The Major's Wife. Anthony Whyte

weeks?”

      “It’s best you ask the bartender. He’s been here the longest, and he knows everyone around here. Are you a detective or somebody like that?” the waitress asked McAlister.

      “I am someone like that,” McAlister said.

      Then McAlister began chatting it up with the waitress. She was pretty and held McAlister’s interest. Smiling, Sharkey said, “Don’t forget to get her number, lover boy.”

      Sharkey walked to the bar and left a bug in the bartender’s ears before leaving the Blue Oyster bar.

      CHAPTER

      6

      By the time the retired general touchdown in Enterprise, Alabama, not only didn’t the police have any further leads, but they also had failed to question the in-laws. The victim’s father’s emotions ran high when he saw an unmarked car driven by Sergeant Eubanks pulled to a stop alongside him. Folding the newspaper he was reading, the retired general returned the salute offered by Eubanks.

      “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Sergeant Eubanks. I am your driver. Sorry about your loss, sir. May I help you with your bags?”

      “No, thank you, Sergeant. I got it,” Vaughn King said, grabbing his duffel.

      “Would you like to go to your quarters, and—”

      “Take me to the morgue, please. Thank you, Sergeant.”

      They drove in silence to the morgue. The retired general appeared more infuriated after seeing and identifying his son’s body. He seemed at a loss when he walked back to the car, and Eubanks asked, “Where would like to go—”

      “Cut out all this saluting shit, and take me to the school’s Commandant. Now Sergeant!” King said, dismissing her salute.

      The baby-faced Eubanks stood five feet ten inches tall. Athletically built, she appeared sculpted from bronze, with deep, gray eyes. An honor graduate from the Military Intelligence, her specialty being weapons and riot control, Sheryl Eubanks was an expert at high profile escort missions. After graduating from Yonkers high school, Sheryl Eubanks joined the army in 2003. Now faced with escorting the retired general, who appeared overly agitated, Eubanks tried to stay even keel.

      “Are you allowed to wear jewelry with duty uniform, soldier?” King asked with a harsh tone.

      “Yes, sir. It changes from command to command, but the female soldier is allowed—”

      “I guess many things have changed in this man’s army, Sergeant,” King said, interrupting.

      Putting the pedal to the metal, Eubanks arrived at the Aviation Center in no time. The general was on his cellphone when the sedan pulled to a stop in front of the school’s Commandant’s office. All the time, King wore a scowl on his face and was busy calling in favors to help find a resolution to his son’s murder. He was intense and didn’t mind grandstand that his son was a highly decorated aviator. Using this kind of tactic assured King that essential people would immediately jump at his request for assistance.

      He was not in the best of moods, and Eubanks didn’t want to disturb his conversation. She quietly listened and waited. King highlighted the fact that his son came from a long line of highly decorated service members.

      When he ended the call, Eubanks said, “Sir, we’re here—”

      “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll be right back,” King said, cutting her off.

      Wrought with anger and frustration, the senior King got out of the vehicle. He hurriedly made his way inside his friend’s office, and Commandant of the flight school, General Dan Mason.

      Sergeant Eubanks was on her cellphone, making a call as soon as King walked away.

      “Captain Blackbird, I picked up the general from Enterprise airport, and he’s not in a very good mood… He’s on his way to see General Mason. I wouldn’t want to get in his way. He’s peeved. Over and out.”

      King walked into the Commandant’s office and appeared lost. He looked for the appropriate office. He spotted the door with Brigadier General D. Mason’s name stenciled on it and headed in that direction.

      “May I help you, sir?” an assistant, and a guard on duty tried to engage King.

      “No,” King said, walking by the soldiers.

      “You can’t go past this point without checking in, sir—”

      Under their protest, King walked into Mason’s office just as two soldiers caught up with him. His office door opened, the general glanced up from a pile of papers on his desk.

      “It’s okay, sergeants. This is retired, General King.”

      “Sorry about that, sir. I didn’t know—”

      “That’s alright, Sergeant. Please close the door.”

      “Yessir!” the Sergeant saluted and followed the order, leaving both men staring at each other.

      King and Mason were old friends, but this meeting was cloudy. The death of King’s only child brought grief to what should be pleasant. There were no smiles. Mason walked to where the devastated King stood, and the two friends embraced. It ended with a pat on his back. The stoic King walked to the desk and looked at all the decorations hanging on the wall.

      “I went to the morgue, Dan. My son’s cold body is lying in the morgue,” King said in an emotional tone.

      “We’re going to find the culprit or culprits. I promise you, Vaughn. We’ll do everything possible to find your son’s killer, and you’ll have justice. You have my word on that as a friend and admirer of you and your family’s loyalty to our great nation. I. We owe that much gratitude to you.”

      “And is that why there we were agents from the Federal Bureau all over the airport? I noticed one tailing us in.”

      “Oh yes, Vaughn. There’s heightened security around the base, extending to all your movements. We’re not ruling out a possible terrorist hit.”

      There was a deadly silence. Mason went decades back with the King family and served with the retired general since he returned from the Vietnam War. They rose through the ranks together, and Mason was now the commander of Fort Rucker Army base. He was in charge of running the elite Army Aviation School, where King’s son was assigned. Mason felt a deep sense of responsibility to the family of his friend. He wanted to provide all the resources he could muster.

      “If it was a terrorist hit, then why did it have to be Vaughn Junior? Why Dan?” King asked, shrugging.

      Dan Mason waited through an intense silence then said, “I can’t give you the answer to that. But I can tell you that I feel terrible that it happened on my watch. And I’ll do everything in my power to bring the punks that did this to justice.”

      The retired general glanced over at the accomplishments, framed, and displayed on the office wall. “He’s no punk, Dan. The man we’re looking for is a skilled killer. My son was shot in both knees that served to bring him down. Then there were bullets in his heart. The person who executed my son was skilled—sharp—an expert in ambush.”

      “It sounds to me like you’re describing one of ours. Wait a minute. Are you saying that you think your son’s killer could be one of us? You mean army personnel killing a captain? But why?”

      “That’s what I want you to find out, Dan. Those bullets were precisely aimed. They had to be fired by a person or persons who knew about tight grouping. What about the ballistics test?”

      “We’ll have that in a day or so. Captain Blackbird is on her way in to brief you on the progress of the investigation.”

      “What about that redneck father of his wife? Have the police spoken with him yet? I’m sure he has some interesting things to say. Dan, you know when I found out the type of family that my son was getting involved in. It’s no secret. I was very much against