Read Online Jade Lady Burning by Martin Limon - Free Book Online

listening to the cursing of the man with the broken leg.

5

    W e didn’t bother to tell the first sergeant that Johnny Watkins’s marriage packet was in. We thought we’d check that out on our own. Besides, he was too busy interrogating Johnny, documenting his every step for the last twenty-four hours, and calling the provost marshal to let him know that we were off the hook—we had the suspect.
    Johnny’s story didn’t do much to help his case. He had gone out to the ville the night before last, like always, with Freddy and Sammy. They’d hit the King Club, the UN Club, the Lucky Seven, all the regular haunts. Just before curfew, Freddy and Sammy had hooked up with their steadies and made it to their hooches for the night.
    Johnny had seen Miss Pak when they stopped in the Lucky Seven around ten thirty. She seemed nervous, upset, angry, which wasn’t too unusual these days, according to Johnny. She had told him that she was busy that night and that he should go back to the compound. Kimiko had come into the club, policed up Miss Pak, and paraded her out the door.
    Since Johnny was getting screwed around by Miss Pak, it’s understandable that he didn’t let the first sergeant know right away about the marriage paperwork. He felt like a jerk, I guess, letting her run around like that on him. But I’ve seen stranger things. When a young man is in love … He mumbled something about her being a hostess at big parties for rich guys. There was probably some truth in that. But not the whole truth.
    After the first brief interrogation session the first sergeant seemed flushed with success. Johnny had no alibi. He also had a hell of a motive. The woman he loved was running around on him, escorted by the likes of Kimiko, the dregs of Itaewon.
    While Top was making some phone calls and preparing a briefing for the provost marshal, we slid out of the office, jumped in Ernie’s jeep, and went over to the Eighth Army Chapel.
    Churches always amaze me. Long clean carpets, polished pine, huge looming windows. So unlike the real world. A guy in clean but unstarched fatigues walked down the aisle towards us, smiling. Private First Class Hurchek. I’d seen him around the compound. At the snack bar, at the recreation center, at the library— every place but the Lower Four Club. He had dark brown hair cut in a shaggy crewcut, heavy eyebrows, and he looked like he was absolutely overjoyed to see us.
    “Good morning, gentlemen.” He sang the greeting. “Can I help you?”
    “We want to see the chaplain,” I said.
    Ernie flashed his identification at Hurchek, a lot faster than he normally does, like waving garlic at a vampire. Hurchek frowned. He realized that we weren’t there to save our souls. Although Lord knows, and so did Hurchek, that they needed saving.
    Hurchek put a finger to his lip and looked down at the wellmanicured carpet.
    “You don’t have an appointment?”
    “No.”
    “I’ll see if he has time to receive you.”
    He walked away and we sat down on a slippery bench in the hallway.
    “I don’t want him to receive us,” Ernie said. “I just want him to answer a few questions.”
    “Show a little respect, Ernie.”
    “You’re looking at my best act.”
    We were nervous—out of our environment. Two whores would have felt more at home than we did.
    Great soundproofing in these chapels. You can’t even hear whispering. After about five minutes, Hurchek opened the big oak door and waved us in. A ticket to see the wizard.
    Chaplain Sturdivant rose from behind his huge desk, walked around, and shook both our hands—earnestly. He was a small, trim man, balding, and from behind thick lenses his brown eyes pinned you. If he had grown a goatee and changed out of his fatigues into a black suit, he would have looked like Lenin.
    The great socialist leader sat back down at his desk. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
    “It’s about Spec-4 Watkins. He’s just been arrested under suspicion of murder. He