He was bulky, a little fat and wore a greenish suit and a wide black hat with the brim curled in cowboy style. He introduced himself as Jim Lovell, the chief of police, and asked if they couldn't go where they could talk.
Bender asked him what was the matter with right here and the chief said he'd rather not.
“All right, then,” said Bender; “we'll go to my room.”
They went upstairs and Jim Lovell sat down and made himself comfortable and asked him bluntly if he didn't know he was violating all ethics by not reporting to the chief of police.
Just as bluntly Bender told him he wasn't a damn bit interested in ethics.
“I know,” Lovell said, “but just the same I'm the chief here even
if you are a Ranger. I might be able to help you.”
“I don't need any help,” Bender said. “A job like this is a cinch for me.”
“Cinch huh?” Lovell drawled, lifting his eyes.
“Yeah—a cinch.”