Dead Soldiers

by Crider, Bill

  “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we.“ Napier led the way around a sand trap, not bothering to see if there were any footprints in it. “Listen, Burns, it doesn’t do my ego any good to ask you for help. But you’re in with the faculty at the college, and you know the board members. You can get things from them that I might not be able to.“

  “I don’t know the board members. I hardly know the Balls at all.“

  “Did you know he was a gun collector?“

  Burns stopped and looked at Napier. “No. I didn’t know that. How did you find out?“

  “I’m a cop, remember? I find things out. And he likes to tour Civil War battlegrounds.“

  “I did know that,“ Burns said, and started to walk again.

  “Well, you won’t be surprised to know he’s interested in military weapons and that he collects rifles.“

  Burns didn’t know much about the history of rifles at all, but he knew enough to say, “They didn’t have .22s in the Civil War.“

  “That’s right, Burns, they didn’t. I didn’t know you were a history major.“

  “Minor,“ Burns said. “If Ball has a .22, wouldn’t there be a record of it?“

  Napier laughed. “That’s a good one, Burns. There are a hundred ways a man can get a .22 without leaving a trace. One of them is to have owned one for most of your life. Half the kids in Texas had .22s when Ball was young.“

  “Did you have one?“

  “I’m not as old as Ball, but sure, I had one. I went out hunting with it, too, and nobody thought a thing about it.“

  “Times have changed,“ Burns said.

  “Damn right they have, and not for the better. Come on.“

  They were at the edge of the golf course, and Napier was heading for the house that Burns thought belonged to the Balls.

  “I’ll take the lead,“ Napier said as they approached the back door.

  “You’re the cop,“ Burns said.

  Napier nodded. “And don’t you forget it,“ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Balls had a nice back yard, Burns thought, with green grass shaded by tall pecan trees, a swimming pool, and even what appeared to be an air-conditioned storehouse.

  “Should we go around to the front?“ he asked.

  “Might as well surprise them,“ Napier said. “They won’t expect the cops to be at the back door.“

  “Cop,“ Burns said. “Singular.“

  “Cop and English teacher, then.“

  “Not exactly Starsky and Hutch, are we.“

  “Not exactly,“ Napier said, “but sometimes you just have to go with what you’ve got.“

  He walked around the pool and up to a sliding glass door. He knocked on it hard enough to shake it in its frame.

  “Lousy protection,“ he said of the door. “A good thief could have it out of there and be inside in about three seconds.“

  A tall gray-haired man wearing a pair of cotton slacks and a white polo shirt came to the door and looked out. When he saw Napier, he unlocked the door and slid it open.

  “What’s going on, Chief?“ he said. “Is there some kind of problem?“

  “Guy just got shot over at the softball field. Maybe you know him.“

  “My God. Who was it? Is he dead?“

  “Don Elliott. He’s not dead, but he’s hurt.“

  Ball appeared to recognize the name. “I hope he’ll be all right. He teaches at the college, doesn’t he?“

  “Speech,“ Burns said.

  “Don’t you teach there, too?“ Ball asked. “I’ve met you before, I think.“

  Burns stuck out his sweaty hand. “I’m Carl Burns. I teach English at HGC, and I’ve met you at some college function or other. I was playing softball with Don when he was shot.“

  “I can’t imagine anybody being shot at the softball field. What does it have to do with me? Are you here because I’m a board member, or is it something else?“

  “We think the shooter might have come this way,“ Napier told him. “You haven’t see anybody suspicious in the neighborhood, have you?“

  “No. I’ve been busy.“ His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Come on back and I’ll show you.“

  Burns and Napier looked at each other. Napier shrugged, and they went inside. They followed Ball across the den and down a hall into what Burns thought had once been a bedroom. Karen Ball was there, and so were Ball’s military rifles, hanging on the walls.

  “Why, hello, Dr. Burns,“ Karen Ball said. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.“

  When she had decided to go back to school and get a teaching certificate, Karen had discovered just as she was about to graduate that she needed one more English class. She had taken only a couple of courses a semester, and she had already been working on her certificate for five years.

  She had asked Burns’s advice and had wound up in his American literature section. She had been a very good student. She was short, dark, and intense, and she always read the assignments, unlike a lot of the younger students in the class.

  But Burns could see that Napier wasn’t interested in either Karen Ball or the rifles hanging on the walls. He was interested in the large table sitting in the middle of the room.

  “How do you like it?“ Ball asked.

  “It’s great,“ Napier said. “What is it?“

  That was a stupid question, Burns thought. It was a table. And on it there were lots and lots of toy soldiers. Confederate and Union soldiers, it seemed, arranged on a some kind of man-made landscape with buildings, trees, grass, and roads.

  “It’s the battle of Shiloh,“ Ball said, “or it will be when I get it all set up.“

  Burns tried to remember what he’d learned about that particular battle in his history classes, but he didn’t need to worry. The Balls were more than happy to explain.

  “It was the first really important battle of the Civil War,“ Karen said. “Have you ever visited the battlefield?“

  Burns and Napier said that they hadn’t.

  “It’s a very sad place,“ Karen said. “So many tombstones. So many.“

  “Probably more than twenty-thousand casualties, all told,“ Ball said. “There were well over a hundred thousand troops involved in the battle. I don’t have that many soldiers for my set-up, of course. Look here.“

  He walked to the table and pointed out a strip of silvery blue that was plainly supposed to be water.

  “This is the Tennessee River. Here’s the little town of Pittsburg Landing, and this is Shiloh Church. Right here is the Hornet’s Nest, where the Federals established a battle line.“

  Burns thought Ball had things set up pretty well, if you considered that one of his soldiers equaled about a hundred of the real thing.

  “The South used more than sixty-two cannon against the Hornet’s Nest,“ Karen Ball said. “If General Johnston hadn’t been killed, the whole course of the war would have been different.“

  Burns remembered that historians didn’t have much respect for General Beauregard, who had taken Johnston’s place. But he wasn’t interested in re-fighting the Civil War.

  Neither was Napier, who said to Ball, “I didn’t know you collected toy soldiers.“

  “It’s a new interest,“ Karen said. “Have you met Gwen Partridge, the dean at the college? I’m sure Dr. Burns knows her.“

  Burns grinned. “Not as well as the Chief,“ he said.

  “Well, then, you know about her soldiers. We saw them when we visited her house, and we started thinking.“

  “Always a dangerous thing,“ Burns said, and Napier glared at him.

  The Balls didn’t notice. They were caught up in their enthusiasm.

  “We’d both studied the Civil War,“ Ball said, “and we’ve visited all the battlefields. So we thought, why not set one up here and see how things played out. We can move the troops around, try different scenarios, see how things might have turned out differently if things had been changed. It’s an interesting hobby, and educati
onal, too.“

  And one that a lawyer could afford, Burns thought. His gaze went to the rifles on the wall as Ball went on about the battle and his plans for his recreation of it. There was a place in one rack where nothing hung.

  “What goes there?“ Burns asked, pointing to the empty space.

  “Oh, nothing, really,“ Ball said. “At any rate, I don’t have to worry about the Army of Ohio under Buell’s command. My set-up is the way the battle was before they arrived. That’s thirty-five thousand troops right there.“

  “There’s a gun missing,“ Burns said, refusing to be distracted. “Did you lose one?“

  Napier had been listening to Ball, but now he turned to see what Burns was talking about.

  “I didn’t lose anything,“ Ball said. “I just took it to be repaired.“

  “How could it get broken hanging on the wall?“

  “It wasn’t a collectible rifle,“ Karen said. “It was Harvey’s old gun, the one he had when he was a boy.“

  Burns gave Napier a look. “Was it a .22?“

  “That’s right,“ Ball said. “My parents gave it to me when I was twelve. We lived in a little town a long way from anywhere, and I hunted rabbits with it.“

  “Been doing any hunting with it lately?“ Napier asked.

  “No. There was something wrong with it. I took it to be fixed.“

  “Here in town?“

  “No. I didn’t take it, really. I should have said I sent it off.“

  Napier seemed to remember why he’d come there in the first place. He said, “And you haven’t seen any strangers in the neighborhood this afternoon?“

  “No,“ Ball said. “I told you. I’ve been in here since I left the office. Isn’t that right, Karen?“

  Karen hesitated for just a second before saying that it was right.

  “Are you sure?“ Napier said.

  “Well, Harvey did go out for just a minute. He had to get something from the store.“

  “Ink for my printer,“ Ball said. “But I came right back here. Surely you don’t think I shot Don Elliott.“

  “Did someone shoot Don Elliott?“ Karen said. “When? Is he all right? I had him for speech when I went to HGC.“

  “Did you have Mal Tomlin?“ Burns asked.

  “Yes. I had to get certified to teach, and he’s chair of the Education Department.“

  “What about Matthew Hart?“

  “Yes. He was in that department, too. I took an ed psych class from him.“

  “I’d like to know more about that .22,“ Napier told Ball. “Like where you sent it.“

  “I have the address somewhere. I’ll give it to you if I can find it.“

  “Find it,“ Napier said.

  “I’ll find it later.“ Ball’s neck was getting red. “And now I think you’d better leave.“

  Napier started to say something to Ball, thought better of it, and turned to Burns.

  “Let’s go,“ he said.

  “I’ll show you the way out,“ Karen said.

  “We’ll manage,“ Napier said. “Come on, Burns.“

  Burns followed him out of the room, down the hall, and out the sliding glass door.

  “Why didn’t you browbeat him a little?“ Burns asked when he’d closed the door behind them. “You browbeat me all the time.“

  “Yeah, but you’re not a lawyer. If Ball’s guilty of anything, I’m not going to screw up the case by talking to him here. I’ll wait until I have all my ducks in a row.“

  They started back across the golf course. The sun was low in the sky, blazing behind a cloud bank. One thing about Pecan City, Burns thought. You got a great sunset every day.

  “You think he really sent a rifle off to be repaired?“ Burns asked.

  “Maybe,“ Napier said. “If he did, then he’ll let me know where it went, and I’ll check it out.“

  “He could call the people he supposedly sent it to, tell them to back him up.“

  “You have a suspicious nature, don’t you, Burns.“

  “That’s what comes of being an English teacher.“

  “Yeah. Anyway, you’re right. He could cover himself. But if he’s guilty, we’ll find out.“

  “He has soldiers,“ Burns said.

  “Not the right kind, though.“

  “But there’s a connection. It’s tenuous, but it’s there.“

  “Tenuous. Now there’s a word you don’t hear every day. You really do have a good vocabulary, Burns.“

  Burns got the impression that Napier wasn’t impressed by his reasoning. He said, “Did you notice the questions I asked Karen Ball?“

  “Very subtle,“ Napier said. “No one would ever guess what you were getting at.“

  “She took classes from everyone who’s been shot at, so at least it’s a connection. And it’s not tenuous.“

  “Maybe not. But how many people do you think there are who’d had Tomlin, Hart, and Elliott for class?“

  “Hundreds,“ Burns said.

  “Right. So it’s pretty tenuous if you ask me. Of course if you’re right and it’s important, then you should be worried.“

  “Why?“

  “Because she took your class, too,“ Napier said.

  Score another one for the Boss, Burns thought.

  The investigating team was still on the job when Burns and Napier got back to the big metal building, but Napier didn’t want to disturb them, so he and Burns walked on back to the baseball field.

  They had crossed the creek and were nearing the fence when Napier stooped down and picked up the softball that Burns had hit.

  “What’s this doing here?“ Napier asked.

  Burns told the story of his first home run, the longest hit he’d ever gotten.

  “I guess they forgot to come after it in all the confusion,“ he concluded.

  “And you just ran right past first base and climbed the fence?“ Napier said.

  “That’s right. I didn’t get to enjoy my moment of glory, and I’m sure I’ll never get a hit like that again. For me, it was a once in a lifetime thing.“

  “So you didn’t run around the bases?“

  “Of course not. Don had been shot. I wanted to help, and I wanted to catch whoever did it. Surely you don’t think I’d run around the bases.“

  “You never know,“ Napier said.

  “Well, you do now.“

  “That’s right. I do now.“

  Napier touched Burns with the ball.

  “What did you do that for?“ Burns asked.

  “I tagged you.“

  “I know that. But why did you do it?“

  “You’re out,“ Napier said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Burns was still steaming when he got in his car. His one big moment on the ball field, and Napier had taken it away from him. Napier had handed him the ball after tagging him, and Burns threw it into the floor on the passenger side, where it bounced around a few times before coming to rest.

  “You’d have been out anyway,“ Napier had told him. “You left the basepath, and that’s an out. When you play a game, you have to play by the rules.“

  “But I hit a home run!“

  “Not exactly. It would’ve been a home run if you’d completed your trip around the bases, but you didn’t do that. So you’re out. But don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a real game, just a practice. So it doesn’t really matter.“

  It mattered to Burns, however. His one big moment, and Napier had ruined it.

  Napier had tossed him the ball. Burns surprised himself by catching it.

  “Besides,“ Napier said, “nobody’s going to know you were out except you and me. Everybody’s gone home, and all they’ll remember is that you hit it.“

  “Shouldn’t you have questioned them?“

  “I had somebody here to do that. You know what?“

  Burns had a feeling he didn’t want to know, but he said, “What?“

  “They might not even remember you hit that ball so hard. When somebod
y gets shot, people tend to remember that, not anything else that happened.“

  Burns knew that his measly little home run meant nothing compared to Don Elliott’s being shot, but it rankled him that Napier was rubbing it in.

  “I think I’ll go to the hospital and see how Don is doing.“

  “They might not let you in, dressed like that.“

  Burns hadn’t bothered to comment. He’d taken his ball and gone home.

  Well, not home. He had gone to the hospital, where he didn’t get to visit Elliott but where a duty nurse told him that Elliott was asleep and doing just fine.

  Burns started home then, but he changed his mind and drove to the HGC campus.

  It was almost six o’clock when he got there, and students were going into Main for their evening classes. Burns knew that his appearance was undignified and not in keeping with the way a faculty member should appear to the students, but he was still angry with Napier and didn’t much care what anyone thought about how he looked.

  He walked up the stairs to his office, ignoring the curious looks that he got from the students, and shut himself inside. When he had caught his breath from the climb, he sat down at the computer and turned it on. In theory he had access to the records of every student who had ever attended HGC, as all of them were supposedly entered into a database that was part of the new and hugely complicated software the college had purchased. It was so complicated, in fact, that many of the faculty members had simply given up on ever learning how to use it. Burns had faithfully attended every training session and practiced diligently. Even so, he was only barely competent. But he thought he could at least look up Karen Ball’s transcript and find out whose classes she had taken. He might even be able to find out more, though he didn’t know what that might be.

  He worried for about two seconds over the doubtful legality of what he was doing. As an instructor, he had a right to look at the records, he knew, but he was pretty sure he was supposed to do so only for academic reasons. However, he told himself that he didn’t plan to tell anyone about what he might find, so it was all right to look.

  But what if there was evidence that would lead to the person who had killed Matthew Hart and shot at two other instructors? Burns decided he’d worry about that later. He had to find the evidence first, and that wouldn’t be easy, since he didn’t even know what he was looking for.