police.“
Oh, brother, Burns thought. Franklin Miller had better watch out, or Partridge would have his job as president of HGC before the year was out. She was that slippery.
“Let’s talk about my ’investigation’ for just a minute,“ Burns said. “I’m not sure I should do anything. It might not be a good idea at all.“
“And why not? You’ll just be asking a few questions. Anyone has a right to do that.“
“We’re not talking about what rights I have or don’t have. We’re talking about the fact that I’ve been threatened with Boss Napier’s bullwhip.“
Partridge surprised Burns by laughing. Maybe she did have a sense of humor after all. Except that this time Burns hadn’t been kidding.
“I’m sure those stories about R. M. and his bullwhip have been greatly exaggerated,“ Partridge said. “He’s really a very sensitive person.“
Sensitive wasn’t the first word that would have occurred to Burns had he been asked to describe Boss Napier. It would have been much lower on the list, down around number two hundred, probably. Or lower.
“He might seem sensitive to you,“ Burns said. “But you’ve never been threatened by him.“
Partridge looked demure, or as demure as it was possible for a dean to look.
“What makes you so sure?“ she asked.
Now there was a line of thought Burns definitely did not want to pursue. He decided that he’d better get the conversation back on track.
“All right, forget that. Let’s look at the next name. Steven Stilwell. He’s an antiques dealer with what passes in Pecan City for an exclusive clientele. People come here from Dallas, Houston, and even from out of state to shop at his store.“
“Yes,“ Partridge said. “The man’s a treasure, an absolute treasure.“
It figured, Burns thought. Stilwell knew how to play up to people, especially women. With his shaggy hair and rough-trimmed beard, he had a sort of slimy charm. He’d presented a number of well-attended programs on campus, and Burns had to admit that he talked well about antiques. Besides that, he’d given a great deal of money to HGC. Burns suspected ulterior motives for the gifts. Stilwell seemed like the kind of man who’d love to have a building named after him. Or maybe he was after a co-ed. He had a reputation as a womanizer.
“Antiques,“ Burns said. “I wonder—has he ever expressed an interest in your soldiers?“
“I don’t believe that he’s a suspect,“ Partridge said. “He would never stoop to taking something that wasn’t his.“
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,“ Burns said. “An antique dealer is a man who likes to go out in the country and find an old piece of glass that’s worth a small fortune and pay someone forty cents for it.“
“But that’s just good business.“
Yes, Burns thought, Partridge would definitely be president of the college within the year if Miller didn’t watch his back.
“But he couldn’t do business with you, could he?“ Burns said.
“No,“ Partridge said. “He offered to buy the soldiers, but he didn’t want to pay what they were worth.“
“Just what did he offer?“ Burns asked.
“Three hundred dollars at first. But he went up to five.“
“And they’re worth ten times that.“
“Well, yes.“
“Now, what if he had a customer for them, someone who really, really wanted them, but you refused to sell them. Do you think he might be tempted to take them if he was alone in the room with them?“
“Absolutely not. In my mind, he simply isn’t a suspect. And that’s all there is to it.“
Burns decided not to say what was in his own mind. But he didn’t agree with the dean at all. He thought Stilwell would grab the soldiers in a second if he thought there was a buck in it. And he wondered who insured all those valuable antiques. Could it have been Matthew Hart?
“We’ll go on to the next name, then,“ Burns said. “I’ve known Robert Yowell for a few years now. He’s a pharmacist at
Oh, brother, Burns thought. Franklin Miller had better watch out, or Partridge would have his job as president of HGC before the year was out. She was that slippery.
“Let’s talk about my ’investigation’ for just a minute,“ Burns said. “I’m not sure I should do anything. It might not be a good idea at all.“
“And why not? You’ll just be asking a few questions. Anyone has a right to do that.“
“We’re not talking about what rights I have or don’t have. We’re talking about the fact that I’ve been threatened with Boss Napier’s bullwhip.“
Partridge surprised Burns by laughing. Maybe she did have a sense of humor after all. Except that this time Burns hadn’t been kidding.
“I’m sure those stories about R. M. and his bullwhip have been greatly exaggerated,“ Partridge said. “He’s really a very sensitive person.“
Sensitive wasn’t the first word that would have occurred to Burns had he been asked to describe Boss Napier. It would have been much lower on the list, down around number two hundred, probably. Or lower.
“He might seem sensitive to you,“ Burns said. “But you’ve never been threatened by him.“
Partridge looked demure, or as demure as it was possible for a dean to look.
“What makes you so sure?“ she asked.
Now there was a line of thought Burns definitely did not want to pursue. He decided that he’d better get the conversation back on track.
“All right, forget that. Let’s look at the next name. Steven Stilwell. He’s an antiques dealer with what passes in Pecan City for an exclusive clientele. People come here from Dallas, Houston, and even from out of state to shop at his store.“
“Yes,“ Partridge said. “The man’s a treasure, an absolute treasure.“
It figured, Burns thought. Stilwell knew how to play up to people, especially women. With his shaggy hair and rough-trimmed beard, he had a sort of slimy charm. He’d presented a number of well-attended programs on campus, and Burns had to admit that he talked well about antiques. Besides that, he’d given a great deal of money to HGC. Burns suspected ulterior motives for the gifts. Stilwell seemed like the kind of man who’d love to have a building named after him. Or maybe he was after a co-ed. He had a reputation as a womanizer.
“Antiques,“ Burns said. “I wonder—has he ever expressed an interest in your soldiers?“
“I don’t believe that he’s a suspect,“ Partridge said. “He would never stoop to taking something that wasn’t his.“
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,“ Burns said. “An antique dealer is a man who likes to go out in the country and find an old piece of glass that’s worth a small fortune and pay someone forty cents for it.“
“But that’s just good business.“
Yes, Burns thought, Partridge would definitely be president of the college within the year if Miller didn’t watch his back.
“But he couldn’t do business with you, could he?“ Burns said.
“No,“ Partridge said. “He offered to buy the soldiers, but he didn’t want to pay what they were worth.“
“Just what did he offer?“ Burns asked.
“Three hundred dollars at first. But he went up to five.“
“And they’re worth ten times that.“
“Well, yes.“
“Now, what if he had a customer for them, someone who really, really wanted them, but you refused to sell them. Do you think he might be tempted to take them if he was alone in the room with them?“
“Absolutely not. In my mind, he simply isn’t a suspect. And that’s all there is to it.“
Burns decided not to say what was in his own mind. But he didn’t agree with the dean at all. He thought Stilwell would grab the soldiers in a second if he thought there was a buck in it. And he wondered who insured all those valuable antiques. Could it have been Matthew Hart?
“We’ll go on to the next name, then,“ Burns said. “I’ve known Robert Yowell for a few years now. He’s a pharmacist at
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