Deadly Election (9781101619223) (13 page)

He went back to his paperwork.

Carla started to sweat, not only from the warmth inside the closet, but from the fear she was feeling. She tried to wrap herself up into as small a ball as possible, and listened intently.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

*   *   *

Clint looked around the car, trying to find cover. There was none. If he hid behind the sofa, he’d be safe from one side, but not the other. He decided to turn the two armchairs to face each other, then crouched down between them.

And waited.

Castle led two men onto the rear platform of the train. Carefully, he turned the doorknob and opened the door. It didn’t make a sound. They slipped inside, found themselves in a room with a large bed.

“Where are they?” one man asked.

“Further on,” Castle said. “Just be quiet.”

Castle drew his gun, and the other two men did the same. They began to move through the car.

Will Gryder grew nervous, set his papers aside, and stood up. Instead of pacing, he decided to go back and see what Clint Adams was up to. Besides, he needed a drink.

George led the way onto the train, stopped just in front of the door to the car. He put his ear to the door and listened.

“Hear anythin’?” the other man asked.

“Quiet!” George hissed.

At the moment the door to the adjoining car opened and Will Gryder appeared. When he saw the two armed men, he said, “What the hell—”

George turned quickly and hit him in the face with the butt of his gun. Gryder flew back into the car and slumped to the floor.

“Damn it!” George swore. He turned to the door, opened it, and rushed in.

Clint heard the noise outside the door and saw it open. Two men came running in, guns in their hands. Clint had never seen them before, but didn’t have time to dwell on that.

They began to fire as soon as they saw him. Their bullets slammed into the back of the stuffed armchair.

Clint fired.

Heck saw the two men climb onto the car, and he raced forward. He was in time to see them strike Will Gryder and then burst into the car. As he climbed aboard, he heard the volley of shots from inside. He rushed in with his gun in his hand.

Clint held his fire as Heck Thomas charged into the car.

“Whoa!” Heck said.

“You’re a little late.”

“I saw shadows outside,” Heck said. He looked down at the two dead men on the floor. “I think there are more.”

“Three more,” Castle said.

Clint and Heck froze. They saw that they were covered by three guns.

“You fellas are in a jam,” Castle said. “Drop your guns.”

Clint and Heck released their guns, which dropped to their feet.

Castle was unsure about what to do. The orders were not to kill the lawman, but if they killed Adams right in front of him…

At that moment a voice from behind them said, “Now you three are covered.”

Castle turned, saw a single man standing with a gun.

“One man against three?” Castle asked.

“The way I see it,” the new man said, “it’s three against three.”

Castle and the two men looked around nervously. Clint could tell what was about to happen, and dove for his gun, followed by Heck.

The room became filled with gun smoke and flying lead, and then was quiet…

Five men lay dead on the floor.

Clint looked at the man who had come in behind the three.

“Thanks, friend.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ve been followin’ these jaspers for a while. There’s another one waitin’ just outside the yard, with horses.”

“I guess we better go and get him.”

“No hurry,” Henry Chapman said. “He ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Where’s Carla?” Heck asked.

“She’s in the closet—” Clint looked over and saw a couple of holes in the door. “Carla!”

He ran to the door and opened it. Carla was curled up into a ball on the floor. She looked up at him and asked, “Is it over?”

“It’s not over,” Clint said.

They were back at his house in Austin. After dealing with the law in Waco, and getting Will Gryder’s broken nose looked at, they simply turned the train around and headed back.

Now it was the second morning after the shooting. Gryder’s nose was bandaged but he was still plowing through one of Mrs. Bigelow’s breakfasts.

Heck was sitting across the table from Clint. Carla was at Clint’s right.

“What’s not over?” Heck asked. “We got all six of them.”

“But we don’t know who they were working for.”

“Can’t the law ask the sixth man?” Heck asked.

“He doesn’t know,” Clint said. “According to him, only Andy George knew, and he caught my first bullet.”

“I don’t understand,” Will Gryder said, sounding as
if his nose was stuffed up—which it was, with cotton. “What are you talking about?”

Clint looked at Gryder. He hadn’t yet told him what he was really doing running for Congress. But he had sent a telegram to Washington the previous afternoon for Jeremy Pike, requesting permission to open up about it.

“I’ll tell you all about it later, Will,” Clint said. “Right now we just have to keep going the way we’ve been.”

“We missed some of our stops,” Gryder said, “but we’re set to go west this time.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clint said.

“The answer might be here in town,” Heck said.

“The answer to what?” Gryder asked.

“Yes,” Carla said, “to what?”

Clint looked at them both, was about to answer when they heard a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Carla wondered.

“Julius will get it,” Clint said.

Julius did get it, and brought a man into the dining room.

“Mr. Pike, sir,” he said.

Clint looked up, saw the Secret Service agent standing there.

“Jeremy,” Clint said, “just in time for breakfast.”

“Looks good,” Pike said, “but can we talk?”

“Sure.” Clint took his napkin from his lap and dropped it on the table. “Follow me.”

He led Pike to the living room, where they’d be alone, out of earshot of the others.

“What’s going on?” Clint asked. “You come to pull me out?”

“Not quite,” Jeremy said.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I was nearby when your telegram was relayed to me,” Pike said. “So I thought I’d stop by.”

“And?”

“See if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Clint said. “Five men aren’t. And there’s a sixth, but he doesn’t know anything.”

“Maybe I should talk to him,” Pike said, “since I’m here.”

“Jeremy, I want to tell Gryder what’s going on. I think the campaign has run its course for me.”

“Not until we find the leader,” Pike said. “Without him, they can start all over again.”

“We’re supposed to go on another whistle-stop tour in the next few days,” Clint said. “Maybe they can put together another crew by then.”

“All right,” Pike said. “Give me a few more days, Clint. Meanwhile, I’ll go and talk to the sixth man. Maybe he can tell me something we can use.”

“What about breakfast?”

“Maybe lunch?” Pike asked.

“Sure,” Clint said. “Come on back. You wouldn’t believe the cook they gave me.”

Back at the breakfast table Will Gryder announced, “I’ve got to go and see my doctor. I’ll be back later with our revised schedule.”

“Be careful,” Carla said.

Gryder froze, half out of his seat.

“You think someone is going to come after me?”

“No,” Clint said, “it’s pretty clear they were after me, Will. You go ahead.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Gryder went to the front door and out.

“What do we do?” Heck asked.

Clint looked around.

“What’s wrong?” Carla asked.

Clint spoke to Heck.

“You ever notice that Julius is never around, but always around?”

“I know what you mean,” Heck said.

“Well, I don’t,” Carla complained. “What’s going on?”

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Heck asked Clint.

“I’m thinking we should find our butler and talk to him,” Clint said.

“He’s supposed to have a room in the back,” Heck said. “I ain’t never been back there.”

“Neither have I. Let’s have a look.”

“Clint, what’s goin—”

“Just stay here, Carla,” Clint said. “I’ll explain when we get back.”

“But—”

Clint and Heck left the dining room, found a hallway that led to the back of the house. They tried a few doors before they found the right one.

“This looks like it,” Heck said.

They stepped inside. They knew it was Julius’s room because there was an extra suit hanging on a frame. The room was as neat as a pin, the bed made, not a speck of dust.

“What better place for someone to be positioned than inside the house?” Clint asked. “He knows everything.”

“Are you thinking he works for them, or he’s the leader?”

“Well,” Clint said, opening a drawer and looking inside, “I was thinking he was working for them, but what if he is the leader? The brains?”

“How did he get this job?” Heck asked.

“And why’s he so good at it?” Clint asked.

At that moment the door opened and Julius walked in. He stopped halfway, his hand on the doorknob.

“Sir?”

“Julius,” Clint said. “Just the man we’re looking for.”

“I don’t understand,” Julius said. “This is my room.”

“We know.”

“No one comes into my room,” Julius said, “ever!”

“Well, we’re sorry, Julius,” Clint said, “and if we’re wrong, we’ll apologize again.”

“But if we’re right…” Heck said.

“Right about what?” Julius asked. “I don’t understand.”

“How long have you been a butler, Julius?”

“Many years. I came here from England, where my family was always in service.”

That explained the proper way he spoke. Not really a British accent because it had probably worn away over the years.

“Julius,” Clint said, “you don’t have a gun in your room, do you?”

“A gun, sir?” the butler asked. “Why would I need a gun? See here, this is very improper.”

Clint and Heck exchanged a glance. If Julius was lying, he was very good at it. He seemed genuinely puzzled and disturbed to find them in his room.

“Maybe we’ve been mistaken,” Clint said.

“Yeah, maybe,” Heck said.

“I believe you have,” Julius said, coming into the room and leaving the door open. “Now if you would please leave, I shall have to clean this room all over again.”

Clint looked around. He and Heck hadn’t disturbed a thing.

“All right, then,” Clint said. “We’ll let you get to it.”

They left the room and closed the door behind them.

“If that man’s a liar,” Heck said, “he’s the best I’ve ever seen.”

They went back to the dining room. The table was still covered with plates and food, but Carla was gone.

“Now where could she have gone?” Clint wondered.

“Maybe upstairs to change?”

“Her curiosity was up,” Clint said. “Do you think she’d leave before satisfying it?”

“I’ll go upstairs and look,” Heck said. “You check down here.”

“All right, good idea.”

Heck left the dining room and Clint heard him going up the stairs. He decided to go into the kitchen to see if Mrs. Bigelow knew where Carla was.

As he opened the door, the first thing he saw was Carla, standing against a counter. Her eyes were wide with fright as she saw him.

The next thing he saw was Mrs. Bigelow, standing across from her.

The third thing he saw was the gun in her hand.

“Mrs. Bigelow?”

“Call me Lucy, hon,” the woman said. “Come on in.”

Clint stepped all the way into the kitchen, letting the swinging door close.

“What’s going on?” Clint asked.

“I think you know, lad,” the cook said.

It took him a moment, because it was so unbelievable.

“You?”

“Me.”

“What’s going on?” Carla asked, her voice trembling. “Somebody please tell me.”

“Apparently,” Clint said, “Mrs. Bigelow here works with a group who has been killing political candidates.”

“What?” Carla asked in disbelief.

“Not working for, hon,” Lucy Bigelow said.

“Wait a minute,” Clint said. “You’re the brains?”

“Now you’ve got it.”

“But…why?” Carla asked.

“Politicians are ruining this country, dearie,” she said. “We’re just trying to give it a chance again.”

“By committing murder?”

“We’re making a point,” she said.

“And now what?” Carla asked.

“Now another candidate dies, along with his pretty assistant.” She looked at Clint. “Drop your gun belt.”

“If I do that, you’ll kill me.”

“So?”

“I have a better chance trying to draw and fire before you can do that.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can,” Clint said. “You know my reputation.”

He saw doubt creep onto her face. Maybe she was sorry she had come out from behind her facade.

“She could get killed,” she said, indicating Carla.

“You’re going to kill her, too, anyway,” Clint said. “No, I’m going to take my chances, Lucy, so you better get ready to pull the trigger—although I don’t think you’ll make it.”

The woman bit her lips and fidgeted in place, then suddenly threw the gun down and raised her hands.

“All right, all right!” she snapped. “Don’t shoot.”

“Kick the gun across the room, please.”

She did as she was told, and Carla heaved a sigh of relief.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

“I will in a minute,” Clint said. “I just have one question for Mrs. Bigelow.”

“What’s that?” the woman asked.

“If you were out to kill me, why not just poison my food?”

“Ruin my food like that?” the woman cried, aghast.

“You have a point,” Clint replied, chuckling. “And I thank you for the fine meals.”

Now that he could finally drop out of the race, he realized he’d miss having a cook.

But this one wouldn’t be making meals where she was going.

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