Dead Soldiers Read Free

do research that aided in their class preparation. So maybe that was all there was to this little visit. The dean was simply checking up.
    Burns began to relax. “The computers are really great. I’ve joined an English composition discussion list, and the two Darryls have become real computer nerds. They’ve put up an English Department home page that’ll knock your eye out.“
    “I’ll have to look at it some day ,“ Partridge said trying to sound enthusiastic, but Burns could tell her heart wasn’t in it.
    That was too bad since the homepage really did look good. It provided a virtual tour of the department, with photos of each instructor in his or her office. Bunni was included as well, and there was a shot of Burns standing in front of his American literature class, waxing eloquent on some abstruse topic or other, probably the dates of spring break.
    “Miss Darling and Miss Nelson are learning fast, too,“ Burns went on. “Miss Darling didn’t even want the computer in her office, but when she found that quilting page—“
    Burns stopped. The not-so-tangy taste of shoe leather filled his mouth. The last thing he’d wanted to imply was that someone was using the computer for personal purposes.
    Dean Partridge, however, didn’t seem to have noticed the gaffe. She was looking vaguely at one of the O’Keefe prints. Burns looked too. He thought it was supposed to be a flower, but that wasn’t what it looked like to him. He wondered if he was becoming a clichéd sex-obsessed English teacher like the ones that populated certain kinds of genre fiction.
    He started guiltily. Maybe Partridge had brought him in here for some sort of bizarre Rorschach test.
    But the dean didn’t appear interested in his reactions to the print. For all the notice she was paying him, he might as well not have been in the room.
    “Is something wrong, Dean Partridge?“ he asked.
    “What?   Wrong?“   She looked down at her unpainted fingernails. After a second or two she said, “Yes. You’re exactly right. There’s something wrong.“
    “Is there some problem in the English Department?   Something you need to talk to me about?“
    “No, that’s not it. It’s . . . personal.“
    Oh, lord , Burns thought. It is about Boss Napier .
    “I hesitated to discuss this with you,“ Partridge said. “It’s not easy for me to talk about my personal life with—“
    Underlings , Burns thought.
    “—faculty members. At least on school time. Maybe we should continue this discussion later.“
    Discussion? Burns thought. They hadn’t discussed anything as far as he could tell.
    He said, “I’ve already taught my classes and held my regular office hours today. I think it would be all right if we discussed your, um, personal life.“
    Now why did I say that? He wondered. I don’t want to discuss her personal life at all. I want to get out of here.
    But he didn’t make a move to leave.
    Partridge said, “All right. I hope you’ll keep everything we say confidential.“
    “I certainly will,“ Burns promised. God, Boss Napier would beat me to a pulp with a battery cable if he knew. Why didn’t I just get up and go?
    “You’ve solved mysteries before, haven’t you. Dr. Burns?“
    Burns nodded, wondering where she was headed. What kind of mysteries could she have in her personal life?   Maybe Boss Napier needed help on something and was too proud to ask Burns himself.
    “I’ve helped the police out a few times,“ he said. As you know very well .
    “Yes. R. M. speaks highly of you.“
    R. M.?   So she was on a first-name basis with Boss Napier. Or a first-initial basis. Though Burns didn’t like it at all when Elaine referred to Napier that way, he thought it was perfectly appropriate when Dean Partridge did. Most satisfactory, to tell the truth. Burns began to relax again.
    “I’ll bet he does,“ Burns said, not believing a word of it. “What seems to be the problem?“
    “Someone has taken something that belongs to