gravestones covered in lichen, dates fading back centuries.
“His name was Thomas Eastman, and he was found right here,” Tree said, pointing to a grave marker. It read Samuel Eastman, 1888–1937. Next to it was Samuel’s wife, Mary. The whole row was Eastmans, generations of them.
“Is this a joke?” I asked.
“Nope,” Tree said. “Police Constable Thomas Eastman was found right here, at the foot of his pappy’s grave. Head bashed in.”
“Why?” I said, and Tree shrugged. I wasn’t really asking him anyway. This was odd. Beyond odd. “Did Angry and Eastman know each other?”
“They had words, a couple of weeks back.”
“Tree, now’s the time to tell me everything. Did they fight?”
“No,” Tree said as Kaz wandered off to the edge of the cemetery. “Eastman told him to stay away from his sister.”
“He didn’t want a Negro walking out with her?”
“He did call him a damned darkie, but that wasn’t what it was about. His sister is married. Her husband came home wounded from Burma a few days ago. Eastman didn’t want Angry around her.”
“But he had been around her, right?”
“Yeah. The first word they got was that her husband had been killed. I got the impression he was a real bastard, and no one was shedding any tears. That’s when Angry began spending more time with her.”
“But then they find out he was only wounded, and is on his way home. Is that when Eastman and Angry had words?”
“Yeah. I think he was afraid for his sister if Malcolm found out. Malcolm Adams, he’s the husband.”
“Angry could’ve made it up here after he was off duty. I’ve seen how loose security is at your bivouac. Maybe he arranged to meet Constable Eastman here, to try and work things out. Maybe it didn’t go well. Eastman might have called him names, got him to live up to his reputation.”
“I don’t believe it,” Tree said, shaking his head. “Why here? Why would anyone meet at their family plot in a graveyard in the dead of night? It’s crazy.”
“It made sense to someone,” I said, looking back to the road. A column of GIs in full packs trotted by, the insignia of the Hundred-and-First Airborne visible on their shoulders. “They from around here?”
“The Hundred-and-First is spread out in every direction. They have a Jump School here in Chilton Foliat and one of their regiments is headquartered about a mile down the road, at Littlecote House. Big mansion, where they got their brass bunked.”
The stomp of boots on pavement faded as the unit passed by. No shortage of combat-trained men around here. But who did Constable Eastman in, and why did they leave him on his father’s grave?
“What evidence did they have against Angry? Anyone see him with Eastman?”
“Sure they did. Eastman lived here but was on duty in Hungerford most days. MPs from the Criminal Investigations Division came nosing around the next morning, after Eastman’s body was found. We’d all come in late and not entirely sober, so none of us could say we’d seen Angry. I think someone must’ve tipped them off about the argument.”
“Malcolm Adams? Could he have done this and blamed it on Angry?”
“Maybe. But he was shot up pretty bad in the legs. Not sure he could’ve managed it. From what I hear, he prefers beating up on women.”
“What did Angry say when they came for him?”
“Said he’d been in camp all night, and hadn’t seen Eastman since they last had words.”
“Jesus, what a mess,” I said, as I heard Kaz call us from the stone wall near the woods.
“Look,” Kaz said. He pointed to a trail that came up to a gate in the wall. It was wide enough for a vehicle, barely. “Where does this lead?”
“I think that would take you to the Jump School,” Tree said. “There’s a lane up that hill that takes you to a horse farm where they have a parachute training school. I hear it’s for training medics, doctors, chaplains, and any other non-combat support personnel joining the Hundred-and-First.”
“So anyone could have brought a body in, unseen, and dumped it here,” Kaz said.
“Goddamn, you’re right,” Tree said. “Think CID looked at this?”
“I’ll find out,” I said. “It doesn’t get Angry off the hook, but it opens up a range of possibilities.”
“You’ll investigate, then?” Tree said. I saw the hope in his eyes, and I thought for a second that this might patch things up between us. But I didn’t know if I could.
“Tree, I’m on leave, remember? After today I have only four days left. I have to be at SHAEF in the morning, then I’m catching a train north for a few days of rest.”
“Billy has been in Italy,” Kaz said, leaving so much unsaid.
“So you won’t,” Tree said, and walked back toward the jeep.
“It’s not that,” I said, trying to convince myself as I followed him. “There’s a dozen things to do; talk to CID, talk to the local cops, talk to the girl, and then move on to whatever that brings up. I’m not even on duty, I won’t have any resources.”
“Okay, I get it,” Tree said. “You’re getting a promotion and then you’re going off with your girl. Can’t blame a man for that. What about when you get back?”
“I’ll make inquiries to CID before I leave. When I return, I’ll see what I can do. Unless we get an assignment.”
“What kind of assignments do you get?” Tree asked, obviously thinking his pal’s troubles should come first.
“Kaz and I are part of General Eisenhower’s Office of Special Investigations. We look into things for the general. Quietly.”
“You’re still a cop then. Still in the Boyle family business,” Tree said, as if that might be a curse. I couldn’t really blame him if he thought that. Which told me that Tree was damn certain Angry Smith wasn’t a murderer. He’d never ask me for a favor without being a hundred percent certain he was right. He was too damn proud to take a chance on being wrong.
“Yes, I am. And based on what you’ve told us, I know two things for certain.”
“What are they?” Tree said, starting up the jeep.
“That Angry Smith is innocent, and that you’re both damned lucky I am still a cop. Now if you don’t mind, we have a train to catch.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It was a quiet ride to the train station. My head was awash with memories and murder. I didn’t know if Tree and I were friends again, or if this was simply a truce so he could get his gunner back. I didn’t know if I wanted to be his friend again. Sometimes there’s no going back. We were both older now, old enough to understand that those years when we yearned to grow into adults and leave our youthfulness behind may have been the best years of our lives. The passage of time, and the war, had conspired to dull the sense of anticipation we had felt before everything fell apart. Tree today wasn’t the Tree I had known. I wasn’t the same guy he’d hung around with either.
“Thanks for coming, Billy,” Tree said as we stood on the station platform. “You too, Lieutenant Kazimierz.” He gave Kaz a snappy salute.
“It was good to meet you, Sergeant,” Kaz said, returning the salute and extending his hand. “We will do what we can.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Tree said as they shook hands. A group of GIs moved around us, one of them muttering “goddamn nigger” as he brushed by Tree, throwing him off balance.
“Hey, Private!” I shouted, but he was lost in the crowd of GIs changing trains.
“It’s not worth it, Billy,” Tree said. “You dress him down, then the MPs come, and I get beat up for causing a disturbance. That’s how it goes. Just help Angry, and don’t fight my battles. Okay?”
