Dead Soldiers

by Crider, Bill

  He opened his middle desk drawer and took out a Pilot Rolling Ball Extra Fine pen and a yellow legal pad. On the first line of the pad he wrote, “The Ten Best Western Movies of All Time.“ Then he started writing movie names, not in any particular order but simply as they occurred to him.

  The Searchers, Red River, Rio Bravo, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, Stagecoach, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, Rio Grande, Fort Apache.

  Wait a minute, Burns thought. If I don’t watch out, every movie on the list will have John Wayne in it.

  He thought hard and after a minute or so wrote down The Magnificent Seven.

  Another few seconds of thought and he came up with Shane.

  Then he remembered Clint Eastwood. The Outlaw Josey Wales? Or should he put down one of the spaghetti westerns? Or Unforgiven? Yes, that was it. He wrote that one down and followed it with Ride the High Country. How many was that? He counted. Eleven. Something had to go.

  He was stuck for a minute, but then he crossed out The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence. As soon as he did it, he heard the ink-jet printer begin to crank out a page.

  “I’ve got a test here from Ms. Nelson,“ Bunni said, by way of explanation. “If it’s all right, I’ll take it to her and then leave a little early. I need to study for a math test.“

  Burns told her that she could leave early and that he was sure she’d do fine on the math test. As soon as she was out the door, he grabbed the phone and called Dr. Partridge. Melva Jeans answered and put him through to the dean.

  “I got the list of people who came to the party,“ Burns said. “I have a few questions about it.“

  “I’d rather not discuss it on the phone,“ Partridge said. “Or even on campus, for that matter.“

  Burns thought that she was being overly cautious, but he said that he’d be glad to meet her after school hours.

  “Come by my house,“ she said. “I’ll meet you there shortly after five o’clock.“

  “I’ll be there,“ Burns said, hoping he wouldn’t meet Billy again. Once had been enough.

  When Partridge met Burns at the door, she didn’t look happy. Burns didn’t blame her. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the situation himself.

  “Come in,“ Partridge said. “I thought you might like to look at the scene of the crime.“

  “Matthew Hart was killed here?“ Burns said.

  “Of course not. But the soldiers were taken. I thought that a good look at the den might give you some ideas.“

  “I’m not so sure I want to get any ideas. I’ve been warned not to have anything to do with the investigation of Matthew Hart’s death.“

  Partridge ignored his comment. “Come to the kitchen,“ she said.

  She turned and walked away. After a second, Burns followed her. The kitchen was large and modern, with an island in the middle. Burns wondered if cooking was one of Partridge’s hobbies.

  “Have a seat,“ Partridge said, nodding toward the breakfast table. “I’ll get you a drink. I have Pepsi and Mountain Dew. Which would you prefer?“

  “How about ice water?“ Burns said.

  “Fine. I don’t have any designer water, though. Will tap water do?“

  “Tap water would be fine.“

  Burns sat at the table and waited while Partridge poured herself a Pepsi One and then fixed a glass of ice water for Burns. She brought the drinks to the table and set them on paper napkins.

  “Now,“ she said, sitting opposite Burns, “let’s talk.“

  “You first,“ Burns said.

  Partridge took a sip of Pepsi. “I’ve already told you my story.“

  “Yes, but a few things have happened since you told it.“

  “Those things don’t have anything to do with what we discussed, however.“

  Burns didn’t want to be rude intentionally. His “You’re kidding“ just slipped out.

  “I beg your pardon?“

  “Didn’t Boss Napier come by to see you today?“ Burns asked.

  “Yes. R. M. was in my office for a while.“

  “And didn’t he tell you about Matthew Hart?“

  “Yes, he told me.“

  Burns took a big swallow of ice water and set the glass back on the napkin.

  “Then I don’t see how you can say our discussion doesn’t have a connection to Hart’s murder. One of your soldiers was found by his body.“

  “That’s true,“ Partridge said. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.“

  Burns shook his head. “Maybe I’m just a little slow today, but it certainly means something to me. Why don’t you explain why it shouldn’t.“

  “Let’s just say that you’re making a few too many assumptions. For instance, it sounds to me as if you’re assuming that whoever killed Mr. Hart left the soldier at the scene.“

  Napier had certainly implied that, but Burns now realized that he hadn’t actually said it.

  “Didn’t it happen that way?“ Burns asked.

  “I don’t know, and neither do you. Neither does R. M. for that matter. All we know is that the soldier was there. What if Mr. Hart is the one who took it?“

  “He wasn’t at the party, was he?“ Burns said.

  “Of course he was. He was one of the college’s major benefactors. Haven’t you looked over that list I sent you?“

  Burns had to admit that he hadn’t looked at all of it.

  “I just looked at the highlighted names,“ he said.

  “You should have looked at the others. Mr. Hart came to the back yard, but he might have wandered into the house and taken the soldiers later on.“

  “If he did, then there are five more somewhere in his house,“ Burns said.

  “Maybe. Or maybe they’re in his office. Or his car. Or a safety deposit box.“

  “Right,“ Burns said, getting the point. “They could be anywhere. If he took them.“

  “Perhaps you could find out.“

  “That’s another thing we need to talk about,“ Burns said. “Napier told me that he didn’t want me to get involved in Hart’s murder. He made it pretty plain.“

  “I’m sure he did. He has a way of speaking plainly. But remember, what we’re talking about has nothing to do with the murder. You’re just looking into the theft of my soldiers.“

  Well, that was one way to interpret things. Partridge was nothing if not devious. No wonder she was a dean. But Burns wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.

  “You didn’t mention that he was at your party,“ he said. “Is that why you didn’t want to call the police?“

  “I told you about that. I didn’t want to create any trouble for our students.“

  “And I believe you. But is it possible that you thought Boss Napier might have taken those soldiers?“

  Partridge said, “Of course not,“ but Burns didn’t think she really meant it.

  “He’d seen them before, hadn’t he?“

  “Yes. He collects playsets, as you well know, and he was interested in my soldiers. Of course he’s not a suspect.“

  Again, she didn’t sound as if she meant it, but Burns decided to move on.

  “We can eliminate the two students, too. Bunni and George would never steal anything.“

  “I agree,“ Partridge said.

  This time she sounded sincere. What Burns didn’t like about that was the fact that Bunni and George were apparently the only two students who’d been inside the house. If they weren’t suspects, then which students was Partridge trying to protect?

  “If we leave out Bunni, George, and Napier,“ Burns said, “that leaves us with only eight people who might have taken the soldiers.“

  He took the list out of his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on the table. He smoothed it out with his hand.

  “Let’s start with the first name,“ he said.

  Chapter Ten

  Partridge put her finger on the first name: Harvey Ball.

  “We might as well include his wife,“ she said. “She’s next, and it will be easier
to talk about both of them together.“

  Burns wasn’t sure that was true, but he was willing to go along with it.

  “All right,“ he said. “Harvey and Karen Ball. Here’s what I know about them. He’s a lawyer, and his office is in the Universal Bank Building. He’s on the college board, and has been for ten years. His wife took some courses at HGC a few years ago and got her teaching certificate because she wanted to get out of the house. I think she teaches math at the high school. As far as I know they don’t have any connection with Matthew Hart.“

  “We’re not discussing Mr. Hart,“ Partridge reminded him. “We’re discussing my soldiers.“

  “Sorry. I forgot.“ Burns picked up his glass and looked at it. “Must be something in this water.“

  “I’ll assume that you’re joking.“

  “Thank you. It wasn’t a very good joke.“

  Partridge didn’t smile. “No, it wasn’t. Now, here’s something you don’t know about Mr. Ball. He’s a Civil War buff. When they go on vacation, he and his wife like to tour battlegrounds. They’ve been to all the major ones and a lot of the minor ones. So there’s a military connection.“

  “Book him, Dan-O,“ Burns said.

  Partridge just looked at him. After a second or two she said, “Another joke?“

  “I’m afraid so.“

  Partridge frowned. “I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should be, Dr. Burns.“

  She was right. But if she wanted serious, Burns could be serious.

  “What’s Ball’s connection with Matthew Hart?“ he asked.

  “I told you—“

  “That we weren’t discussing Hart. I know that. But let’s just say that I’m curious. Do you happen to know of any connection between Hart and Harvey Ball? Or Karen Ball for that matter.“

  “No, I don’t. You might run across something in your investigation, but I’d advise you not to do anything about it. That would be a job for the police.“

  Oh, brother, Burns thought. Franklin Miller had better watch out, or Partridge would have his job as president of HGC before the year was out. She was that slippery.

  “Let’s talk about my ’investigation’ for just a minute,“ Burns said. “I’m not sure I should do anything. It might not be a good idea at all.“

  “And why not? You’ll just be asking a few questions. Anyone has a right to do that.“

  “We’re not talking about what rights I have or don’t have. We’re talking about the fact that I’ve been threatened with Boss Napier’s bullwhip.“

  Partridge surprised Burns by laughing. Maybe she did have a sense of humor after all. Except that this time Burns hadn’t been kidding.

  “I’m sure those stories about R. M. and his bullwhip have been greatly exaggerated,“ Partridge said. “He’s really a very sensitive person.“

  Sensitive wasn’t the first word that would have occurred to Burns had he been asked to describe Boss Napier. It would have been much lower on the list, down around number two hundred, probably. Or lower.

  “He might seem sensitive to you,“ Burns said. “But you’ve never been threatened by him.“

  Partridge looked demure, or as demure as it was possible for a dean to look.

  “What makes you so sure?“ she asked.

  Now there was a line of thought Burns definitely did not want to pursue. He decided that he’d better get the conversation back on track.

  “All right, forget that. Let’s look at the next name. Steven Stilwell. He’s an antiques dealer with what passes in Pecan City for an exclusive clientele. People come here from Dallas, Houston, and even from out of state to shop at his store.“

  “Yes,“ Partridge said. “The man’s a treasure, an absolute treasure.“

  It figured, Burns thought. Stilwell knew how to play up to people, especially women. With his shaggy hair and rough-trimmed beard, he had a sort of slimy charm. He’d presented a number of well-attended programs on campus, and Burns had to admit that he talked well about antiques. Besides that, he’d given a great deal of money to HGC. Burns suspected ulterior motives for the gifts. Stilwell seemed like the kind of man who’d love to have a building named after him. Or maybe he was after a co-ed. He had a reputation as a womanizer.

  “Antiques,“ Burns said. “I wonder—has he ever expressed an interest in your soldiers?“

  “I don’t believe that he’s a suspect,“ Partridge said. “He would never stoop to taking something that wasn’t his.“

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,“ Burns said. “An antique dealer is a man who likes to go out in the country and find an old piece of glass that’s worth a small fortune and pay someone forty cents for it.“

  “But that’s just good business.“

  Yes, Burns thought, Partridge would definitely be president of the college within the year if Miller didn’t watch his back.

  “But he couldn’t do business with you, could he?“ Burns said.

  “No,“ Partridge said. “He offered to buy the soldiers, but he didn’t want to pay what they were worth.“

  “Just what did he offer?“ Burns asked.

  “Three hundred dollars at first. But he went up to five.“

  “And they’re worth ten times that.“

  “Well, yes.“

  “Now, what if he had a customer for them, someone who really, really wanted them, but you refused to sell them. Do you think he might be tempted to take them if he was alone in the room with them?“

  “Absolutely not. In my mind, he simply isn’t a suspect. And that’s all there is to it.“

  Burns decided not to say what was in his own mind. But he didn’t agree with the dean at all. He thought Stilwell would grab the soldiers in a second if he thought there was a buck in it. And he wondered who insured all those valuable antiques. Could it have been Matthew Hart?

  “We’ll go on to the next name, then,“ Burns said. “I’ve known Robert Yowell for a few years now. He’s a pharmacist at Pecan City Drug. I’d say pharmacists have to be pretty honest people, considering that they deal in life and death prescriptions all the time. He’s also a member of the HGC board.“

  “Board members can be suspects,“ Partridge said.

  “But Yowell’s not a Civil War buff or an antiques dealer, is he?“

  “No, but that doesn’t mean there’s no connection.“

  Burns wondered what the connection could possibly be. He certainly couldn’t think of one.

  Partridge could, and she told him. “He and Matthew Hart have had several violent arguments about the college’s present administration and its future.“

  Burns looked at his water. Most of the ice was melted now, but the outside of the glass was still beaded with moisture. Burns took a drink. The water was still cold.

  “I’m sure that’s very interesting, but of course we aren’t talking about Matthew Hart here.“

  “Absolutely not. I just thought I might mention their . . . rivalry. Mr. Hart was a conservative, what you might even call an ultra-conservative. He didn’t like some of the recent changes on campus.“

  He wasn’t the only one, Burns thought. Burns hadn’t agreed with a lot of them himself. But the changes hadn’t been all bad, and Burns, like most of the other faculty members, liked the atmosphere of academic freedom that the administration fostered. Hart probably hadn’t.

  “I take it that Mr. Yowell supported the changes,“ he said.

  “Most of them. He’s very progressive.“

  “That’s good to know. What about Neal Bruce? I don’t know much about him except that he works at the bank. And that he’s on the board.“

  “His grandfather founded the Universal Bank. It was a state bank for many years, until Neal’s father sold it to the holding company. Neal is still there, but he’s just a figurehead. The holding company is trying to make it appear that there’s still a connection to the community when there really isn’t.“

  “And does Neal collect toy soldiers?“

&n
bsp; “As a matter of fact, he does. He has a quite wonderful collection. His grandfather began giving him Britains for his birthday when he was just a few years old, and now he’s buying Staddens for himself.“

  Burns took it that Stadden was another manufacturer of toy soldiers. He wondered if Napier had ever seen Bruce’s collection.

  “I assume that Bruce has seen and admired your Britains,“ Burns said.

  “Yes. He even mentioned once that he’d like to buy them if I ever decided to sell.“

  There was something else to check on. Could Bruce have tried to work through Stilwell to get the soldiers? Or had he simply mentioned to the antique dealer that he’d like to buy them?

  “What about Rex and Suzanne Cody, then?“ Burns asked. “Are they collectors, too?“

  “No, but they like fine things. Suzanne is on our board, and not just because her husband has made millions of dollars in the petroleum business. She’s one of Mr. Stilwell’s best customers, and she’s given some very nice things to the college dormitories. She furnished the sitting room in the student center, too. Did you know that?“

  Burns knew, of course. It was had to miss the big mahogany- and-brass plaque just inside the door that said “The furnishings in this room were donated by Suzanne Trainor Cody, HGC Class of 1983.“

  “So what you’re saying is that everyone we’ve talked about so far—except for Stilwell, Napier, and our two students—might have taken those soldiers.“

  “I’m afraid it looks that way.“

  “And you still insist that Napier and Stilwell are excluded as suspects?“

  Partridge nodded vigorously. “I do. R. M. is the chief of police, after all. And Steve is, well, he’s an honest man. I’m sure of it.“

  Burns wished he could be so sure, but he couldn’t. And there was still one name on the list.

  “What about Mary Mason?“ Burns asked.

  “Her.“ Partridge said. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.“