The staked Goat

right.”
    ”Where’d his gun go?”
    Nice shift of gears. I hoped Parras and Wasser were learning something.
    ”I don’t know. He threw a shot at me from the passenger’s side, then I pumped two shots at him as his partner hit me. I was close, maybe six feet. I let fly another shell, but I think the guy was already on his way. I got up and got only close enough to the guy I shot to know I’d finished him. I never saw a gun.”
    ”How do you know he had one?” snapped Kyle. ”Because he shot at me, Chief.”
    ”Ah, how do you know it wasn’t his partner?” ventured a hesitant Parras.
    ”Two different reports.”
    ”Whose reports?”
    ”Not written reports, Parras,” I said. Though he had the same rank as Murphy, he didn’t belong on the same level in my mind, so I accorded him no title. ”Report as in sound of the shots. Two different weapons.”
    ”What kinds?” said Kyle.
    ”Sorry, but I’m not that expert, Chief. I could just tell there was a difference in the noises.”
    I stole a look at Murphy. He was not pleased at the useless tangents being pressed by the locals, but politely played invited guest. He waited till it was quiet, then resumed.
    ”So you didn’t take any gun from him?”
    ”No.”
    ”Or anything else?”
    I shook my head.
    ”Cuddy, the man had nothing on him. No keys, no wallet, not a label in his clothes.”
    ”I can’t explain that.”
    Parras broke in. ”You see anybody in the area who could have stripped him?”
    ”Shut up, Parras,” said Kyle.
    Murphy didn’t bother to let me answer.
    ”And you figure that the dead man is the guy who killed your friend?”
    ”That’s what I figure. Matthew Crowley. The dead man is about the right size. I spotted him in the files I reviewed in Washington. You can call a Colonel Kivens at—”
    Murphy closed his eyes and held up his hand. I stopped. ”If you volunteer it, it’ll check out.”
    ”It should just be a matter of checking his fingerprints,” I said.
    ”Chief?” said Murphy.
    Kyle shook his head, then stood and slouched toward the door. Murphy got up, too, and Kyle followed him out. Parras muttered something to Wasser, who nodded. Parras followed the first string out of the room.
    I looked over at Wasser.
    ”Deli-Master, huh,” he said.
    I drooped a little onto my pillow. ”I’m sorry about that. I was a little pissed off.”
    ”Forget it,” said Wasser, digging around in his parka pocket. ”You were in ‘Nam, huh?”
    ”Yeah.”
    ”Me, too.”
    I looked at Wasser. ”Outfit?”
    ”First Cav.”
    The First Cavalry, Airmobile. The helicopter unit that was caricatured in the ”Death from Above” sequence in Apocalypse Now. A unit that in real life caught a lot of tough fights.
    ”You?” he said, trying another pocket.
    ”MPs.”
    He squinted at me, as though trying to judge something. ”Tet?”
    ”Yeah.”
    ”Your friend, too? The guy the stiff killed?”
    ”Yes.”
    Wasser came up with a candy bar. He gestured with it toward me the way soldiers probably have since the Caesars. The gesture that said ”you-want-half?”
    ”Thanks, no.”
    He shrugged, unwrapped it, took a bite, chewed thoughtfully. ”You know,” he said, ”one thing I don’t figure.”
    ”What’s that?”
    ”I seen a lotta dead guys.”
    ”Yeah?”
    ”Yeah. Mostly in ‘Nam, I admit. But a lot.” He took another bite of his bar. ”Never saw anybody hit as bad as that stiff leave so little blood.”
    The Staked Goat I thought about the volume of blood Crowley must have left in the Pontiac. ”It was pretty cold out there. Retards the bleeding.”
    ”Probably.” Just kept chewing. ”Only thing is”—he swallowed—”that round the partner threw at you, shoulda been in your left arm, not your right.” I thought about it, felt a little flush around my ears. ”I must have turned or something.” I sounded hollow.
    He finished the bar, sucked on his finger. ”Maybe,” he said, ”but you weren’t dressed warm enough for this time of year and I don’t see the partner stripping the stiff, especially not cuttin’ the labels and all. I also don’t see the missing gun. And to top it, I sure don’t see you being close enough to ID the stiff but not the car before you took his face off.”
    ”So?” I said, not liking the turn our talk was taking. He didn’t reply immediately. He examined his fingers for any missed traces of chocolate, then focused on me. ”So, I figure you set the guy up somehow.”
    ”No