dontravis.com blog post #645
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Although
this story started out as a short story, it looks to be turning into a mini
novella. Hope you stay with me on this.
****
BEARCLAW
SUMMONS (Part 4)
Bart was
pleasantly surprised by Mark’s method. The lawyer took a long time making Willy
feel easier before getting around to asking what he wanted to know. He seemed
to understand that it would take the young Apache awhile to grow comfortable
with a stranger from the outside. He spoke slowly, almost in a southwestern
drawl. Dropping hints about his own personal experiences to give his client
some insight into his new lawyer, Mark eventually led Willy Spurs through the
story, exhibiting unsuspected patience while he waited for the other man to
sort out answers to his questions. Bart smiled on the inside of his mouth. Old Mark
had learned something from their long friendship after all.
At length, the
lawyer ran out of questions. “Willy, there are a couple of points of law I want
to check on, and then I think we should go to the base for a talk with the
commandant. I’ll do your talking for you. I’ll tell him exactly what I want him
to know. If there’s something I don’t tell him, then it’s something I don’t
want him to know, and I don’t want you to volunteer it. Do you understand?”
“Yessir. “
“But if you hear
me tell him something that’s wrong, I want you to stop me right there and put
it right. I don’t care how small a thing it is, if it’s wrong, if I’ve
misunderstood, you stop me and correct me. Do you understand that?” Willy
nodded. “Do you trust me, Willy?”
“Y... yessir. “
“Don’t say it if
you don’t mean it.”
“Bart Shortlance trusts you,
so I guess I do too.”
“Fair enough. If I
tell you to go home tonight and come back in the morning, will you do it?”
They all waited in
silence while Willy chewed that one over. Finally, the young man nodded.
“All right, then I
trust you too. Be here at nine o’clock in the morning. And if something should
happen in the meantime, simply ask them to call me. Here’s a card with my
office and home phone numbers on it.”
Willy swallowed
manfully and put the card in his shirt pocket.
All the way back
to the reservation, Bart fought a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He
wished he understood why it rode there.
****
A smartly‑uniformed,
blue‑scarved airman smartly processed the car through the main gate of the
airbase. An attractive WAF non‑com smilingly saw to their needs as they waited
until the commandant was available, but as soon as he saw the colonel’s face, Mark
knew they had problems. He was willing to bet that if he opened the door that
had just closed behind them, there would be an Air Policeman within easy
hailing distance.
“Mr. Charles, Mr. Spurs.”
The colonel indicated a man dressed in civilian clothing. “This is Special
Agent Hill of the FBI. I’ve taken the liberty of asking him to join us. I hope
you don’t object.”
“Not at all,” Mark
said quickly, aware of Willy’s growing alarm. “I thought of this as a purely
military matter, or I would have invited Mr. Hill’s office or ATF myself.”
“Well, it’s true
that this is a military base, but Mr. Spurs is a civilian employee as well as a
member of an Indian tribe, I believe.”
“We’ll figure out
the jurisdictional considerations later, Colonel Marsh,” the agent drawled
easily.
“Right. Shall we
be seated? Around the table, I think,” the officer indicated chairs clustered
around a walnut coffee table in one corner of the room.
Mark picked up the
reins when they were all seated. “As I indicated on the telephone, Mr. Spurs is
my client. He has brought a matter to my attention which I felt should be
discussed with you. Mr. Spurs believes that the theft of government property
has taken place and that he has been manipulated so that he unwittingly
assisted in the crime.”
Mark told them the
facts as related by Willy. “At the end of the shift on the day the threat was
made when he refused to take out the third case of rifles, Mr. Spurs left the
military reservation and has not returned until I brought him here today.”
“Mr. Spurs,” the
colonel addressed Willy directly. “You should have immediately advised your
supervisor of the situation and‑‑”
Mark interrupted.
“Colonel, Mr. Spurs had been on the job for a total of three months. As I
understand it, Mr. Burke is one of his supervisors. Nothing like this
has ever happened to him before. He had no experience upon which to draw. Given
the circumstances, I consider that he acted in a prudent manner. We are now
advising the proper authorities that we have reason to believe that a number of
military rifles have been stolen.”
The colonel rolled
his eyes over to the FBI agent who picked up the conversation.
“That may be, but it would certainly have made
life simpler for Mr. Spurs if he had acted as Colonel Marsh suggested. You see,
someone has already reported the theft. A total of one‑hundred‑thirty‑six
rifles have, in fact, been removed from Warehouse B‑15 where Mr. Spurs worked,
and he has been named as the individual who took them.”
“By whom?”
The agent
consulted a folder he held in his hand. “A Mr. Harlen B. Burke, the Day
Supervisor at Warehouse B‑15—”
“When was this
allegation made?”
“Yesterday
afternoon at the end of the shift.”
“Has a warrant
been issued for my client?”
“Not at this time,
but that is merely a formality.”
“Perhaps so, but
it’s a rather important formality. I want to advise you right now, Mr. Hill,
that if one is issued, I want to be told so that Mr. Spurs can surrender
himself rather than be subjected to the indignity of an arrest.”
“He can avoid that
easily enough. He can surrender himself right now. “
“At this time you
don’t know that you are going to arrest him. As soon as you know, let me
know.”
“Well now,
Counselor, I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Of course you can.
But if the allegation was only made yesterday afternoon, you haven’t even had
time to conduct a decent investigation of the facts.”
“Well, we’ve
determined that the weapons are missing,”
the colonel snorted.
“And that’s about
all. An obvious question comes to mind. Mr. Spurs was employed for only around
three months. Unless security simply doesn’t exist in this place, I should
think that it would be very difficult to remove a hundred and... how many?...
thirty‑six? A hundred and thirty‑six rifles in that amount of time.”
“Difficult, but
not impossible. He admits to removing two cases,” the agent reminded him.
“Two cases hauled
out as a favor to Mr. Burke, his direct supervisor who did not have room in his
own vehicle. Two cases are one thing, Mr. Hill, that’s what ... a dozen rifles?
That’s a far cry from a hundred and thirty‑six.”
“There’s a
witness, Mr. Charles.”
“Let me guess...
his name’s Avila.”
“That’s right. Mr.
James V. Avila.”
“And why didn’t
Mr. Avila, sterling citizen that he is, immediately report this crime to his
supervisor so that the culprit could be apprehended at the gate?”
“Claims that he
thought the case he saw in Mr. Spurs’ pickup was empty. He thought Mr. Spurs
was taking it home to make a table or something out of it.”
“Are these cases
free for the asking?”
“No, but Mr. Avila
didn’t feel it was necessary to blow the whistle on a new man for carting an
empty wooden box out. But when the missing rifles came to light, well, that was
another matter. He stepped forward immediately.”
“I’ll bet he did.
Well, we can all take comfort in one thing. With the United States Air Force
and the Federal Bureau of Investigation looking after things, we can be
confident that there will be no attempt to take the easy way out and pin this
thing on a fellow who doesn’t have the money or the moxey to take care of
himself. We can rest assured that nobody’s going to simply try to wipe the
slate clean with Willy Spurs as the eraser. I take great comfort in that. I
think it’s time to go now, Willy. These gentlemen are going to want to get your
statement in writing so that they can use it in their investigation, and we’re
anxious for them to have it; but you will not answer any questions for them or
anyone else about this matter unless I am present. Do you understand?” Willy
nodded. Mark doubted that the man could have uttered a word if called upon to
do so. Willy’s eyes would have made respectable dials for a pocket watch. “I
think that’s all, then.”
Willy did not need
to be told twice. He was on his feet and headed for the door before the rest of
them moved. No one tried to stop them, although the AP Mark had predicted was
standing in the anteroom. Nonetheless, Mark did not breathe easy until they had
passed safely through the front gate of the base.
This was, he told
himself, going to be a very interesting case.
Interesting
case for Mark Charles, a lawyer, but probably not so pleasant for Willy Spurs. But
maybe between Bart and Mark, they can spare the young man real unpleasantness.
We’ll see.
Stay safe and stay strong until we meet again.
Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say... so say it!
Please check out my BJ Vinson murder mystery series starting with The Zozobra Incident and ending with The Cutie-Pie Murders.
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Email: don.travis@aol.com
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See you next Thursday.
Don
New posts every Thursday at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain Time
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