“Towne’s plenty sore,” Dyer told him. “He figures it won’t do him a damned bit of good to have someone like you jump to his defense.”

Shayne looked surprised. “He ought to be glad to have an autopsy. If we can find a few shreds of evidence pointing to a bad heart, or to a prior attack of some sort-”

“That’s exactly what he doesn’t want,” Dyer exploded. “Don’t you see the position he’s in, Shayne, with the Free Press riding him, and warning people to expect you to pull a fast one? If the autopsy does show anything like that, no one will believe it. Towne figures it would be a lot better to let it ride as a straight traffic accident. He’s legally in the clear on it that way. All the evidence indicates that he was driving slowly and the soldier either fell or threw himself under his car. He stopped immediately and gave first aid and reported the accident.”

Shayne shrugged, and leaned back to cross one long leg over the other. “Jeff Towne has changed a lot during the past ten years if he won’t pay out money for a cover-up.”

“He hasn’t changed, if you mean developing a conscience or something like that. A traffic accident can happen to anyone. It’ll lose him a few votes, but people will think more of him if he squarely accepts the blame without trying to weasel out of it on a technicality.”

“So he halted the autopsy?”

Dyer looked at him in surprise. “Did I say that? Towne doesn’t run this department — yet. Doc Thompson’s report should be ready any moment.”

“How do you stand on the election?”

“The police department isn’t in politics,” Dyer told him. “Towne has the backing of the Reform Group, and Honest John Carter is backed by the Free Press. That ought to give you an idea.”

Shayne lit a cigarette. “Towne might make El Paso a good mayor,” he mused. “He’s got enough money so graft won’t interest him. He’s honest enough — in his own peculiar way.”