Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (21 page)

“Doc Willis hisself, Chief.” Hays pointed. “Layin’ right here in
the closet lookin’ ‘bout as dead as a pile’a rocks, yes sir.”
Chief Kinion’s face drew up into squeezed lines. “Yer jokin’,
right, Hays? Doc Willis ain’t really in that closet, is he? And dead,
you say?
Hays fully faced the Chief’n shrugged. “Well, Chief, I can say
that Doc Willis is layin’in this here closet, but I cain’t say fer absolute
fact that he’s dead, on account I ain’t a doctor myself, and I ain’t got
no stetherscope’re EKG machine on me. But I thank I can say that
he’s
problee
dead ‘cos, see, his throat’s cut right through his aderm’s
apple, and I’ll’se tell ya something else, Chief. Not only is Doc Willis
layin’ here in the closet, there’s a red-hairt gal in a Army uniform
standin’ right behind ya holdin’ a gun.”
This was ridiculous, just more’a Hays’fuckin’‘round. The Chief
was too old for shennanergins such as this, and he shorely felt that a
man’a his position was deservin’ of far more respect than havin’ his
leg yanked by his deputy.
Maybe if I fired his wise ass, he’d get the
message that police work is serious business. Fer Chast’s sake! Doc
Willis with his throat cut in the fuckin’ closet and a gal in a Army
uniform standin’ behind me with a gun?
“Hays, I’ve had enough’a
yer foolin’ around. How’d you like me ta—”
But the Chief, before he could complete the fair warning, heard a
click. He snapped his gaze around from where he sat on the bed, and
what he saw was this:
A gal in a Army uniform standin’right behind him holdin’a gun.
“Freeze,” the woman said in low, stern tone, “or I’ll blow your
head off.”
The Chief peed his pants.

“Chief Kinion, I apologize for startling you to the extent that
you . . . urinated in your trousers,” the woman said, and put her Colt
.45 back in her black Army-issue holster. She was dressed smartly
in summer Army khakis, wore a pair of neat brass pins on her collar
along with twin silver bars indicatin’ the rank of captain.

“I, uh, well, it weren’t startlement, Miss,” the Chief excused,
keepin’ the front of his pants covered with a pink terry-cloth towel
from the Willis’ bathroom. “See, I gots me some bladder problems
is all.”

“Really, Chief?” Hays asked. “You never said nothin’ ‘bout that
ta me. I—”
“Shut up, Hays . . . Anyway, Miss, I’m shore you can see that my
deputy and I ain’t got nothin’ ta do with Doc Willis’ murder. We’se
was just—”
“I understand, Chief,” the gal said, and, well, she were right fine
lookin’: shiny red hair almost to her shoulders, nice figger undersneath
that tan, tailored Army tunic, and a kind of cool, very businesslike
tone to her voice which was somethin’ the Chief immediately found
ta be very attracterive. “Pardon my initial response,” she went on to
further her explanation. “I heard voices in here so I came in with my
gun drawn as a logical precaution.”
“A’course, a’course.”
“Oh, and forgive my lack of manners, Chief. I’ve neglected to
introduce myself. I’m Captain Dana Majora—”
But then Hays stepped in to quite oddly interrupt. “Well tells me
this, Captain Minora—”
“That’s
Majora, PFC.” She turned her purdy eyes—jade-green
eyes—to the Chief, and the Chief quite liked the way that whenever
she were gonna say somethin’ of import, she would always address him
directly, makin’ a clear acknowledgerment of his authority. And
though he couldn’t quite say fer shore, he thought that ever so often,
on such occasions, that the fine, upstandin’ and downright
cuteenough-like-ta-make-the-Chief-cream-the-trapdoor-in-his-jockies
Captain Majora shot him a coupla looks that might indercate a tad of
attraction on
her
part too.

“So now ya kin see,” the Chief augmented, “that me’n my
deputy is here solely in response to the call we received from Doc
Willis hisself ‘bout his suspicion that his wife’d been kidnapped—”

“Chief, you ain’t gots ta ‘splain yerself ta her,” Hays suddenly
burst in. “If anythang, she’s the one who needs ta do some ‘splainin’.”
Chief Kinion glared up. “Hays, what’choo harpin’ about now,
boy?”
“This gal here’s obveruslee in the military poe-leece, and,
accordin’ to a piece’a paper called the Constertution’a the United
States, the military is always ta be controlled by a civilian government,
which means they ain’t got not law enforcement powers whatso’s
ever in civilian jurisdictions like what we’se all standin’in the middle
of right now. So’s how ‘bout you start ‘splainin’, Miss. And ya kin
start by authentercatin’yer identity by showin’me yer proper military
I.D card.”
The Chief couldn’t believe his deputy’s sudden outburst of ill
manners. “Hays, that ain’t no way to speak to a lady so pipe down!”
But the woman didn’t hezzertate to reply, quite to the contrary,
“Chief, your deputy’s observations are duly astute, and here, PFC,
is my U.S. Army identification card.” She passed Hays the white
plastic card for his perusal. Hays examined it, shrugged, then gave it
back. “Hmmm, looks all right, I guess . . .”
After which she continued, “However, I’m not a military
policewoman, I’m a field operative with INSCOM.”
“INSCOM?” the Chief blinked up. “What’s that?”
“The U.S. Army Intelligence and Security Command, Stolen
Property Detachment,” she said quickly and very curtly.

Gawd,
Kinion thought.
She is one attracterive gal fer shore!
“That’s mighty impresserive, Miss-er, uh, ‘scuse me, I’se mean
Captain Majora,” he bumbled. “And I’se shore sorry for my
assistant’s surly tone. But I do got a question myself. Like . . . what
the hail is the U.S. Army doin’ out here?”

Majora stood smartly in her crisp, starched government-issue
duds. It might also be worth mentionin’ that her tits stuck out quite
amply behind that khaki tunic, yes sir! “What I’m about to tell you
gentlemen is classified, but since it is the Army’s duty to cooperate
fully with civilian law enforcement, and since you, Chief, are the
senior law enforcement official in this jurisdiction, I’m obliged to
be forthcoming. I’m here to investigate a possible conspiracy to
perpetuate the theft of specialized ordnance from the nearby military
reservation, thirty miles due south, known as Fort Paduanna.”

“Ordnance?” Hays butt in. “That means ammernition, don’t it?”
“Yes, PFC, it does,” Captain Majora tersely answered.
“Fort Paduanna’s been closed fer three years!”
Majora nodded. “That’s quite correct, PFC, and that’s the

classi
fied part. Fort Paduanna is indeed officially closed as an active
military operations base. However, it still retains a redeposition
function.”

The Chief scratched his chin. “A—”
“What that means, Chief, is that active Army personnel are
still on duty there in order to maintain the security of stored binary
chemical weapons awaiting destruction in accordance with the
SALT II Treaty.”
“Uh . . . Oh,” the Chief replied.
“And the reason I’m here, to specify, is to investigate the possible
involvement, and now”—she glanced coldly at Willis’ dead body—
”the obvious murder of Doctor Willis.”
The Chief was duped. “Didn’t you just say somethin’ ‘bout the
theft of ammernition? What’s a country doctor got ta do with that?”
“He was no country doctor, Chief. Instead, he earned a doctorate in
applied plasma physics from MIT, whereupon he joined the U.S.
Army Science and Research Command. He spent twenty years in
the Army, working on classified primer technologies. Ten years ago,
however, after having risen to the rank of colonel, he retired. Then he
moved here to presumably enjoy his retirement.”