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

“Whoever this murderer is, if he killed Lundy as well, he must be awfully ruthless, even by killers’ standards,” Wendy remarked.

“Yeah,” Lansing agreed. “And if he intended to cause a car wreck to give the impression that Benton died by accident, he didn’t care if innocent by standers were killed in the process. I’d say that’s pretty ruthless.”

Specialist fourth class Dale Smothers emerged from the S-2 section and met Lansing in the basement corridor. A short, thin young man with jet black hair (striking because his complexion was extremely pale), Smothers nodded nervously to Lansing’s suggestion that they step outside to talk. The Spec. Four’s entire body seemed to quiver as he and Lansing moved through the exit and walked onto the driveway behind the head shed.

“That’s it, huh?” Smothers inquired, referring to the charred patch of ground where Lt. Benton’s Datsun had been.

“That’s it,” Lansing confirmed.

“How well did you know the XO?”

“Not real well, I guess,” Smothers replied as he started to put his hands into his pants pockets. Realizing he was violating military dress regulations, Smother jerked his hands free, then fluttered them about awkwardly as if trying to decide what to do with them.

“How do you feel about his death?”

“Oh! Well, that’s awful.” The SP4 balled his hands into fists by his sides.

“Yeah,” the CID Investigator muttered as he decided to change his line of questioning. “Tell me about Lundy. He was in your section, so you probably shared a room with him. What was he like?”

“Lundy?” Smothers seemed startled, his nose was running and he sniffed hard before replying.

“He was okay. We were never buddies, but we got along all right. He sort of kept to himself. You know, sir?”

“I’d appreciate an explanation.”

“Well, Lundy read a lot, stayed in his room most of the time. Now, me, I try to get out of this place every night. I like to go down town and boogie.”

“We’re you boogying the night Lundy died?”

“No, sir. I was sound asleep in my room in the barracks.”

“Most drunks are pretty loud. Didn’t he wake you up?”

“I don’t think he came into the room, sir.”

“How did it happen?”

Smothers shrugged. “I guess Lundy was just drunk. He must have stumbled over to the stairs and fell. The NCO in Charge of Quarters Duty found him.”

“Didn’t Lundy attract a lot of attention? Didn’t he scream when he fell?”

“I don’t think so. Nobody ever mentioned hearing a scream.”

“Did he get drunk very often?”

“No, sir. That was the only time I ever recalled that he got loaded,”

“So Lundy didn’t drink much and he seldom left his room, but he did both that night.”

“That’s right. He was working late that night. As soon as he was through, he must have gotten liquored up.”

“Working late? Why was Lundy working any later than you?”

“Well, each of us has, special skills that help the section. Like me, I’m a truck driver. Lundy, he was good with radio equipment. Planned to become a TV repairman when he got out. He and Sergeant Smith both stayed late that night to get the equipment ready for a field trip later that week.”

“Smith, huh? How do you feel about nuclear energy and atomic weapons?”

“I don’t really think about it very much,” Smothers answered, surprised at Lansing’s sudden change of subjects.

“Most people have an opinion about such things,” Lansing said with a shrug. “According to your 201 file you spent some time in a reform school a few years ago. What happened?”

“Well, er, when I was about fifteen I stole a couple of cars. The cops caught me and they sent me to Shea’s Correctional Center, I guess I was always sort of keen on machines. I do my own maintenance on the section truck, you know.” He sniffled again, wiping his nose with a shirt sleeve.

“No, I didn’t know that,” Lansing replied, “But I’m not surprised.”

Sergeant first class Edgar Smith descended the stone stairs in front of the Montgomery headquarters building. He was surprised to see Major Lansing standing by the white Volkswagen, waiting for him. The NCO saluted as he approached.

“How’s the investigation going, sir?” Smith asked.

“I’m still collecting new information, Sergeant,” Lansing replied as he returned the salute. “For example, I read some interesting material about you in your 201 file today. I didn’t know you were a demolitions expert in Vietnam.”

“Oh!” Smith nodded. “I get your point.”

“Did you ever use any plastic explosives? Composition-four maybe?”

“Was C-four used to blow up Benton’s car?”

“Perhaps,” Lansing shrugged. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Sure,” Smith nodded. “It’s nice stuff. Stable, flexible and damn powerful. Of course, C-four isn’t the easiest explosive to come by. I doubt if a single arms room In Montgomery Barracks has a single ounce of it, and plastic explosives aren’t the sort of thing you can whip up in your garage.”

“True, but one could probably buy them from the German black market.”

“If one knew a few German hoods or had some sort of clandestine connections,” Smith agreed. “Which I don’t. Of course, I don’t expect you to believe me.”