The University Showdown

by J. R. Roberts

  That remark seemed to embarrass Fellows, which both Clint and Cynthia found amusing.

  “Look at the young detective,” she said. “He’s blushing.”

  “I don’t have time today, Cynthia,” Clint replied. “Maybe another time.”

  “Soon, I hope.” She backed up, though not very far. “Anything else I can do for you gentlemen?”

  “Your husband is in town,” Clint said. “I think he might be trying to get Detective Fellows fired. I would like that not to happen.”

  “You don’t want me to tell him you were here,” she said. “You’re trying to protect your shy little friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “But some of the men must have seen you ride up.”

  “That’s okay,” Clint said. “If you don’t say anything about it—”

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

  “But?” Clint asked.

  “You’ll owe me,” she said, “and eventually, I’ll collect. But you won’t know when.”

  “All right, Cynthia,” Clint said.

  “Then we have a deal,” she said. “You’re safe, Mr. Detective.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bodeen.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said, “you can call me Cynthia.”

  “All right…Cynthia.”

  “And now, boys,” she said, “I think you better leave before the man of the house comes back.”

  “I think you’re right,” Clint said. “Come on, Fred.”

  Outside they mounted up and Fellows asked, “What did we find out from that?”

  “We found out,” Clint said, “that Mrs. Bodeen is a very calm customer.”

  “But we still don’t know if she’s involved.”

  “No, that’s right,” Clint said. “We don’t.”

  “Then I’m still lost.”

  “Let’s ride out to the site and see what’s going on there,” Clint suggested.

  “Fine,” a frustrated Fellows said.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  When they got to the site, not much had changed. There were still men on the ground, on the walls, and on the roof.

  They rode over to the shack where they expected to find Fitz and his architect, Art Sideman. Clint assumed Steve Taylor, the foreman, was somewhere in or near the building with his men.

  They walked to the door and opened it. Inside it was as if they had never left. Sideman and Fitz were standing over the plans for the building.

  “Well, where have you been?” Fitz asked.

  “Fitz, do you know Detective Fellows?” Clint asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve met,” Fitz said.

  “And this is Art Sideman, the architect,” Clint said. “This is Detective Fellows.”

  “Hello,” Sideman said, obviously anxious to get back to his plans.

  “What’s goin’ on? Why are the police here?” Fitz asked.

  “Fellows and I have been working together,” Clint said. “Did Taylor tell you about the tracks we found?”

  “Yeah, he did,” Fitz said. “He said you followed one set of tracks to the Bodeen place.”

  “That’s right. And one set to town.”

  “So what happened? You disappeared.”

  “I met Fellows and we decided to go out to Bodeen’s. If you’ve got time, we’ll tell you about it.”

  “Fitz, we gotta go over these plans.”

  “Still going over plans?” Clint asked.

  “Art, I gotta take a break.” There was another room in the shack. Clint could see two cots in there, but Fitz went in and came out with a bottle of whiskey.

  “Come on,” Fitz said to Clint. “Bring your policeman.”

  “I think I’ll stay in here and talk to Mr. Sideman,” Fellows said.

  “Okay,” Clint said.

  He and Fitz stepped outside. Fitz took the stopper out of the bottom and took a drink, then passed the bottle to Clint, who just took a sip. He told Fitz everything he and Fellows had done and found out.

  “Are you tellin’ me that Cynthia might be the Bodeen who’s causing all this?”

  “Well, I considered that for a while,” Clint said, “until we spoke to her.”

  “Now you don’t think so?”

  “No, she’s too calm,” Clint said.

  “Well, if the horse led you to the ranch, and it’s not her, then it’s him. And she hates him. Maybe she’ll give him up.”

  “Maybe she will,” Clint said. “I get the feeling I’ll have the chance to ask her.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means I think she’ll be coming for me soon,” Clint said.

  “Coming for you…how? To kill you?”

  “No, Fitz, that’s not what I mean,” Clint said. Was Fitz being deliberately dense? “I mean she’ll be trying to get me into her bed, like she tries with every man she meets.”

  “Well, maybe not every man.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothin’,” Fitz said. “I just think…she hasn’t met Art yet, you know?”

  “What about your foreman?”

  “Don’t know if she’s met him yet either.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “let’s stop worrying about who the lady’s met. I’m just saying she sees me as a challenge, and maybe I can use that.”

  “What about Bodeen?” Fitz asked. “He’s not just going to stand by while you question his wife.”

  “She’s not going to tell him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We made a deal.”

  “What deal?”

  “She doesn’t tell him, and I owe her.”

  “So Bodeen’s in town talking to the mayor? Is he going to go after that kid detective?”

  “Maybe,” Clint said. “I hope not. If Fellows gets fired, I’m going to feel responsible.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “We use your men as watchmen,” Clint said. “Six shifts, two men to a shift, two shifts a day for each team. And give them rifles.”

  “I thought you were going to do that.”

  “When I agreed to help, Fitz, I said I wasn’t a night watchman. I’m going to find out what’s going on—me and Fellows. Meanwhile, we’ll try to keep your site safe.”

  “With my men?”

  “You want to hire half a dozen guns to do it?” Clint asked.

  “I can’t justify paying for gunmen, not out of the twenty-five thousand.”

  “So then we’ll use the men you have. Get Steve to pick out the best half-dozen.”

  “If I know Steve, he’ll want to be one of them, so he’ll have to pick out five.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said. “I’m going to go back to town with Fellows and see what damage Bodeen has done there. Then I’ll come out here and spend the night.”

  “All right.” Fitz took the bottle back, pulled from it, and stopped it up again. “I’ve got to go back and fight with Art about the plans again. He’s constantly trying to change them.”

  “Why does he keep doing that?”

  “Because he’s crazy,” Fitz said.

  “Why did you hire him, then?”

  “I didn’t. The town hired him before they hired me. I’m stuck with him because he’s all I can afford.”

  “Well, I wish you luck,” Clint said. “I’ll get Fellows and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Look, Clint,” Fitz said, “I wasn’t questioning you. I really do appreciate your help.”

  “That’s okay, Fitz.”

  They walked back to the shack, where Clint retrieved Fellows and Fitz went back to work with Art Sideman.

  Clint had decided not to approach Fitz about his own relationship with Cynthia Bodeen. That was best left until later. He doubted very much that Fitz would be sabotaging his own project.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Fellows and Clint once again rode back to town. It seemed to Clint there was a lot of riding back and forth going on, without the desired effect.

  They didn’t pass Patrick Bodeen and his foreman
on the way in, so they assumed the men were still in Tucson.

  Clint looked over at Fellows, who seemed to be lost in thought.

  “You still worried about your job?”

  “I have to admit I’m thinking about it,” Fellows said. “I came a long way for this position.”

  “Well, I guess it’s my fault you’re in danger,” Clint said. “Maybe there’s something I can do to keep you from being fired.”

  “Like what?”

  “I could talk to the chief, and to the mayor.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “We’re certainly not friends,” Clint said. “I don’t know if they’ll listen to me, but I can try.”

  “Well,” Fellows said, “why don’t we just wait and see how it turns out? If I do get fired, I certainly won’t blame you. I make my own decisions.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Patrick Bodeen sat at a table with Doug Melvin in Hanigan’s Saloon, one of the largest in town.

  “Boss, are you gonna talk to the chief of police while we’re here?” Melvin asked.

  “Yeah, I am going to do that,” Bodeen said, “but I want you to wait here.”

  “And do what?”

  “Have another drink,” Bodeen said. “Just wait for me here.”

  Melvin shrugged and said, “Sure, Boss.”

  Bodeen stood up.

  “And if you see Adams or that detective, don’t talk to them.”

  “Yessir.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Bodeen left the saloon and walked over to the police station. He was shown immediately into the chief’s office.

  “I’ve already spoken with the mayor,” Bodeen said to the chief. “Your job is hanging by a thread.”

  “Maybe throwing you out of here will break that thread,” Chief Coleman said, “but I’m still tempted to do it.”

  “Now look here, it’s your detective who’s harassing me—”

  “He’s doing his job,” Coleman said. “Up to now you’ve neither been a help nor a hindrance to the investigation into the vandalism at the university site, and I’m okay with that. But if you do start to hinder the investigation, I won’t like it.”

  Bodeen stared at Coleman in disbelief.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No,” Coleman said. “I’m telling you I know you’re an influential member of this community, and I respect that. But don’t get in the way of me doing my job.”

  “I got you this job, Robert,” Bodeen said. “Do you remember that?”

  “Sure I do, Patrick,” Coleman said, “but that doesn’t put me in your pocket.” He patted his girth. “I’m way too big to be in anybody’s pocket.”

  Bodeen stood fuming.

  “We’ll see about that, Chief,” he said. “We’ll see.”

  He stormed out.

  Bodeen stormed into the saloon and said to Melvin, “Let’s go!”

  “But I just got—” Melvin started, looking at his fresh beer.

  “We’re riding out!” Bodeen snapped.

  “Yessir.”

  They walked outside to their horses, mounted up, and rode out.

  As they neared town, Clint and Fellows heard horses galloping toward them. They saw two riders at the same time the riders saw them.

  “That’s Bodeen and his foreman,” Clint said.

  “If they draw their guns—”

  “They won’t,” Clint said. “Bodeen won’t do that himself. He’d pay someone to do it.”

  “But if they do—”

  Clint looked at Fellows and said, “Then we could end this right here and now.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  As Bodeen and Melvin approached Adams and Fellows, the four of them slowed down, then stopped.

  “Been out to my house again?” Bodeen demanded. “Breaking in? Harassing my wife?”

  “I think you’re wife will tell you there was no harassment, Bodeen,” Clint said. “What about you, Bodeen? You get this young man fired just for doing his job?”

  “You go to town and find out,” Bodeen said.

  He urged his horse back into a run and galloped by them with his foreman in tow.

  “If she tells him…” Fellows said.

  “She won’t—and you’re not fired.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If he had managed to get you—or your chief—fired, he would have taken great pleasure in telling us so. And he wouldn’t have been so mad. No, he went to town and he didn’t get what he wanted.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Lets go find out.”

  They rode into town, turned their horses in at the livery, and split up.

  “I might as well go right now and find out if you’re right,” Fellows said.

  “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I think it’s time the mayor and I had a talk.”

  “Good luck.”

  They went their separate ways.

  As soon as Fellows entered the station, the sergeant at the desk said, “The chief’s lookin’ for you.”

  “Okay.”

  He went directly to the chief’s office, knocked on the door.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Coleman looked up from his desk. Behind him, through the window, Fellows could see horses and wagons going by.

  “Come in,” the chief said, “and close the door. We have things to discuss, Detective.”

  Clint walked right to City Hall, wondered if the mayor would see him, or if he’d have to burst in on the man. God, he hated politicians. Even the good ones weren’t trustworthy.

  He entered the building, found the door that said mayor’s office, and entered. A middle-aged woman seated at a desk looked up at him.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’d like to see the mayor.”

  “Your name?”

  “Clint Adams.”

  She looked at her desk.

  “You don’t have an appointment.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Sir, you need—”

  “Just tell him I’m here.”

  “Sir—”

  “Tell the mayor the Gunsmith is here to see him,” Clint said. “Don’t make me go in there and announce myself.”

  She stared at him a moment, then said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Patrick Bodeen was in here, asking me for your ass,” Coleman said.

  “Did you give it to him, sir?” the detective asked.

  “No, I did not,” Coleman said. “Then he threatened my ass.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I don’t like my ass being threatened, Detective,” Coleman said.

  “What did you tell him, sir?”

  “To get out of my office,” Coleman said.

  “I mean, about me.”

  “I told him I don’t fire men for doing their jobs,” Coleman said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now do you really think Bodeen is involved in this vandalism?”

  “Yes, sir,” Fellows said, “I believe it might escalate to assault, and maybe murder, before we’re done.”

  “Well then, Detective,” Coleman said, “I suggest you take your still employed ass out there, prove that he’s behind it, and stop him before it gets to that point. Understood?”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Fellows got to his feet and left the office.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The woman came out of the mayor’s office and said, “You can go in, sir.”

  “Thank you.” He started past her, then stopped and looked at her. “I didn’t mean to strong-arm—”

  “It doesn’t help, sir,” she said.

  Clint understood, and went into the mayor’s office.

  As Clint entered, the mayor heaved his bulk out of his chair and stood.

  “Mr. Adams,” he said. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I get you something?”r />
  “Yes,” Clint said, “but not the way you mean. Mayor, I need for Detective Fred Fellows not to lose his job. He was only doing—”

  “Relax, Mr. Adams,” the mayor said, sitting back down. “He’s not losing his job.”

  “And the chief?”

  The mayor shook his head.

  “Him, neither.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Clint said. “And…you?”

  “I’m going to be in office at least until the next election.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Bodeen was in here trying to flex his muscles, but he didn’t get his way.”

  “We passed him on the way in,” Clint said. “I suspected from his demeanor that he didn’t get what he wanted.”

  “Well now, I’d like to get what I want,” the mayor said. “I want to get that university built with no further problems.”

  “I think we all want that, Mr. Mayor.”

  “I’m not even sure what your connection to the matter is, Mr. Adams,” the mayor said, “but I suggest you go out there and do whatever it is you do to see that it happens.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clint said. “I just wanted to make sure that Mr. Fitzgerald had your complete support.”

  “We hired him to see that it’s built,” the mayor said. “That’s what I want him to do.”

  Clint sat there, studying the mayor.

  “You’re wondering if I’m involved,” the politician said. “If, for some reason, I don’t want the university built.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “And? What’s your decision?”

  “I think you’re clean.”

  “Why, thank you for that. I’d hate for you to think I’m a liar.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “you are a politician, after all.”

  The mayor chuckled briefly, then seemed to grow uncomfortable.

  “I’ll tell Mr. Fitzgerald he still has your blessing,” Clint said finally, “and your support.”

  “Yes,” Mayor Darling said, “do that.”

  Clint nodded, got up, and left.

  Steve Taylor came into the shack with the five men he’d chosen to be on watch.

  “Fitz, these are—”

  “I don’t need to be introduced,” Fitz said. “Have you given them their shifts?”

  “I have.” Taylor assumed Fitz didn’t need to be introduced to the men because he knew their names. In truth, Fitz had no idea what their names were, and didn’t care. He just wanted them on watch.