“Then put somebody better on the job,” Landry said. “And do it fast!”
“Yes, sir,” Stokes said. “I’ll see to it.”
As Stokes left the office, the chief sat down and covered his face with both hands. Any moment now he expected to get a message from the mayor, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
* * *
“Did you see this?” the mayor asked Ned Beaumont. He was upset, but covered it up a lot better than Chief Landry did.
“I did,” Beaumont said.
“This young fella is looking to get himself killed.”
“I think he’s depending on the Gunsmith to keep that from happening, Mayor.”
“Well, he better hope he’s putting his trust in the right man,” Mayor Stanley said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get word to the chief that I want to see him,” the mayor said. “Now.”
“I’ll see to it now, Mayor,” Beaumont said, and left the office.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Clint and Temple were in Pete Tanner’s office, all making use of the editor’s coffeepot.
“So what do I do now?” Temple asked Clint. “Just walk around and wait for him to kill me?”
“Not quite,” Clint said, “but we are going to want you to be visible.”
“So then he goes to saloons? Cafés?” Tanner asked.
“Well,” Clint said, “first I have a feeling we’ll be going to either City Hall or the police station.”
“Ah, yes,” Tanner said. “There are a couple of gentlemen who aren’t gonna be very happy—and even less so tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Clint said, “you should go and see them first, Mr. Tanner.”
“For a statement,” Tanner said, sitting up straight. “Now that the article is out there.”
“Right.”
“That’s normally what I’d do after one of my pieces appears,” Temple said.
“No,” Clint said, “not until we find out what kind of mood they’re in.”
“And that’s my job,” Tanner said, standing up.
“I would suggest you don’t rub it in,” Clint said. “Just get a statement.”
“Not rub it in?” Tanner asked. “Are you kidding? Any chance I get to make the mayor look bad is a godsend. Don’t worry about me. I can handle politicians.” He grabbed a notebook. “I’ll see you fellas later!”
As Tanner almost ran from the room, Clint said, “Wow, he’s eager.”
“What’s he going to do when tomorrow’s piece comes out, I wonder,” Temple said.
* * *
Chief Landry entered the mayor’s office, hoping he’d be able to hold his temper. He wasn’t looking to get fired from another job.
“Have a seat, W.T.,” Stanley said.
Landry sat down, eyeing the mayor warily.
“So tell me,” Stanley asked, “are you as lost as the newspaper says you are?”
Landry’s face turned beet red, and yet he still fought to hold his temper. But before he could answer, the mayor continued.
“Because I’d hate to think so, W.T.,” he said. “I’d really hate to think so.”
“Mayor,” Landry said, “we’re not lost. We are using every asset available to us, including this reporter and Clint Adams. This killer is as good as caught.”
“I want him caught, tried,” the mayor said, “and hanged here.”
“Well,” the chief said, “I can catch him, but for the rest, you’re going to need a judge.”
“Don’t worry,” Stanley said, “I have a judge.”
“Then I should get on with my job.”
“Yes, you should,” the mayor said.
The chief stood up.
“If anyone wants to talk about this—the reporter, or Tanner, or Adams, or anyone else—refer them to me. Don’t talk to anyone. Just do the job.”
“All right, Mayor.”
“When you pass Beaumont’s office, tell him I want to see him.”
“I will.”
Stanley waved him away.
* * *
As the chief came to the district attorney’s office, he stopped and thought a moment before entering. The man’s secretary was not at her desk, so he bypassed it and went to the inner office. He knocked and entered.
“Chief!” Beaumont said. “Come on in.”
Beaumont’s desk was almost as large as the mayor’s, but his office was smaller.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No,” the chief said. “I just came from seeing the mayor. He wants to see you.”
“Of course he does,” Beaumont said. “He always wants to see me.”
“Well, before you go,” Landry said, “we should talk.”
“Have a seat.”
The chief sat. “Have you made up your mind?” he asked. “About running against him, I mean?”
“I have,” Beaumont said. “I don’t think I have much choice.”
“Good.”
“Have you heard of anyone else willing to run?”
“No.”
“That’s good. What did the mayor want with you?”
“He’s upset about the article in the newspaper.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He wants the killer convicted and hanged here in Abilene. He’ll need a judge for that.”
“He has a judge,” Beaumont said. “In fact, he has more than one. So all that needs to be done is to catch the killer.”
“My job,” Landry said. “I know that. What I want to know is, after you’re mayor, will I still have that job?”
Beaumont sat back in his chair and regarded the man.
“Do you know anyone better for the job?”
“No.”
“Then that’s your answer.”
The chief nodded, and left.
* * *
Beaumont walked to the mayor’s office. Mayor Stanley’s rule was almost over, and his was still to start. But first they had to get past this problem. This one man who’d strangled one girl in Abilene had to be caught before he could strike again. For that he felt sure they had to depend on the Gunsmith. He would have to have a meeting with Clint Adams soon, without the mayor knowing about it.
But first he had to act like the loyal second in command. He opened the door and went inside.
TWENTY-NINE
Tanner heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Clint Adams coming toward him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I decided I should come with you.”
“And Temple?”
“He’s going to stay in your offices,” Clint said. “He has a gun. He should be safe.”
“I hope so.”
“This won’t take long,” Clint said. “Let’s go see what kind of mood the administration is in.”
* * *
At the police station they were told by the sergeant at the front desk that the chief was unavailable to talk to Mr. Tanner.
“He authorized me to say one thing to you,” the sergeant said.
“What’s that?” Tanner asked, getting ready to write it down.
The sergeant leaned forward and said slowly, “No . . . comment.”
* * *
They left the police station and went to City Hall, where they got a better reception.
“Mr. Tanner,” Ned Beaumont said when he spotted them in the hall. “Mr. Adams. Welcome.” He was on his way back from the mayor’s office.
“Mr. Beaumont,” Pete Tanner said. “I was hoping to get a statement from the mayor about the story that’s in today’s paper.”
“Yes, I’m sure you were,” Beaumont replied, “but I think before you try to do that, we should go to my office and have a talk.”
Tanner looked at Clint, who nodded.
&
nbsp; “Good,” Beaumont said. “Come with me.”
He led the way to his office. There was still no secretary there. In point of fact, his secretary had left several days earlier to get married, and he had not yet been able to replace her.
“Please,” he said inside his office, “have a seat, both of you.”
They sat down as he went around behind his desk and did the same.
“What’s on your mind, Mr. Beaumont?” Clint asked.
“We haven’t sat down together since we played poker, Clint,” Beaumont said. “You can call me Ned, though.”
“Okay, Ned. What’s this about?”
Beaumont looked at Tanner and said, “What I tell you now is off the record.”
“Okay.”
He addressed them both.
“The mayor is on his way out,” he said. “I’m going to run against him in the next election.”
“When is that?” Clint asked.
“Three months.”
“You’ll have to declare soon, and start campaigning,” Tanner said.
“I know.”
“What’s that got to do with what’s going on now?” Clint asked.
“I’ll need help,” Beaumont said. “Yours,” he said to Clint, then looked at Tanner, “and your new reporter’s.”
Clint and Tanner exchanged a glance.
“What is it?” Beaumont asked, noticing something pass between the two.
“I think you’ll be real interested in tomorrow’s edition,” Clint said.
THIRTY
Beaumont showed Clint and Tanner the way to the mayor’s office.
“Wait out here,” he said, and went inside.
The mayor looked up and said, “Back so soon?”
“Clint Adams is in the hall with Pete Tanner.”
“Tanner! That bastard!”
“He wants a statement from you about the piece in today’s paper.”
Mayor Stanley’s face turned red.
“Bring him in. I’ll give him a statement.”
Beaumont leaned on the desk.
“Mayor, calm down. It won’t do any good to go off half-cocked. Not with an election around the corner.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right, damn it,” Stanley said. He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. “All right, let them in.”
“Do you want me to come in with them?”
“No, no,” Stanley said, “you’ve done enough, Ned. Just send them in and go back to your office.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Beaumont came out of the mayor’s office and joined Clint and Tanner in the hall.
“Okay, he’s ready,” he said. “I got him calmed down, but he could go crazy at any minute and start yelling. When he does that, there’s no talking to him.”
“Is he armed?” Clint asked.
“Only with a bad temper.”
“Okay, then,” Clint said, looking at Tanner, “let’s go in.”
They opened the door and entered.
* * *
By the time Clint Adams and Pete Tanner entered his office, Mayor Stanley had his temper under control—or so he thought. His temper was one of the things he had in common with Chief Landry—it was their previous acquaintance that had influenced him to hire the man, in spite of his checkered past.
He knew Landry struggled with his temper, just as he did, and now Stanley’s temper flared as he saw Pete Tanner enter. He made a concerted effort to calm down again.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “what can I do for you?”
* * *
The killer had an idea.
He had read the story in the newspaper while having breakfast in a small café. He set the paper aside to finish his food, and think. At that moment a young waitress came by with a pot of coffee.
“More coffee?”
“Please.”
She refilled his cup, smiled at him, and walked away.
He wanted to kill her.
But he had a better idea.
Yes, he needed to kill a girl, but not this one. He had another in mind.
With Clint Adams and the reporter, Temple, in town to find him, it would be a daring thing to kill again. They were probably hoping to catch him before he struck again. Killing again now would be a slap in the face to them.
And to the Abilene police, and government.
It was too tempting to ignore.
He sipped his coffee and looked out the window at the dress shop across the street.
He had an idea.
* * *
“A comment,” the mayor said.
“Yes,” Tanner said.
“You want a comment from me on the piece in today’s newspaper.”
“That’s right.”
“Very well,” the man said, taking a deep breath. Clint wondered if he was going to start yelling, but when he spoke, his voice was perfectly under control. “I think it was monumentally improper and careless. I can see why Mr. Temple got himself in trouble in Boston.”
“But more than anything else, Mr. Temple has made himself a target,” Tanner said. “What do you think of that?”
The mayor leaned forward.
“What makes you think the killer will try for him?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s smart enough to see it as a trap?”
“I think he’ll see Mr. Temple as the only man who can lead to his capture,” Tanner said.
“By making us—my police—look foolish.”
“Well . . .” Tanner said, aware that the piece in the next day’s newspaper was even worse.
“Mr. Adams?” the mayor said. “What are your thoughts?”
“I did think the killer would go after Mr. Temple when he saw the newspaper,” Clint said.
“What’s changed your mind?”
“Apparently Temple doesn’t know as much about him as I thought.”
“If that’s true,” the mayor said, “then he won’t go after him.”
“No,” Clint said, suddenly having a thought, “but he might do something else.”
“Like what?” the mayor asked.
“He might make us all look bad,” Clint said, “and strike again.”
THIRTY-ONE
Clint and Tanner stopped just outside City Hall.
“That’s a desperate man,” Tanner said.
“Are you going to write that in your paper?”
“I’m going to wait and see what happens when tomorrow’s edition comes out.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I’m going back to my office.”
“Okay, I’ll walk with you,” Clint said. “I want to make sure Temple didn’t go anywhere.”
They started walking.
“You think he’s foolish enough to go anywhere without you?” Tanner asked.
“I hope not.”
“Mr. Adams!”
Clint stopped and turned, saw Detective Stokes coming across the street toward him.
“Go ahead,” he told Tanner. “I’ll be there after I talk to Detective Stokes.”
“Okay,” Tanner said. “I’ll tell Temple you’ll be along.”
“Right.”
“That is, unless I can sit in on this little talk—”
“I don’t think so, Pete.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Tanner walked on as Stokes reached Clint.
“Can we talk?”
“Here?”
Stokes looked around. There was a small saloon right across the street.
“How about there?”
“Isn’t it a little early for beer?” Clint asked.
“It’s never too early for beer,” Stokes said.
“Okay, let’s go.”
* * *
>
They were the only two men in the saloon, leaning on the bar with a beer in front of each of them. The bartender had served them and then moved to the other end of the bar. Clint had a feeling the man knew who Stokes was. He hadn’t asked for any money for the beers.
“What’s on your mind, Detective?” Clint asked. “I suppose you read the newspaper today.”
“I did,” Stokes said. “I thought it was really funny.”
“Funny?”
“He made the mayor and the chief look foolish,” Stokes said. “Hell yeah, that’s funny.”
“You think that was funny, wait until you see tomorrow’s edition.”
“I can’t wait,” Stokes said, “but that’s not what I’m here about.”
“Oh,” Clint said. “Then maybe you want to talk to me about those two idiots you had following me and Harry Temple.”
“They were there for your protection.”
“They were there to be seen, Detective.”
“Well, yeah . . .”
“Why?”
“I wanted you to know that the chief doesn’t trust you,” Stokes said. “He wanted you watched. He told me to put my best men on it.”
“So you picked those two, so I’d see them.”
“Guilty.”
“Well,” Clint said, “I don’t see them this morning.”
“I sent them back to their regular jobs.”
“And did you assign two more men?” Clint asked. “Men so good at their jobs that I haven’t seen them . . . yet?”
“No,” Stokes said, “not yet.”
“Well, do me a favor and get it done.”
“You mean you want me to have someone watch you?” Stokes asked.
“I need to have Temple protected.”
“And here I thought that’s what you were doing,” the detective said.
“It’s not always a one-man job, Detective.”
“What did the mayor have to say?”
“He’s not happy,” Clint answered.
“No, he’s not,” Stokes said. “He made that very clear to the chief.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because when the mayor yells at the chief,” Stokes said, “the chief yells at me. Wants to know why I haven’t caught this killer yet.”
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