Chapter 8 - Fishing for Clues

Lee reassumed his position by Rachael. Roger's arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

"Hey beautiful. How are you?"

"First time you ever called me that."

"We're not working now."

"Stick with 'Red'. That boat's done sunk."

"Ouch. My pride, my ego. I'm wounded."

"It's not all about you."

"I'm just kidding, Red. We've got some serious problems in front of us, so let's maybe cut through the preliminaries."

"No foreplay. Same old."

"Red, this is serious. I found a snubbed-nose S&W on the grass."

"So?"

"With the initials R.A.M. and it was hot."

"That's impossible."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen that gun in over a year. I didn't have in on me when . . . when . . ."

"It's okay, Red, you don't have to go into it. Where was it when you last saw it?"

"Saudi. Base camp. It was just a back up popgun for covert missions. I never carried that in uni. My sidearm and a rifle, those I always had."

"Okay, so it must have gotten sent back to the states. Where would it have been sent?"

"My place," Roger realized aloud. "The Marine battalion was scheduled to decamp Saudi last month. I got a call about Rach's effects. I told them to send them to my place. I never received them."

"Well someone did, unless it's a replica."

"I didn't shoot her, Roger. I wouldn't, I couldn't, not with her pregnant anyway."

"Not funny, Red," Lee said.

"It's true."

Roger nodded. "I believe you, although I don't think you'd have done it even if she wasn't pregnant."

"No, because you wouldn't have been marrying the stupid cow then."

"Red, get it under control. There are ears everywhere," Lee chided.

"Sounds like I'm screwed anyway. What difference does it make?"

"It does to us. We won't let you get railroaded for something you didn't do."

"Jail's as good a place for me as any other."

"I see. Well, I would prefer that it be a friendly one so let's see what our friends, Admirals Nelson and Johnson, can come up with quickly."

"You didn't?" Rachael shook her head.

"Any port in a storm, Red."

"Why didn't you ever tell me that when I gave a shit, Curly?"

"Hey guys, keep it down. We're starting to sound like the Three Stooges. We don't need the attention."

"Shouldn't you be with your bride-to-be's family now?" Rachael snapped.

"She's right, Roger. It'd be better for appearances if you tended to them now."

A few moments later, the residue testing began in alphabetic order. Lee was fifth to go. It took only a minute. During that short interlude, Rachael had drifted out of her chair. Lee scanned the room, not seeing her. He felt a little panicked knowing that she'd been suicidal several times in the past year.

"I need to check on a friend," Lee told the cop by the bathrooms.

"You were just in there forever."

"The ladies' room this time."

"You a pervert?"

"She's a Gulf War vet suffering from PTSD. The shooting really rocked her."

"The redhead who's best man, lady, whatever the hell they call it?"

"Yes."

"Go on. She did look kind of freaked if you ask me."