The University Showdown Page 6

  “Kill her?”

  “No,” Melvin said, “but get rid of her.”

  “Tell me something, Doug.”

  “What?”

  “Why have you never slept with my wife?”

  “Because,” Melvin said, “I’m the only one you trust.”

  “All right,” Bodeen said, “have my horse brought around in the morning.”

  “Don’t you want to know who Bailey said tied him up?” Melvin asked.

  “Oh, I already know,” Bodeen said. “I’ll be riding into town in the morning to take care of them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you will be coming with me.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Melvin said. “See you then, sir.”

  “Good night, Doug.”

  “I have a room at the Crystal,” Fellows said. “I guess I might have to give that up, too, if I get fired.”

  They were walking down the almost deserted Tucson main street. The only sound came from the various saloons and dance halls.

  “I’m sure there are rooms at my hotel,” Clint said, “but why worry about it before it happens?”

  “You’re probably right,” Fellows said. “I’ll just go to work in the morning and see what happens.”

  “Good man,” Clint said. “I’ll be at my hotel, and I’ll probably have breakfast there. If you want to join me, come by.”

  “I might do that,” Fred Fellows said. “Thank you, Clint.”

  “For what?”

  “It was an interesting day, no matter what happens.”

  Clint slapped the man on the back and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  Clint watched the younger man walk off into the darkness, then turned and walked to his own hotel.

  TWENTY

  “He wants me to ride into town with him tomorrow,” Doug Melvin said.

  Cynthia rolled over in bed and looked at him. He looked at her naked ass, reached out, and stroked it.

  “So ride in,” she said. “He’s probably going to try to flex his muscles, get somebody fired. That’s about all he can do.”

  Doug Melvin looked over at the locked door to her room.

  “Are you sure he won’t come walkin’ in here?” he asked.

  “He wouldn’t dare,” she said, “and he’s got no reason to.”

  She kissed his chest, his belly, and moved lower, running her tongue over his penis. It had taken her a while to lure Melvin into her bed, but tonight was the night. She wondered why, but did not hesitate to give it much more thought. She opened her mouth and took his hard cock inside. This was her biggest victory over her husband. His trusted foreman in her power.

  Men were so easy, and so stupid…but sometimes very tasty.

  “So what happened in the barn?” she asked later.

  Exhausted, lying on his back, he said, “Two men got in there and inspected all the horses.”

  “What two men?”

  “Clint Adams, and a detective from the police department, somebody named Fellows.”

  “What were they looking for?”

  “My man says they were inspecting the horses’ hooves,” he told her.

  “And why would they do that?”

  “My best guess is, they were trying to match a horse’s hoof to a track.”

  “Did they find what they were looking for?” she asked him.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Bailey said they picked out a certain horse and had him identify the owner.”

  “And whose horse was it?”

  He turned his head and looked at her.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes!” she said. “I asked, didn’t I?”

  “It was your horse, Cynthia,” he said. “Tell me, have you been setting any fires lately?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Did you tell Patrick about this?”

  “I did. He’s my boss, after all.”

  She pulled the sheet over her. “You have to leave now, Doug. I want to get some sleep.”

  “All right,” he said.

  He got up and got dressed, tried to kiss her but she turned away. He wondered, when the guilt hit him, if this had been worth it.

  Cynthia was worried. She had made sure to change the shoe on her horse when she found out about the nick. She didn’t really think anyone would be looking closer than that, but then she hadn’t expected the Gunsmith to be involved. A man like him would know when a new shoe was put on a horse, even if it didn’t look new.

  Damn it.

  She didn’t have much choice. She was going to have to go downstairs and talk to her husband about this. She pulled on one of her heavier robes and went downstairs.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Clint woke the next morning, hungry. In fact, he was still hungry even though he and Fellows had eaten a big meal when they got back the night before. This morning would be a steak-and-eggs and flapjacks morning.

  He went downstairs, didn’t find Fred Fellows waiting for him, so he ate alone, then went outside. He had to catch Cynthia Bodeen in town, and alone, so he could ask her about her horse. He sat there in a chair, giving the matter some thought.

  Patrick Bodeen came out of the house the next morning, found Doug Melvin waiting with two saddled horses.

  “Mornin’, boss,” the foreman said, fighting off the guilt from having slept with his boss’s wife.

  “Yeah, good morning,” Bodeen said, mounting up.

  “Somethin’ wrong?”

  They started riding toward town together.

  “You know what that bitch told me last night?”

  “Your wife?”

  “What other bitch do I have around? Yes, my wife.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She replaced the horse shoe on her horse. You know, that hinky one in the back?”

  “And?”

  “I told her to get rid of the whole horse!” Bodeen said. “Now I have to deal with it.”

  “Ain’t that what we’re goin’ to town to do today?” Melvin asked.

  “Yes,” Bodeen said, “that’s what we’re going to town to deal with today, but Jesus. The bitch could be a little help, couldn’t she? Christ!”

  Fred Fellows walked into the police station the next morning, ready for the worst. Nobody said a word to him as he walked to his desk. Then he realized it was probably too early—Patrick Bodeen had probably not even been to town yet.

  But then a fellow policeman stopped by his desk and said, “The chief wants to see you, Fred.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Okay.”

  Maybe Bodeen had ridden into town early, after all.

  Fellows entered the chief’s office and Coleman said, “Have a seat, Fred.”

  “Yessir.”

  “I want to know where you are with the university vandalism.”

  “Well, sir, we went out to Mr. Bodeen’s ranch and talked to him yesterday.”

  “‘We’?” Coleman asked. “What do you mean ‘we’? Who went with you?”

  “Um, Clint Adams was actually going to ride out there himself, so I went along with him to make sure nothing happened.”

  “What did you think would happen?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Fellows said, “I was just trying to keep a lid on things, since Mr. Bodeen is such an influential citizen.”

  “Yes, well, that may have been the right thing to do,” the chief said. “What happened?”

  “I should back up a bit,” Fellows said. “First we rode out to the site and Mr. Adams showed me these tracks he’d found.”

  “What tracks?”

  “Buckboard tracks, and some tracks made by a saddle horse. The buckboard tracks led back here to town, while the other tracks went directly to the Bodeen ranch.”

  “So that’s why you went to the ranch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ask him about the horse?”

  “We told him we tracked the horse to his ranch,
but he was very uncooperative.”

  “So you didn’t find out who owned the horse?”

  “We did, actually.”

  “Well, who’s was it?”

  “Um, the horse belonged to Mrs. Bodeen.”

  “What?”

  “It was his wife’s horse.”

  Coleman covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t yet secure enough in his job to be able to go up against a man like Patrick Bodeen. He would have to go to the mayor with this.

  “All right, anything else?” Coleman asked. “Am I going to hear from Mr. Bodeen about anything?”

  “Well…”

  “What did you do, Detective?” Coleman asked. “Or should I ask what did you and Clint Adams do?”

  “We didn’t want to leave without finding out whose horse we had followed to the ranch, so we waited until after dark and went in.”

  “So you went into the man’s barn without permission?” the chief asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep going, Detective,” Chief Coleman said. “Tell me all of it.”

  Fellows told his boss about tying up one of Bodeen’s men and inspecting all the horses. By the time he was done, Chief Coleman did not look very happy.

  “You know I’m going to hear about this, Detective,” Coleman said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is this the way you conducted your investigations back East?”

  “No, sir.”

  “So you let Clint Adams talk you into this course of action?”

  Fellows considered dropping this on Adams and letting him take the responsibility, but in the end he couldn’t do it.

  “No, sir, I can’t say that. I was the one with the badge, so the call was mine.”

  “So you’re willing to take responsibility for this, Detective?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right,” Coleman said. “You can go—and try to stay out of trouble, but keep investigating.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Fred Fellows left the office, Chief Coleman wondered if he was going to end up having to fire him.

  Bodeen and his foreman rode into town while Fellows was sitting with his chief.

  “Where to first, boss?” Melvin asked.

  “The mayor’s office,” Bodeen said. “I’m going to drop this right in his honor’s lap and let him handle it.”

  “What do you want him to do?”

  “Either fire that detective,” Bodeen said, “or fire the chief.”

  “What about Adams?”

  “I’ll figure out a way to handle the Gunsmith, Doug. Believe me.”

  “I hope so, boss,” Melvin said, “because there he is.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Clint was still seated outside the hotel when Bodeen and Melvin came riding into town. He held his position, decided to let them see him. They rode by and stared at him, but didn’t stop and didn’t say anything.

  They weren’t going to the police station, because they had already passed it, so Clint’s guess was Bodeen was going directly to the mayor. He hoped he hadn’t gotten the young detective fired.

  He turned his head and—speak of the devil—Fred Fellows was walking up to him.

  “Mornin’, Clint.”

  “Fred,” Clint said. “Are you still employed?”

  Fellows stepped up onto the boardwalk and said, “For now.”

  “You see Bodeen just ride in?”

  “That’s why I said ‘For now,’” Fellows said. “Bodeen and his foreman look like they’re riding to the mayor’s office.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “What are your plans for today?” Fellows asked.

  “I’m going to ride back out to the site to see Fitz and tell him what we found out.”

  “What did we find out?” Fellows asked.

  “Well, the horse that left the tracks belonged to Mrs. Bodeen. That doesn’t mean she was riding it at the time, but it does mean that Bodeen’s involved.”

  “So he’s been hiring someone to vandalize the university?”

  “That would be my guess, unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless it’s Cynthia Bodeen who’s been hiring someone to do it,” Clint said.

  “The woman?”

  Clint shrugged.

  “Why would she want to sabotage the project?” Fellows asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clint said. “I guess I’ll ask her, when I ask her about the horse.”

  “And when would that be?”

  “I’d have to get her alone,” Clint said. “Either out at the house, or here in town.”

  “Well,” Fellows said, “Bodeen is in town.”

  “That’s true.” Clint got out of his chair. “We could ride out there first, talk to her, then hit the site on the way back. What do you say?”

  “Let’s do it,” Fellows said, “while I still have a badge.”

  They headed for the livery together.

  The mayor’s girl stuck her head in his office and said, “Mr. Bodeen’s here.”

  Mayor Darling sat back in his chair and exhaled a big gust of air.

  “All right, send him in.”

  Bodeen came walking in, and the mayor knew the man wasn’t happy. All that remained to find out was how much weight he was going to try to throw around.

  “Patrick,” the mayor said, “what can I do for you this morning?”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do, David,” Bodeen said. He sat across from the mayor and told him what had happened the day and night before.

  “What did they find?” he asked when Bodeen was done.

  “It doesn’t matter what they found,” Bodeen said. “They assaulted one of my men.”

  “What do you want done?”

  “I want Adams arrested,” Bodeen said, “and I want either the detective or the chief fired.”

  “I’ll have to talk to the chief before I do anything, Patrick,” he said. “I mean, if I fire them both, who’ll arrest Adams?”

  “This isn’t funny, Mayor,” Bodeen said. “You’re trying to find out who’s vandalizing your university site, and your police are wasting time with me.”

  “All right, Patrick,” Darling said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Bodeen stood up and pointed a finger at the mayor.

  “Get it done, Mr. Mayor,” he said, “or I’ll be looking for your head next.”

  Darling stood up.

  “You’re an important man in this county, Patrick, but don’t threaten me. I won’t stand for it.”

  “Is that right? We’ll see about that.”

  Bodeen turned and stalked out of the mayor’s office. Darling sat back down and exhaled heavily again.

  His girl came in and said, “Sir?”

  “Get Dennis for me, Mary.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She closed the door, and Darling reclined in his chair. He knew Adams was going to be trouble.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Clint and Fellows saddled their horses and rode out to the Bodeen ranch as fast as the detective’s horse would go. Clint could have outdistanced him with Eclipse, but chose to ride at the detective’s pace.

  When they arrived at the ranch, they rode up to the house and dismounted. Fellows waved off the ranch hand as they went up the steps.

  “We’re here to see Mrs. Bodeen,” he told them.

  “But the boss ain’t—” one of them started, but they ignored him and went into the house.

  In the house they stopped and Clint shouted, “Cynthia! Are you here?”

  They were about to leave the entry foyer to look for her when she appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “What the hell are you doing in my house?” she demanded.

  “Show her your badge, Fred,” Clint suggested.

  Fellows took it out and said, “Detective Fellows, ma’am, Tucson Police.”

  “Not for much longer, Detective, when my husband finds out you burst into our house without permission.�
��

  “Sorry, Cynthia, that was my doing.”

  “Really? Then maybe I should have the detective, here, arrest you.”

  “Come on down, Cynthia,” Clint said. “We need to talk with you.”

  She started down the steps, but said, “About what?”

  “Your horse.”

  She got to the bottom of the steps and asked, “Would either of you like a drink?”

  “No, thanks,” Clint said.

  “Not me,” Fellows said.

  “Well, I want one,” she said. “You might as well come into the living room.”

  She didn’t wait for them to comment. She started walking, and they followed her.

  In the living room she poured herself a brandy from a sidebar, then turned to face them.

  “So what’s wrong with my horse?”

  “It has a new shoe on that doesn’t match the others,” Clint said.

  “I wasn’t aware that horseshoes were required to match.”

  “I think you know what I’m talking about, Cynthia,” Clint said.

  “I don’t think I do, Clint. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  “We followed some tracks from the site of a fire at the university,” Clint said. “They led us here.”

  “How does that make it my horse?”

  “The track had a distinctive print because of one of the horseshoes,” Clint said, “and you have a new shoe on your horse.”

  “I don’t do the shoeing, Clint,” Cynthia said. “That’s somebody else’s job. If someone reshoed my horse, I don’t know anything about it. Why don’t you question the men?”

  “Does that mean we have permission to question them?” Fellows asked.

  “Do you need permission?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then you don’t have it. Anything else?”

  “Cynthia,” Clint said, “what do you have to do with the vandalism out at the university site?”

  “Well,” she said, “right to the point, Mr. Gunsmith.”

  “I hope you’ll answer me the same way.”

  “I can do that.” She walked up to him so that she was only inches from him, then put her face right close to his. “I don’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Does your husband?’ Fellows asked.

  “That would be his business,” she said. “I don’t know anything about my husband’s business.” She glanced over at Fred, then looked back, staring directly at Clint. “Why don’t you get rid of him, and you and I can get better acquainted.”