Dead Soldiers Read Online Free Page A

to be pretty big, right?   It had that basement or whatever. Dungeon, maybe. Lots of rooms in a house like that, probably.“
    “I’m sure you’re right.“
    “Take a lot of people to run a place that size. As I remember the story, there’s some old servant that lets the guy in when he gets there.“
    Burns acknowledged that there was a servant.
    “So what happened to him?“ Napier asked. “He’s never heard from again, right? Did he just take off for the tall and uncut? And what about the other servants? Big old house like that, out in the middle of nowhere, that Usher guy couldn’t take care of the place, not in his condition. Somebody had to cook and clean and all that. What was his condition, exactly?“
    Burns had to admit that he didn’t know what Usher’s condition was, not exactly.
    Napier didn’t care. “So anyway the old pal buries his twin sister alive, she breaks out of the coffin, gets out of the basement, and comes after him. Then the whole house falls down. Right?“
    “Right.“
    “Well, what about the servants?   The guy who rode up is the only one who gets away, so what about the servants?   Did they just stay in there and let the house fall down around them?   Or did they slide out the back door before the big crash?   It looks to me like if Poe was any kind of a writer, he’d tell you stuff like that.“
    “Well,“ Burns said, “what happens to the servants isn’t really the point of the story. You see—“
    “No,“ Napier said. “I don’t see. It’s the details that matter, Burns, and Poe was weak on the details. What’s that other story, the one about the letter?“
    “’The Purloined Letter,’“ Burns said.
    “Yeah, that one. Guy goes in to a dimly lighted room. He’s wearing sunglasses so dark the other guy there can’t see his eyes, but he still manages to read the address on a letter from all the way across the room. You think anyone could really do that?“
    “Probably not, but—“
    “Don’t give me any buts . It’s the details, Burns, the details. Like that story about the ape.“
    “’The Murders in the Rue Morgue.’“
    “Right again, Burns. You were probably a real whiz in grad school. Anyway, in that one the ape kills the women and then goes out the window. And we’re supposed to believe that he closes the window so that it locks behind him. Do you believe an ape would do that, Burns?“
    Burns said that he wasn’t sure.
    “Me neither,“ Napier said. “But if I were betting, I’d bet against the ape. Apes in general aren’t that polite. That window’s another detail, Burns, but an important one.“
    “I always enjoy discussing literature with you,“ Burns told him, “but somehow I don’t really think you came here to give me your views on the short fiction of Edgar Allan Poe.“
    “Right again. You’re sharp as an icepick today, Burns.“
    Burns didn’t feel particularly sharp. What he felt was worried. When Boss Napier dropped by your office, it wasn’t a good sign. Visits from Boss Napier, in fact, ranked right up there with telephone calls from deans.
    “Why did you come, then?“ Burns asked.
    “I told you,“ Napier said. “Details.“
    “Such as?“
    “Such as Matthew Hart. You ever hear of him?“
    “Of course I’ve heard of him. He used to teach here at HGC, but he found a way to make a lot more money. Now he sells insurance.“
    “Sold, Burns. He sold insurance.“
    “He’s retired?“
    “No, Burns. I got you that time. He hasn’t retired. He’s dead.“
    “I’m sorry to hear it,“ Burns said. “I’ll bet he was well-insured.“
    “Very funny, Burns. I’m sure his family will get a big laugh out of that one.“
    Burns was nonplussed. Boss Napier—Mister Sensitivity?   That was about as likely as Woody Allen winning an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike contest. Something was really off kilter.
    “I didn’t mean to be callous,“ Burns said. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on