Dead Soldiers (27 page)

Burns wasn’t sure where all this was going. He didn’t see what it had to do with the son’s death or with Stilwell’s wife’s leaving him.

“You haven’t told me how the son died,“ he said. “That might be relevant.“

“Oh, it is. But not in the way you think. It just proves that Steven couldn’t possibly be a killer.“

“I’d still like to hear about it.“

“Very well. Steven’s son was killed in the first Gulf War.“

Burns mulled that over. “I didn’t think there were many American casualties in that one.“

“There weren’t. But if your son is one of them, the small number doesn’t mean a thing.“

That was easy to agree with. And while Burns didn’t yet see what the death of Taylor Stilwell had to do with anything, it did provide the missing military connection. So maybe there was more to the story than he’d yet heard.

“I don’t see how Stilwell’s wife could blame him for their son’s death anyway,“ Burns said.

“She blamed him because of the pressure he put on Taylor to do well.“

“How could that have caused his death?“

“It was his grades,“ Partridge said. “When Taylor failed all his classes, Steven was very upset. He told Taylor that he couldn’t continue to pay for his education if Taylor was going to waste it. He told him that he would either have to redeem himself by going back to school and making all A’s or getting a job.“

“Making all A’s is tough,“ Burns admitted. “And parents can be very demanding.“

He remembered that over the years he’d had a number of students in his classes who’d become increasingly nervous about their grades as the semester went on because they were so afraid of disappointing the parents who were paying for their educations. He’d had enough of them in tears in his office to know how heartbreaking the pressure, whether real or imagined, could be.

“Let me make a guess,“ he said.

“Could I stop you?“

“You’re the dean. You could tell me to get out of here and go home.“

“But I’m not going to do that. Make your guess.“

“All right. Here it is: Taylor Stilwell didn’t get a job after he flunked out. He joined the Army.“

Burns could see the twisted logic of it. The son would spite the father by doing exactly the thing that would hurt the father most.

“That’s right,“ Partridge said. “And he got sent to the Persian Gulf not long after he went through training. He never came home, and his mother blamed Steven. He didn’t even argue with her. After all, he blamed himself. So you can see that he couldn’t possibly have killed anyone.“

Burns didn’t see it that way at all. What he saw was a man who had blamed himself for his son’s death for years and probably had become embittered by the guilt that, if it had lessened at all over the years, had been brought back in its full force by the new war in the Persian Gulf region. Hearing and reading the stories of the soldiers who had died during the conflict, and who were still dying in the peace, must have aroused powerful memories. If Stilwell had thought about it enough, and tried hard enough to come up with a new rationalization, he might have decided not only that he wasn’t to blame for what had happened but that others were. Taylor’s instructors, for example. And then he might have decided that they had to be punished.

“Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men,“ Burns said.

Partridge gave him a puzzled look. She clearly didn’t know about
The Shadow
.

“I beg your pardon?“ she said.

“Just something I heard recently,“ Burns told her.

He wondered now if Stilwell hadn’t been taunting him. Knowing that he was a suspect, he had been letting Burns know the truth in a roundabout way.

And then Burns thought about the “accident“ of that afternoon. Mary Mason had been parked near Stilwell’s store. Had she gone by to apologize about having misled Burns and Partridge about Stilwell’s interest in the soldiers?

Burns had thought that her lie had removed Stilwell from suspicion, but Stilwell would have seen things differently. Mason’s apology would have reminded him of his conversation with Burns, and he might even have realized that he’d slipped up by mentioning the soldier by Hart’s body.

Those soldiers were the clincher for Burns. He was convinced that Stilwell had indeed taken them and that he’d planned all along to use them in his revenge scheme. It would be another example of his cleverness, leaving behind a clue that pointed to something buried in the past, something he didn’t think anyone would connect with him.

Mason had known where Burns was going that afternoon. He hadn’t thought about her because he would have recognized her Cadillac under any circumstances. But he had no idea what kind of car Stilwell drove, but now he figured it was Stilwell who had showed up on Thrill Hill.

Maybe Stilwell hadn’t planned to run him off the road. He might have been on his way to some vantage point where he could shoot Burns with the .22 when he came out of the
Codys
’ mansion. But Burns had left too soon, so Stilwell had taken a chance, the only chance he had, to get rid of Burns by forcing him off the road. Burns was glad it hadn’t worked out.

“It was Stilwell all along,“ he said.

Partridge said that she didn’t believe it. “And I won’t condone
your
going to the police with that idea.“

“I’m sorry you won’t,“ Burns said, “because I’m going to do it anyway. I was hoping you’d see it the way I do.“

“I can’t. I just can’t believe that Steven would do those things.“

“I’m not asking you to believe it, but I’d like for you to accept the possibility. I’ll just tell Boss Napier what I suspect. He’s the one who has to make the final determination about an arrest, anyway. I’ll give him the information and let him decide. You can talk to him, too, and tell him your side of the story. If his investigation doesn’t turn anything up, then Stilwell isn’t harmed, and in fact, he’ll be relieved to know that he’s no longer under any suspicion.

“I couldn’t stop you in any case,“ Partridge said.

“That’s right. If you don’t mind, I’ll use your phone to call Boss Napier.“

“I mind,“ Partridge said, “but I won’t try to stop you. There’s a phone in the kitchen if you want privacy.“

She pointed the way, and Burns went to make the call.

B
oss Napier didn’t really believe it, either.

“Sure, the guy’s a little sleazy.“ He paused. “Don’t tell Gwen I said that, all right?“

“I promise,“ Burns said, but he had his fingers crossed.

He was sitting at Dr. Partridge’s kitchen table, but Partridge was nowhere around. She hadn’t wanted to tell Napier her side of the story.

“Anyway,“ Napier went on, “Stilwell’s a little sleazy, but he doesn’t come across like a killer.“

Burns mentioned his theory that Stilwell hadn’t meant to kill anyone.

“Maybe he’s just not a very good shot,“ Burns said.

“Could be. If that’s so, then Don Elliott is one lucky guy.“

“He’s not dead, so I’d say he was lucky whether Stilwell’s a good shot or not.“

“We don’t know it was Stilwell. So don’t talk like he’s already convicted.“

“I’m sure he’s the guilty party. The rest is up to you. You’ll have to get the proof. Find the rifle, find out that he was in the vicinity when Don was shot, find the rest of the soldiers. Whatever.“

“Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?“

“Not me,“ Burns said. “I’m just an English teacher, and from now on, I’m going to stick to teaching students the difference between iambic pentameter and anapestic hexameter.“

“Are you talking dirty, Burns?“

“Never mind. I think Stilwell’s guilty. You can either prove that he is or that he’s not.“

“What does Gwen think?“

It still wasn’t easy for Burns to think of Dean Partridge as
Gwen
. He said, “She thinks I’m crazy. She insists that Stilwell didn’t do it.“

“I was afraid of that. She’s not going to like it if I prove that he’s guilty.“

“Maybe he’s not. It’s your job to find out, one way or the other. She can’t blame you for doing your job.“

“You don’t know much about women, do you, Burns.“

Burns had to admit that Napier was right.

“Well, I do. And I know that Gwen will be mad at me if I put Stilwell in jail. It won’t matter if he was responsible for everything from the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa to the collapse of Enron.“

Burns had to smile at the idea of Boss Napier as an expert on women. But then who was he to judge?

“You can’t let what she thinks keep you from doing what you’re paid and sworn to do.“

“I know that better than you do, Burns. I’m just telling you what’s going to happen, and it’s all your fault.“

Burns wanted to bang the phone on the table, but he restrained himself.

“It’s not my fault,“ he said. “I didn’t even want to be involved, but you and Dr. Partridge insisted. It’s not my fault that things didn’t turn out the way you thought they would.“

“Whatever you say, Burns.“

“Don’t put it that way. Are you going to arrest Stilwell or not?“

“I can’t arrest him on what you’ve given me. I’ll have to get a warrant and find that rifle. Or those soldiers. Isn’t that what you told me I needed to do?“

“I give up. You’re hopeless.“

Burns started to hang up, but then he thought of something.

“You’d better have someone watching
Abner
Swan,“ he said. “He was the other instructor that Taylor Stilwell had when he flunked all his classes.“

“And you think Stilwell might make a try for him?“

“That’s right. Why wouldn’t he? It fits the pattern of what’s happened so far.“

“The pattern you’ve worked out. But maybe that’s not the shooter’s pattern.“

“Right. Whatever you say.“

This time Burns did hang up. He looked around for a telephone book, but he didn’t see one, and he didn’t want to rummage through Dr. Partridge’s kitchen. He went back in the den and asked where the phone book was. Dr. Partridge went into the kitchen with him and got it out of a cabinet drawer.

“I need to make another call,“ he told her, and she left the room again.

Burns looked up
Abner
Swan’s number. Swan’s wife, who was usually unbearably chipper, answered on the first ring and told him that
Abner
would speak to him in “just a jiffy.“ She put the phone down on a hard surface and called her husband. In a couple of seconds, he came on the line.

“
Abner
,“ Burns said, “I think you might be in danger. I think you should stay inside tonight. And don’t stand in front of any lighted windows.“

“Are you trying to scare me, Carl?“ Swan said. There was a little quaver in his voice. “Because if you are, it’s working.“

“It’s just that I have a feeling you could be on the list of people the sniper is after. With all that’s been happening around here the last few days, you don’t want to take any chances.“

“You’re right about that, my friend, but why me?“

“It’s too long a story, and I might be wrong. Just do me a favor, all right?“

“You can count on me,“ Swan said. “What about tomorrow?“

“I think everything will be settled by then,“ Burns told him, hoping that he was right.

“I’ll stick to the house then. Thanks for the warning.“

“You’re welcome,“ Burns said.

P
artridge was waiting for Burns in the den after he finished the call, but she didn’t ask how his conversation with Napier had gone or who he’d called after talking to the police chief. Instead she thanked him for his help.

“I don’t believe you’ve come to the right conclusion,“ she said, “but I know you’ve done your best.“

“For what it’s worth, Boss Napier agrees with you.“

“And he’s right. You’ll see.“

“I probably will,“ Burns said, and then he left.

W
hen Burns got home, he sat in his car for a few minutes. His house was around thirty years old, and the original owner had never installed a garage door opener. When he bought the house, Burns had thought about getting one, but at the time he hadn’t had the money, and later he just hadn’t bothered. He didn’t mind getting out of the car to open and close the door.

He had long ago lost the garage door key, but that had never proved to be a problem. As far as Burns knew, there had never been any burglaries in his neighborhood, and most people would just assume that a closed door was locked, or, if not locked, held firmly in place by an opener.

But something that Boss Napier said had changed
Burns’s
thinking about getting out of the car.

Getting out and opening the door was a routine for Burns, something he did every time he arrived home. It was dark now, but over the garage door there was a light controlled by a timer. It came on every evening at eight o’clock and went off at ten. So if Burns got out of the car, he’d be well lighted for anyone who might want to take a shot at him.