Read Wading Into War: A Benjamin Wade Mystery for Free Online Page B

their
guns.” He leaned on one elbow and gave me the stare that had withered so many
criminals in the interrogation room. “If I asked for a sample from your gun, do
you think it would match?”
    I tried very hard to maintain my outwardly cool demeanor. I picked up the
Lone Star and drank off a third. Burman’s reputation was legendary and came
with more than a grain of truth. His eyes, dark as ebony, bore into me. My
stomach sank. I needed a few moments to think. The beer was already turning
warm in the humid evening. I replaced the bottle on the exact same ring of
condensation that had already formed on the table.
    From the rear of the restaurant, the pay phone rang. I gave Burman
another stare. I hoped it was hard. I waited to see if Bubba called my name.
Sure enough, he did.
    Burman said, “Expecting a call?”
    I stood, picked up my beer by the neck, and let it dangle between my
fingers. “Depending on what the caller has to say, we all might be getting some
good news.”

Chapter
Thirteen
     
    I strolled to the rear of the joint and tried
to give an air of someone in complete control. The phone was hanging on its
cord. I put it to my ear. “This is Wade.”
    Gardner’s voice crackled through the static. “Holy smokes, Wade, what the
hell have you gotten me into?”
    I slid into the booth and closed the door. Through the grimy little
window, I watched as Burman and Lillian talked. I wanted to be in two places at
once.
    “Tell me what you found.”
    Gardner strung a bunch of words together, among which were “Germany,”
“Nazi bastards,” “camps,” and “murder.” That last one got me.
    “Hold on, Gordon, slow down. Take it from the top. Tell me what you
found. Did you have any trouble getting to the mailbox?”
    I heard deep breathing on the other end of the line. “Not really. The
owner looked at me funny, but I spoke all four of the Hebrew sentences I knew.
Must’ve convinced him because he walked around to the rear of the mailbox and got
the one thing that was in there: a manila envelope about an inch thick.”
    Across the restaurant, Burman said something that made Lillian smile.
    Gardner continued. “I opened it right then and there. Inside were pages
and pages of notes, some typewritten, others handwritten.” He paused long
enough that I thought the line was dead. “And there were photographs.” His
voice changed when he said that.
    “Of what?”
    “Bodies,” he said, giving the word some weight. “Bodies of people
murdered by the Germans. Murdered, I tell you.”
    “Hey, Gordon, lemme ask you this: how do you know they were murdered?”
    “Come on, Wade. I’m a reporter. I’ve seen my share of stiffs. I know what
dead bodies look like. Especially when they’re piled together like logs for a
fire.”
    “The notes in the envelope. You read any of them?”
    “Enough to know the gist. This Rosenblatt guy was on some sort of
mission. He didn’t say for whom. There are lots of references to a Samuel
Saxton, and much more. Seems like he was looking for this guy but then stumbled
upon a campsite filled with murder and dead bodies.”
    I pondering a moment. “So, I’ve got two people dead because...”
    “Two?” he sputtered. “Who else?”
    “Don’t know his name, but he nearly killed me.”
    “You kill him?”
    I gazed out at Lillian. “No, not me. A friend. Well, I think she’s a
friend.”
    “The ‘shes’ in your life are almost always your ‘friends,’” he said, a
little more of his non-excitable nature returning to his voice.
    “Funny. I’ve got two people dead because of this. Army guys picked me up
earlier tonight and I’ve got Nazis chasing after me and Miss Saxton.”
    “Oh, she has a name, does she?”
    “Quiet. Tell me what’s so important that everyone’s after that envelope?”
    His voice strained with incredulity. “Are you serious? Rosenblatt
uncovered a war crime. And he has the evidence. What the Nazis are doing is
illegal.”
    “Gordon, the