Dead Soldiers (6 page)

He realized that he was being foolish, that he was feeling like a kid in junior high, that he was being possessive. He also realized that although those things were very bad, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t help himself.

“And what did R. M. want?“ he asked.

Elaine brushed back a stray lock of red hair. “Oh, nothing much. Just to say hello. He said something about dropping by to see you, too. Did he?“

“He certainly did,“ Burns said.

“I take it that he has some kind of problem.“

“You take it right. Someone’s been killed.“

Elaine was shocked. “He didn’t mention that to me. Is it someone we know?“

“Matthew Hart,“ Burns said. “He taught here a good many years ago, early nineties, before you came. He was in Earl’s department.“

“Was it an accident?“

“It was a lot worse than that.“

“Oh.“

“It was murder,“ Burns said. “But I’m not getting involved.“

“I’m sure you’re not. You never do.“

Now even Elaine was being sarcastic. That wasn’t a good sign.

“No, really,“ Burns said. “I mean it. Napier warned me off. It’s none of my business.“

“Has that ever stopped you before?“

She had a point, but Burns said, “This time will be different.“

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?“

“We will indeed. But I didn’t come by to discuss things I’m not going to get involved in. I wanted to ask you about the ball game. Are you going to be there?“

Elaine smiled, dazzling
Burns’s
eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it.“

“I was afraid you’d say that.“

“What?“

“I said, ’I’m glad you said that.’“

“It didn’t sound that way to me.“

“Well, that’s what it was. I’m looking forward to getting out there and slapping the old pill around.“

“The old pill?“

“That’s what we pros call the ball. The old pill.“

“Oh.“

“It might rain,“ Burns said, having just thought of the possibility. “In that case, the game will be canceled.“

“You sound as if that might not be a bad idea.“

It wouldn’t, at that. The more Burns thought about it, the better he liked it. Not only would he be spared almost certain humiliation, he might even be spared a double hernia. Or was that a single hernia on a double play?
 
Not that it mattered. Neither alternative appealed to him in the least.

“I wouldn’t want it to rain,“ Burns lied. “I think it’s going to be a great game.“

“I hope so. I hear that Dawn
Melling
is going to be the pitcher for the faculty.“

Dawn was one of the school’s counselors, and her appearance reminded Burns of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Not that that was a bad thing.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?“ he said.

“Because she’s a woman?“

“Nope,“ Burns said. “We have several women on the team.
Dorinda
Edgely
is our third baseman.“
 

And a lot better ballplayer than I am, for that matter, he thought.

“It’s just that I wouldn’t want you to be engaging in sexist thinking.“ Elaine said. “I know you’re trying to improve, but you slip up every now and then.“

“I know. But at least I’m trying. You have to give me credit for that.“

“You do very well most of the time. And I’ll bet Dawn pitches a great game.“

“I’m sure she will,“ Burns said. “Well, I’d better get over to the office. I might actually have a student drop by with a question.“

“It was nice to see you,“ Elaine said, which made Burns feel slightly giddy.

H
e felt giddy all the way back to Old Main, and even during the stair climb, but all that changed as soon as he got back to his office.
Bunni
was working at the computer terminal with stern concentration, but she looked up when he entered.

“Hi, Dr. Burns,“ she said, reaching for a piece of paper that was lying near the mouse pad. “Dr. Partridge asked me to give you this.“

“What is it?“ Burns asked.

“It’s a list,“
Bunni
said. “The names of the people who were at her party.“

“Oh,“ Burns said, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach. “What a nice surprise.“

“A
re you OK, Dr. Burns?“
Bunni
asked. “You look a little pale.“

Burns took the sheet of paper from her and sat behind his desk.

“I’m fine, thanks,
Bunni
. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to get this list today.“
 
Or ever, for that matter. “When did Dr. Partridge give it to you?“

Bunni
turned back to the monitor. “Just a few minutes ago. She called and asked if you were in, and when I said that you weren’t, she asked if I could come pick up something for you.“

“A few minutes ago?“
 

That would mean that Partridge had called long after having talked to Napier, who would have told her exactly how he felt about having Burns meddle in the murder case. But she’d sent him the list anyway.

Ordinarily, Burns liked lists. He liked making them, and he liked reading them. However, the lists he liked weren’t as dangerous as the one he was holding. He much preferred lists of things like “The Ten Best Western Movies of All Time“ to lists of guests at a party where toy soldiers were stolen, especially when it seemed that the soldiers were now going to be clues in a murder case.

Burns unfolded the paper and looked at the list. There were still eighty-six names on it, but some of them had been emphasized by a yellow highlighter. Burns counted them. Eleven. That wasn’t so bad.

Then he noticed that one of the highlighted names was very familiar.

“
Bunni
,“ he said, “were you at Dr. Partridge’s party for honor students?“

“Yes, sir,“
Bunni
said, not looking away from the monitor. “I am one. An honor student, I mean. Anyway, I was there. I helped Dr. Partridge work on the list.“

“You helped her?“

Bunni
turned to face him. “Yes, sir. She talked to me about it yesterday afternoon, and we went over the names together.“

“Why did she ask you to help her?“

 
“It was an outdoor party, and the invitations said for everyone to come around to the back of the house. But Dr. Partridge was afraid some people might forget that and come to the front door. She asked me to stay inside and answer the door and steer people through the house and out back. The names that are highlighted on the list are the ones who came inside before going out back.“

“So you think you saw everyone who came inside.“

Bunni
hesitated, then said, “I’m not sure. I guess so. But the restrooms were inside, too, of course, and somebody might have had to come in and use one of them.“

Burns admitted that was a possibility. “But you saw everyone who came through the front door?“

“Maybe. I could have missed somebody.“

“Did anyone hang around?
  
I mean, did anyone stay inside rather than going on out back?“

“Practically everybody who came in hung around,“
Bunni
said. “It was kind of hot outside, but the air-conditioning was on in the house.“

Burns remembered how hot it had been. It would probably be hot again on Saturday, if it didn’t rain. He hoped it would rain, and not just to relieve everyone from the heat. He pictured the softball field as a sea of mud. It was a pleasant thought, but right now, he had other things to worry about.

“So you helped Dr. Partridge highlight these names,“ he said, holding up the list.

“Yes, sir. It’s everyone I can remember.“

Burns looked at the highlighted names again.

Besides
Bunni
, there was George
Kaspar
, also known as “The Ghost.“
 
He was
Bunni’s
boyfriend. No surprise that he was inside. Where
Bunni
was, there was George. There had been a little trouble between them in the spring, but that was all over now, or so Burns believed.

Since Burns was absolutely positive that neither George nor
Bunni
was capable of stealing toy soldiers, much less killing anyone, that left only nine names. Not that he was going to talk to them or anything, but nine would be a lot more manageable than eighty-six.

Burns sat at his desk and let
Bunni
get back to work. He stared at the nine names on the list: Harvey and Karen Ball, Steven Stilwell, Robert
Yowell
, Neal Bruce, Rex and Suzanne Cody, and Mary M. Mason.

That made eight. He’d hold off on the ninth for a little while.

Burns had met most of the eight whose names were on the list, and he knew a little about all of them. Prominent Pecan City citizens, one and all. Four of them were members of the HGC Board, the governing body that supposedly made most of the decisions about the college, though it was widely regarded as a rubber stamp for the president.

The wild card was Mary Mason. M-m-m, as her name was pronounced by nearly every male
chauvanist
pig in Pecan City, had made a fortune selling Merry Mary cosmetics. She drove an enormous pink Cadillac and had hair that was half-a-hive higher than
Melva
Jeans’s
. No one knew exactly how old she was, but she was single and enjoyed dating men from twenty-five to ninety. Her only requirement was that they be ambulatory. She had been married at least three times, but the marriages hadn’t lasted long.

All in all, Dean Partridge’s guests didn’t seem to be the kind of people whose names would appear on a list of suspects in a murder case, Burns thought.

And the names weren’t all that likely to be found on a list of people who might be expected to walk off with a half-dozen toy soldiers, either.

But Burns could go over the names with Partridge later, if he was actually going to do anything about them. Which he wasn’t. He’d promised Napier.

Those toy soldiers bothered him, though. It wasn’t so much the presence of one of them at the murder scene. What bothered him was that he’d been told about the one at the murder scene, but neither Mal nor Earl had mentioned it. That probably meant that the soldier wasn’t general knowledge.

Could it be one of those little details that the police liked to hold back from the public, that little bit of knowledge shared only by the killer and the cops?

If so, why had Burns been told?
 
Did Napier trust him that much?
 
And if Napier trusted him, did that mean Napier, although he’d told Burns not to get involved, fully expected that Burns
would
get involved anyway?

And, to make things even more complicated, why had Dean Partridge sent Burns the list of names after talking to Napier?
 
Was it possible he hadn’t told her to keep Burns out of it?
 
Or had he told her and been ignored?

It was all too much for Burns. He might be able to present a class with a reasonably entertaining and perspicacious interpretation of “The Waste Land,“ but he couldn’t fathom the workings of Boss Napier’s devious mind.

The police chief had sounded quite sincere, even threatening, when he’d told Burns to keep his nose out of things. But now Burns wasn’t sure that he’d really meant it.

And then there was that ninth name on the list.

Burns looked at the list again, hoping that it had somehow changed.

It hadn’t. It was still exactly the same, and the ninth name was still there, highlighted in bright yellow just like the other eight: R. M. Napier.

B
urns wanted to talk to Dean Partridge, but he had to wait until
Bunni
left. There was no way to have a private conversation in the office while
Bunni
was there, and Burns didn’t want to ask her to leave while he made the phone call. He decided that he’d work on a list of his own to pass the time and to avoid thinking about either the ball game or the names Partridge had sent him.

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
.