albums, each one carefully labeled. Harm assumed photography was at least one of her hobbies. She took one out and began leafing through it. "I can't remember exactly when it was." she explained, "But if it's not in this one, it'll be in the one just before or after."

"Take your time, Mrs. Doran. We're in no hurry." Harm assured her. "Oh, would it be OK to use your bathroom please?"

She nodded. "Of course young man. It's at the top of the stairs on your right."

"Thanks." Harm turned to Bud and his unspoken message was clear. Keep her busy while I check out Pirelli's bedroom.

Bud's concern was clear but he nodded his understanding and agreement.

T.B.C.