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ordinary popped up, the JAG would bring in a neutral observer from the staff. When the meeting was over, the staffer, who was never told what -the meeting was supposed to be about, would be asked for his or her take on things. “Got it, Captain,” she replied with a smile. 7 “And who’s the Mack truck out there?”
    “That’s the Mr. von Rensel from the NIS. Wolfgang Guderian von Rensel, to be precise. Warren Beasley’s relief, at long last. I can’t wait to hear the admiral’s reaction to him. ““Wolfgang von Rensel’? Now, there’s a good Irish name.”
    “Yeah, right. Somebody told me his nickname is Train.
    He’s been in the building before.. Naval Intelligence, I think. re Anyway, you may get to find out if this meeting develops into something.
    The admiral apparently told him to hang around for this meeting.” Ah,” she said. Vintage Carpenter again.
    “Exactly,” Mccarty said.
    A lighted button on his multiline phone-had just gone off.
    He stood up. “Okay, let’s rock and roll,” he said, picking up the phone and hitting the intercom button for Admiral Carpenter’s desk. “We’re ready, Admiral,” he said. He listened for a few seconds. “Yes, sir, she’s here. And Admiral Sherman. Right.”
    He hung up the phone and they went back out into the front office reception area. Admiral Carpenter’s aide came out of the inner office and asked them all to come in. Admiral Sherman went first, followed by the policeman and the EA. Karen saw that von Rensel had turned around from the window. His great size notwithstanding, he was an unusual-looking man. He had a high forehead with receding, very close-cut black hair. His alert brown . eyes were faintly Oriental in shape, and a large Roman nose presided forcefully over thin lips and a prominent chin. He looked directly into her eyes and smiled, until she realized with something of a start that he was waiting for her to precede him into the room. She recovered and nodded a silent hello before walking ahead of him into the admiral’s office. Out of the comer of her eye, she thought she detected an amused expression on his face.
    Admiral Carpenter was standing at the head of the conference table.
    “Morning, everybody,” he said, and made the introductions.
    Carpenter began by recapping the problem. “Admiral Sherman, this matter concerns an accidental death, as we’ve previously discussed. Detective Mcnair would like you to help him with his inquiries.”
    “How can I help you, Detective?” Sherman said. He was not smiling, and he focused intensely on the detective.
    Mcnair cleared his throat before beginning. “Admiral Sherman, this concerns a Ms. Elizabeth Walsh. I assume the admiral here has told you what happened?”
    Karen saw Sherman’s face tighten. “Yes. He said that she had an accident of some kind in her house and died from her injuries. Is that correct?”
    “Yes, sir. That’s what it looks like to us right now. We understand that you, ah, knew Ms. Walsh?”
    “Yes.” He looked down at the table for a moment before continuing. “Ms.
    She and I were … dating. Until about six months . ago.
    “And may we ask, sir, why you stopped dating?”
    Sherman hesitated, and Carpenter stepped into the conversation.
    “Detective, I think we need to know where everybody stands before Admiral Sherman answers that. Could you please explain where you are in your investigation and what Admiral Sherman’s status is?”
    Mcnair opened his notebook. “Last Saturday morning, the police were called in when Ms. Walsh’s neighbor, a Mrs. Klein, reported that she had found Ms. Walsh lying at the bottom of the stairs going down into her town house basement level. It appeared to Mrs. Klein that Ms. Walsh had fallen down the stairs, and that she was deceased. Mrs. Klein was very upset.”
    Karen watched Sherman as he listened to the detective recite the grim facts. She realized from his expression that the relationship between Elizabeth Walsh and