…A Dangerous Thing (31 page)

"Agree with
what
?"

"That it's always the woman who suffers.
 
You said that after we talked to Kristi Albert."

"And you don't agree with that?" Elaine said.

"I don't," Napier said.
 
"Look at Henderson."

Elaine gave Napier a look.
 
"I didn't mean that kind of suffering."

"Tom suffered in other ways," Burns said.
 
"He had a real problem.
 
He should have gotten help.
 
Maybe I should have said something to him about it.
 
I knew what was going on, and I kept my mouth shut."

"That's the trouble with men," Elaine said.
 
"You never think of talking about something.
 
But that's beside the point now.
 
I can see why my saying that made you think of Samantha."

"Yes.
 
She'd controlled herself pretty well for a long time, but somehow she heard about Dawn
Melling
.
 
Maybe Tom even told her."

"I wouldn't put it past someone like that," Elaine said.

"Me neither.
 
She didn't know what to do about it any more than I did, though.
 
So she told Walt.
 
She thought maybe he'd take care of it."

"Maybe he did," Napier said.
 
"Maybe a little thrashing was what Henderson needed."

Elaine was disdainful.
 
"You men think that's the answer to everything."

"Hey," Napier said.
 
"I said
maybe
."

Elaine didn't respond, so Napier turned to Burns.
 
"I have to hand it to you, Burns.
 
You did it again."

"I guess I did," Burns said, wondering why he didn't feel better about it.
 
"But that's not all."

"There's more?" Napier said.
 
"Don't tell me your buddies are guilty too."

"It's not that.
 
It's something entirely different."

Napier frowned.
 
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"You'll love it," Burns said.
 
"How would you like to be famous?
 
Maybe even get yourself on television?"

"How am I going to do that?"

"You're going to accept the surrender of Henry
Mitchum
."

"Hot damn," Napier said.

B
urns could see that Franklin Miller was torn.

On the one hand, the surrender of Henry
Mitchum
/Eric Holt to Boss Napier was going to bring the school national publicity, but it wasn't exactly the kind of publicity that Miller coveted.

On the other hand, the news about Holt completely overshadowed the scandalous murder of Tom Henderson by his own wife, which would otherwise have dominated the Pecan City news and quite possibly have spread to Texas' larger cities.

The news about Holt also overshadowed the student court's hearing on the matter of George (the Ghost) Kasper's guilt or innocence on charges of
lookism
, and Miller had to be grateful for that.
 
No one was going to worry about a minor case of political incorrectness when one of the nation's most sought-after fugitives was being booked in the local cop shop.

"What do you think will happen to him?" Miller asked Burns.

They were meeting in Miller's office prior to
Burns's
representing George at the hearing.

"I think he'll get off," Burns said.
 
"It's been a long time, he's led an exemplary life, and he still says he didn't have a thing to do with the bank robbery.
 
He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I hope you're right," Miller said.
 
"It won't look good for HGC if he's convicted."

"The school won't be hurt even if that happens," Burns said.
 
"No one here knew who he was, except for Dean Partridge, and she's the one who convinced him to come here and turn himself in."

That was the story they had decided on, at any rate.
 
It was true enough as such stories went.

"He was at another school for a long time," Miller said.
 
"He didn't turn himself in while he was there."

Burns nodded.
 
"Right.
 
It took HGC to persuade him to do that.
 
If anything, we'll come out of this looking like the good guys."

"Excellent," Miller said, rubbing his hands together.
 
"You've done a fine job, Burns, solving the murder and getting Holt to give himself up all at the same time.
 
By the way, who's going to be teaching Holt's classes?"

"The judge may let him finish the semester," Burns said.
 
"Let's wait and see."

Miller beamed.
 
"Excellent.
 
Now.
 
What are you going to do about George
Kaspar
?"

"That one could be tricky," Burns admitted.

T
he Student Government met and held court in a small room that had once been HGC's faculty lounge.
 
The room wasn't big enough to hold all the spectators at the hearing, and Burns had to shove his way through a knot of students to get inside.

The five students on the court were sitting at a small rectangular table in the center of the room.
 
George (the Ghost)
Kaspar
, looking as pale as his cartoon counterpart, was there, too, as was
Bunni
.
 
Elaine was sitting in a chair on one side of the room, and there were several other faculty members in attendance as well.
 
Mal and Earl were sitting near Elaine, and the
Mellings
were beside them.
 
The room buzzed with conversation.

Burns wondered if this scene was a preview of many like it to come, not at HGC but all around the country.
 
He knew that one college was adopting a sort of Miranda Warning for sex on dates and that every single step in the relationship had to be agreed to in advance.
 
He imagined solemn students with laminated cards in their hands checking off every move:
 
"May I touch this strap?
 
You have a right to remain silent.
 
If you choose to remain silent, I will take that to mean that I may not touch that strap."

And so it would go for every strap, buckle, and zipper.
 
God knows whose passion could survive the undressing for the even more intimate moments.
 
Or moments that had once been intimate.
 
Being sure to follow the checklist would probably cool even the most ardent passions.
 
Burns didn't like to think about it.

George saw Burns come in and appeared glad to see him.
 
It was almost as if he thought Burns was the only friend he had in the room.

 
Burns walked over to stand behind George's chair.
 
He leaned forward and slipped a piece of paper in George's hand.
 
He didn't think anyone saw him.

"What's this?" George asked.
 
He sounded as if he had been hoping for Al Pacino and the flame thrower, for which a piece of paper was a poor substitute.

Burns said, "It's another poem.
 
Ask if you can have a word with
Bunni
.
 
If she'll talk to you, tell her you have something for her.
 
Then give her the poem."

George looked around the room.
 
All the chairs were full, and students were standing wherever they could get a view of the table.

He looked back at Burns.
 
"It was a poem that got me into all this," he said.

Burns said he knew that.
 
"But this is different.
 
It's worth a shot."

George wasn't the picture of confidence, but he said, "All right."

He leaned over to Rodney Black, the student who was to preside at the meeting, and whispered something to him.
 
Rodney
 
nodded and bent across the table to speak to
Bunni
.

Burns couldn't hear what they were saying over the buzz, but he saw
Bunni
nod.
 
Rodney motioned for George to go ahead and talk to her.

"Tell her you read the poem, and it reminded you of her," Burns said in George's ear.

George nodded and got up.
 
He walked around to
Bunni's
chair and handed her the piece of paper.
 
Bunni
unfolded it and looked at the poem.
 
George whispered something, and she blushed.

It's up to you now, George
, Burns thought, hoping George would know what to say.
 
Apparently he did.
 
He continued to talk, and
Bunni
continued to listen.
 
After a minute or so, the conversation ended and George returned to his seat.

"How'd it go?" Burns asked.

"We'll see," George said, and they did.

Bunni
stood up and said she wasn't interested in pursuing the charge of
lookism
.
 
"It was all a big mistake.
 
I misunderstood George, and I'd like to apologize to him right now, in front of everyone.
 
He never based his opinion of me on my appearance.
 
I know that now.
 
I'd also like to apologize to the student court for wasting their time."

Then she walked through the crowd and out of the room. George got up and followed her.
 
Burns thought they'd be just fine.

"W
hat was that you gave George?" Elaine asked as they were leaving the building.
 
"I saw you slip him that paper."

"It was a poem," Burns said.
 
"It reminded him of
Bunni
.
 
And it reminded me of you.
 
I just happen to have another copy."

He took a paper out of his pocket and handed it to Elaine.

"'Hymn to Intellectual Beauty,'" he said.
 
"Shelley."

Elaine smiled.
 
"You think you're pretty smart, don't you?"

"One of the Younger Romantics started all this," Burns said.
 
"I thought it would be appropriate if another of them finished it.
 
And it looks as if it might have worked."

Elaine took his arm.
 
"Yes, I guess it did, even if Shelley wasn't talking about a particular person's intellectual beauty."

"Who said he was?" Burns asked.

"Never mind.
 
By the way, Mal Tomlin said something about forming a faculty baseball team."

"That's right," Burns said.
 
"I'm going to play second base.
 
I hope you'll watch some of the games."
 
He thought how that must sound.
 
"Unless you want to play, of course.
 
I'm sure there are a few openings on the team."

"I think I'll just watch," she said, and Burns hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself on an infield fly.

They neared
Burns's
car, and Burns saw someone standing by the Plymouth.

Boss Napier.

"What a pleasant surprise," Burns said when they got to the car.
 
"Don't tell me there's been another murder that I'm going to have to solve for you."

"You know what I'm here for, Burns," Napier said.

"That's where you're wrong.
 
I don't have any idea."

"And I'm Little Orphan Annie."

"Well,
I
don't know what you're here for," Elaine said.
 
"Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Lincoln Logs," Napier said, and Burns grinned.

Napier saw the grin.
 
"And lead soldiers.
 
Damn you, Burns, that's why you had Holt give himself up at Cartilage's house, isn't it."

"Partridge," Burns said.
 
"You might want to get used to it."

"She wears hippie glasses," Napier said.
 
"She doesn't even wear lipstick."

"True," Burns said.
 
"But she collects Lincoln Logs.
 
It's a relationship made in heaven."

"I'll get you for this, Burns," Napier said.

"Maybe," Burns said.

And maybe not
, he thought.