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with relief. Things were bad, but not as bad as he had feared. At least Napier wasn’t a suspect.
    “How are you going to narrow things down?“ Burns asked.
    “Many of the guests never went into the house,“ Partridge said. “It was a yard party.“
    Burns was skeptical. “A yard party?“
    “Yes. I rented a tent. It was quite nice.“
    “What about Billy?“
    “He wasn’t a problem,“ Partridge said.
    Burns found that hard to believe. Billy was Partridge’s pet goat, or as she preferred to call him, her animal companion. He lived in a little shed in the yard, though Burns had never seen him inside it. Most of the time, he was standing on top of it.
    Billy wasn’t exactly friendly, as Burns had good reason to know, and there was no fence around the shed, either. As far as Burns was concerned, any guests in the yard were taking their lives in their hands.
    “I rented a little fence,“ Partridge said. “I didn’t know you could do that, but you can. Billy was quite happy to watch the goings-on.“
    Burns didn’t believe Billy was happy, and he didn’t believe the part about the “little fence.“   Billy would never have been deterred by a little fence. Not that it made any difference. What Burns wanted to know was how many people could be marked off the list. He handed it to Partridge and asked her to see what she could do.
    “I’ll give you a call when I’m finished,“ she said.
    Burns hoped that would be a long time, but he saw the list again much sooner than he had expected. It was the very next day.
    Right after Burns found out about the murder.

Chapter Four
     
    B oss Napier was waiting when Burns came back to his office after his American literature class the next day.
    “Nice cozy little place you got here, Burns,“ Napier said when Burns came through the door. “Got you a computer, a view, even some birds on the window ledge.“
    Burns looked out the windows. Pigeons whirred and cooed and stalked around the ledges. There was something else there too, a coating that resulted from the presence of the birds. What the place needed was a good rainstorm, Burns thought, but that wouldn’t help the ceiling, which was darkly stained from generations of pigeon droppings in the attic.
    Napier didn’t seem concerned with the stain just over his head. He was sitting in Burns’s chair, his feet propped up on the desk. The feet were enclosed in low-heeled black cowboy boots that went with the western-cut gray suit Napier was wearing. The police chief even had on a ten-gallon hat.
    “Don’t tell me,“ Burns said. “Hollywood has called. You’re going to be the new John Wayne.“
    Napier swung his feet off the desk and set them on the floor. Then he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk.
    “You always did think you were funny, Burns,“ he said. “But you were wrong.“
    “Probably. Mind if I sit down?“
    “Why not?   It’s your office.“
    Bunni was in class, so Burns took her chair at the computer desk. He put his American lit text and grade book on the mouse pad beside the computer and looked at Napier.
    “I don’t suppose this is a social call,“ he said.
    “Can’t put anything past you college guys, can I?“ Napier said. He looked at the literature book. “Who’ve you been talking about today.“
    “Edgar Allan Poe.“
    “The House of Usher? That kind of stuff?“
    Burns nodded, admitting that he’d been talking about that kind of stuff.
    “I read that one once,“ Napier said. “But I didn’t get it. I mean, here’s this guy who goes to visit an old pal that he knew when they were kids, but he never even knew the old pal had a twin sister. I’ll bet you knew if your pals had twin sisters didn’t you, Burns?“
    “I don’t think any of them did,“ Burns said.
    “Well, if they did, you’d have known it. How big was this House of Usher, anyhow?“
    Burns had never given that aspect of the house much thought. “I don’t really know.“
    “It would have