Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 44, No. 4, April 1980

“What about Specialist Smothers?”

“He knows there was a project called SMITTEN, but he never really knew what it was.”

“I mean, what do you think of Smothers?”

“Oh, he’s not a bad kid. Nothing outstanding, but not bad.” He came back with me from Bamberg. “He’s probably put our truck in the motor pool by now.”

“Truck?”

“A duce and a half. S-2 goes into the field for training maneuvers just like any other section. More than most. We not only carry radios for communication during war games, we also take along maps, charts, a number of special logs, manuals and other equipment,” Cross explained. “After Smothers has finished in the motor pool, he’ll head for the billets. That’s Headquarters Battery, of course. It’s right across the street from this building if you want to go there tonight.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Lansing yawned. “We’ve all had a long day.”

“I can expect to see you in the morning then?” Cross inquired as he unbolted the steel door.

“Probably in the afternoon,” Lansing corrected. “I’m going to Ansbach first to draw the 201 files of everyone in S-2.”

“Including mine?” the Captain asked with a start.

Lansing nodded.

“I think you’ll discover getting the 201 files of S-2 personel to be rather difficult, Major.”

“Solving a murder case is often difficult, Captain,” Lansing replied. “But I always solve them.”

SP5 Wendy Davis, Lansing’s personal secretary, was humming contentedly as the Major entered his office at CID headquarters. He glanced at the attractive twenty-six-year-old WAC with curiosity as he moved to his desk.

“You seem in good spirits this morning.”

“We have reason to be, sir.” She smiled. “Major Conglose just left. He’ll be on leave in France for the next thirty days!”

“I hope he enjoys himself,” Lansing commented, trying to conceal his relief. Conglose was also a CID officer, but he regarded Lansing as a rival that somehow threatened his status in the military. Lansing was pleased to hear that Conglose was gone, because the senior Major frequently interfered with his investigations.

“How’s your wrist, sir?” Wendy inquired.

“It feels like it was never broken,” Lansing assured her as he placed a briefcase on his desk. “I was glad to get the cast off.”

“Did you get the 201’s from Ansbach?”

“Finally,” Lansing replied. “I had to wait to be cross checked by both CID headquarters in Nuremberg and Army Intelligence. Of course, they can’t just hand out personnel files concerning S-2 without taking proper security measures.”

“Oh, yes!” Wendy exclaimed. “Specialist Woods and Specialist Bartholomew completed the autopsy and lab investigation. Their reports are on your desk.”

“Thank you.” Lansing fished the file folders from his IN box. The autopsy revealed no surprises. Lieutenant Benton had died from numerous injuries caused by the explosion. His lungs had been ruptured, his spinal column severed, and he’d suffered considerable internal bleeding from “lesser” injuries. The lab report, however, was more provocative. “This is interesting,” Lansing muttered. “Bartholomew believes the explosive was an RDX composition, possibly C-four.”

“What’s that mean?” a confused Wendy inquired.

“It means two things. First, Benton’s death was no accident and second, the killer used plastic explosives.” Lansing continued to read the lab report, then added, “There was bits of primacord and fragments of two timing devices found in the wreck. That means the bomb wasn’t supposed to go off as soon as the ignition was switched on.”

“Why would the killer use two timing devices?” Wendy asked. “In case the first one failed?”

“Perhaps,” Lansing mused. “But Bartholomew’s report suggests there were actually two explosions, two bombs. I suspect the first was intended to disable Benton’s car, probably after he’d driven off post, to make him lose control of the automobile. The second bomb was to make certain he didn’t survive the crash.”

“So it was suppose to look like an accident?”

“Yeah, the S-2 section at Montgomery Barracks seems to have more than its share of accidental death,” Lansing remarked thoughtfully. “Wendy, you’ve got your work cut out for you today.”

“Okay, sir,” she sighed. “Hit me with the bad news.”

“I want you to find out what happened to the corpse of a certain Spec. Four Lundy. He supposedly broke his neck by ‘falling’ down a flight of stairs, so his body was probably shipped back to the States. When you find out where he is, I want you to get in touch with the nearest CID headquarters in the city, county or state where the late Specialist Lundy now resides. Tell them I want an autopsy. If there’s any possibility Lundy’s neck may have been broken before he tumbled down those stairs, I want to know about it.”

“Wow!” Wendy exclaimed, shaking her head. “That’s some order.”

“Just do the best you can, Wendy. I’m going to read through these 201 files briefly and then head back to Montgomery Barracks.”