Free Chasing Pancho Villa by R. L. Tecklenburg

his entire body situated in the space between the two cots. His feet pointed toward the open doorway of the front entrance. “Maybe like this, señor.”
    â€œHmm.” Harrison studied his position. “In your opinion, sergeant, is it reasonable to believe that was the final position of a man who shot himself?”
    â€œSeñor?”
    Both men stood to face each other.
    â€œIt seems to me that a man would not take his own life sitting in a chair at his writing table or standing. That’s what I mean.” James continued to closely examine the premises. “According to a military police report we received only a week ago, the bullet entered here. An Army .45 caliber bullet.” He touched his forehead. “The medical examiner described the wound as compatible with a self-inflicted gunshot. That is, powder burns indicated that the gun—Bart’s own gun—was very close to his face. But I wonder, sergeant. Why in the forehead? And look where the hole is in the canvas.” He pointed to the tear about ten feet away from where the body was found. “What do you think, Sergeant Parilla?”
    The soldier stared at the civilian. “No se, Señor James. Es posible. I have seen many different ways that a man falls as he dies. And the bullet? Quien sabe?”
    â€œYou may be right.” Harrison said. “The stains are over there closer to that entrance, near where he supposedly fell. But look, sergeant, at the hole in the canvas.” Juan looked to where James pointed. “Bart was supposedly sitting at the desk or standing between the cots.” He pointed to the blood stains on the floor behind him on the far side of the tent. Then he ran a forefinger around the edge of the tear. “That is what the medical examiner stated in his report. And way over here we have the bullet exiting the tent. Hmm.” Harrison sat in the chair and contemplated bullet trajectory. “I don’t think the hole is at the correct height or angle, and the blood stains don’t seem right, either. The scene is confusing to me.”
    â€œI do not believe he here like they say,” Parilla said slowly. “But I cannot know. I think he sit in his chair at his desk, facing this way.” Juan’s back was toward the rear entrance, away from James. “He was maybe sitting like this when he shoot. He fall back and the chair turn over.” He turned the chair over for closer examination. “Look, Señor James. Blood, no?” The Sergeant pointed at the dried spots on the wood back. “Maybe he die falling, I think. And the bullet go in that direction.” He pointed at the tear.
    â€œThen you think he was sitting at his desk when he shot himself?”
    â€œSí, es posible, no?” the sergeant replied.
    â€œWhere was the chair when you arrived?” Harrison asked.
    â€œIt was at the desk like we see today, señor.” Juan replied. “The major order me to clean everything in this tent. I discover the blood then, no?”
    â€œSomeone could have been here in the tent with Bart.” Harrison thought out loud. “They disagreed, struggled perhaps. My brother was shot at close range and he fell backward. Maybe the killer moved his body after he was already dead. That’s why the blood stains are over there by the front entrance. To make it look like suicide”
    â€œSeñor James, that is not the way they say it happened. The colonel and the major investigate, eh?” But the Sergeant was wondering also. The blood stains on the chair and the position the body was found seemed confusing.
    â€œYes, but it could have happened another way,” Harrison said, still going over the scene. “You left the stain on the chair?”
    â€œSí, señor.” Juan paused, and then said quickly, “Evidence, I think.”
    â€œWhere did my brother keep his gun when he wasn’t wearing it?” Harrison’s