Dead Soldiers

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
 
This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
 
If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
 
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy.
 
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

BILL CRIDER
is the author of more than fifty published novels and numerous short stories. He won the Anthony Award for best first mystery novel in 1987 for
Too Late to Die
and was nominated for the Shamus Award for best first private-eye novel for
Dead on the Island
.
 
He won the Golden Duck award for “best juvenile science fiction novel“ for
Mike Gonzo and the UFO Terror
.
 
He and his wife, Judy, won the best short story Anthony in 2002 for their story “Chocolate
Moose
.“
 
His story “Cranked“ from
Damn Near Dead
(Busted Flush Press) was nominated for the Edgar award for best short story.

Check out his homepage at: http://
www.billcrider.com
—or take a look at his peculiar blog at
http://billcrider.blogspot.com

Book List

Carl Burns Series

One Dead Dean

Dying Voices

. . . A Dangerous Thing

Dead Soldiers

Truman Smith Series

Dead on the Island

Gator Kill

When Old Men Die

The Prairie Chicken Kill

Murder Takes a Break

Horror Novels

(all published under the pseudonym “Jack
MacLane
“)

Keepers of the Beast

Goodnight,
Moom

Blood Dreams

Rest in Peace

Just before Dark

Sheriff Dan Rhodes Series

Too Late to Die

Shotgun Saturday Night

Cursed to Death

Death on the Move

Evil at the Root

Booked for a Hanging

Murder Most Fowl

Winning Can Be Murder

Death by Accident

A Ghost of a Chance

A Romantic Way to Die

Red, White, and Blue Murder

A Mammoth Murder

Murder Among the O.W.L.S.

Of All Sad Words

Murder in Four Parts

Murder in the Air

The Wild Hog Murders

Murder of a Beauty Shop Queen

Standalone Novels

Blood Marks

Houston Homicide (with Clyde Wilson)

The Texas Capitol Murders

Stanley Waters Series

(co-authored with Willard Scott)

Murder under Blue Skies

Murder in the Mist

Sally Good Series

Murder Is an Art

A Knife in the Back

A Bond with Death

Western Novels

Ryan Rides Back

Galveston Gunman

A Time for Hanging

Medicine Show

Outrage at Blanco

Texas Vigilante

Stone: M.I.A. Hunter Series

(All published under the pseudonym “Jack Buchanan.“)

Miami War Zone

Desert Death Raid

Back to ’Nam

Short Story Collections

The Nighttime is the Right Time

Visit our online store

Subscribe to our Newsletter

Visit our
DIGITAL
and
AUDIO
book blogs for updates and news.

Connect with us on
Facebook
.

A
s Carl Burns hung up his phone, he wondered if he’d ever gotten good news in a call from a college dean. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of a single time.

Deans never called to say that the college’s business office had uncovered an unexpected windfall that would result in a ten percent pay increase for the faculty and staff.

They never called to say that the enrollment had increased by fifteen percent for the fall semester and that the administration attributed that fact directly to the fine work of the school’s dedicated faculty.

They never called to say that they were going to reduce the course load for everyone in the English Department because the administration had suddenly realized that the instructors were killing themselves by grading so many student essays every semester.

And they especially never called to say, “Good morning, Dr. Burns. I’m not calling for any particular reason. I just wanted to let you know that you’re doing a wonderful job as chair of your department and as a representative of Hartley Gorman College. Everyone connected with the school appreciates your hard work and dedication.“

No, more often than not they called to say that some instructor hadn’t posted his office hours and that they’d better be posted within the next ten minutes, or else.

Or that a student had appeared in the president’s office to complain about an instructor’s outrageous conduct in class.

Or that they had wonderful news: “You’ve been appointed to the personnel committee. It will be meeting every Thursday at three o’clock, and there are going to be some really delicate problems to deal with this year.“

But this most recent call had been even worse. It had not even been from the dean but from the dean’s secretary, who had said, “Dr. Partridge wants to see you in her office immediately.“

No reason given. That was the ominous part. Burns tried to remember what his latest transgression might have been, but he couldn’t think of a thing. His conscience was clear, or at least as clear as it ever was.

Not that a clear conscience meant anything. He was held accountable for the trespasses of all the faculty members in his department, whether he knew about the trespasses or not, and he was well aware that the sins of the faculty were numerous and grievous. Some of the faculty, in fact, probably hadn’t even posted their office hours.

Burns sighed.

“Is anything wrong, Dr. Burns?“
Bunni
asked.

Bunni
was
Burns’s
student secretary. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes, and she was an excellent student. Burns had recently learned that her sister would be attending Hartley Gorman in the fall. Her sister, to
Burns’s
distress, was named Sunni. He was sure there was a good reason for the name, besides the fact that it rhymed with
Bunni
, but he thought it better not to ask.

“Nothing’s wrong,“ Burns said. “I have to go over to Dean Partridge’s office for a minute.“

“Oh,“
Bunni
said, nodding understandingly.

Bunni
had had her own problems with Dr. Partridge, or rather with some of the policies that Partridge had introduced to HGC with her ascension to the dean’s office. Most of those policies had by this time been either rescinded or become honored more in the breach than in the acceptance, for which Burns was secretly grateful. Being publicly grateful was a mistake Burns didn’t plan to make.

“I’ll be back later,“ Burns said. “If any students come by, tell them that they can wait if they really need to see me.“

“Yes, sir,“
Bunni
said. Students at HGC still said that sort of thing.

As Burns walked down the shabbily-carpeted stairs of the Main Building, he tried again to think of what Partridge could want from him. He had plenty of time to think because his office was on the third floor and the ceilings were eighteen feet high. Walking down the stairs was fairly easy, however. Walking back up them was another story.

Maybe Partridge was finally going to have the elevator installed. That would be bad news indeed for Burns, whose office was in what appeared to be an unused elevator shaft that ran up the side of the building. It was the right size and shape for an elevator shaft, at any rate. But he’d hate to be moved out of his office, even if it was slightly cramped, not to mention cold in the winter and hot in the summer. It was far from perfect, but he’d gotten used to it, along with the ivy that clung to the outside walls and scratched at his windows when the wind blew, the pigeons on the wide stone window ledges, and the sparrows that nested in the ivy. He’d even gotten used to climbing the stairs.