Robert B. Parker's Blackjack (12 page)

W
here?”

“El Paso.”

“Damn, Virgil,” Allie said.

“Yep,” Virgil said.

“No,” she said. “Is this necessary?”

“What?”

“You sure do know how to spoil a good time,” she said.

“How’s that?”

“Everett and I have been doing just fine, drinking this lovely beer that come all the way from Saint Louis, and now this business of being caught.”

“Hell, Allie,” Virgil said. “Everett and me spent a good goddamn amount of time searching for him, and the fact he has been caught has significant meaning here.”

“That does not mean we have to bring it up on a pleasant Wednesday afternoon, does it?”

“I know I don’t need to tell you this, Allie, but in the process of chasing that sonofabitch, we lost one of our friends, a friend of yours, too.”

“No, you do not need to tell me, I know,” she said. “I miss Skinny Jack, too, I do.”

“I know you do,” he said.

“But I still don’t think this is right,” Allie said.

“What?” Virgil said.

“That Boston Bill Black did this heinous crime he is accused of,” she said. “I told you that before.”

“And like I said before, Allie. That will be up to the judge to decide.”

“Oh, the judge. There is always a judge. I thought it was a foregone conclusion the other man, the fella from Denver, was the one that was the murderer.”

“There is still a warrant and a bounty on Black’s head, Allie.”

Allie got up out of her chair and filled her glass with beer.

“I’m gonna go make supper.”

She looked at me.

“Thank you, Everett,” she said. “It was so lovely to spend some pleasant time with you.”

“You too, Allie.”

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said.

Then she went into the house. I watched after her as she walked back into the house and rounded the corner into the kitchen.

“Heard something from S.Q. just before I came over here today,” I said. “We know S.Q. is going around the bend, getting more forgetful and a bit slower every day, but he told me Messenger spoke to him the day he was shot and that Messenger told him in a sober moment that he had come to town to arrest the man that killed his wife.”

Virgil looked at me for a long bit, then shook his head a little.

“The Denver detective that come here, Banes. He thought differently,” Virgil said. “Thought it could have been Roger Messenger that murdered his wife.”

“I know,” I said.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Virgil said.

“Who caught Black?” I said.

“A bounty hunter,” Virgil said.

“They sure it’s him?”

“So it seems.”

“I’ll be damned,” I said.

“Yup.”

“When did this happen?”

“Today, I think,” Virgil said.

“Now what?”

“He’s being brought back here.”

“To Appaloosa?”

“Yep.”

“Not Denver?”

“No,” Virgil said. “He’s gonna be tried here.”

“But the murder was in Denver.”

“According to the Denver DA, Black was here, hired a gunman here, fled from here, and was involved in a crime here that left a Denver policeman dead.”

“He’s not charged with that shooting, Truitt is.”

Virgil shook his head.

“I know, but Denver DA said since Judge Callison is coming through, dealing with Truitt, and this crime happened here, they’d deal with Boston Bill then, too.”

“How will they do that, the fact that Ruth Ann Messenger’s murder happened in Denver and the potential witnesses and such are in Denver, you’d think they would want him, need him back there to stand trial?”

“Could be the profile of the case gives Denver an opportunity to
get it out of their backyard. Maybe it has to do with the fact of what this is all about, the nature of it.”

“You mean, seeing how this has to do with the fact the son of the police chief was married to a woman running around flaunting her goods with an itinerant gambler, they don’t want to make this any more public than they have to?”

“Don’t know,” Virgil said, “but I would suspect that is right. They are taking this opportunity to keep Black out of the chief’s path . . . All this business was happening over the wire between El Paso, Appaloosa, and Denver these last few hours, and I think suppertime crept up and nipped it. Anyway, that was that.”

“I’ll be damned,” I said. “And if he’s convicted, what then?”

“Don’t know. Figured they’d let him get shipped here and go from there, let Black fend for himself,” Virgil said. “Last bit back from Denver said they are sending in a reception team to deal with this.”

“Another unit?”

“Sounds like it,” Virgil said. “Bounty hunter left a demand, too, that stated if the three thousand was not available with the return of Boston Bill Black, he would let Black go free.”

“When will Black get here?”

“According to the El Paso sheriff’s office, he would have already been here, but Mr. Black needed a day to heal up.”

“What happened?”

“Seems there was some altercation that happened and Black was knocked around a bit. Office said they’d be here within a few days.”

“Who’s bringing him in, who’s the bounty hunter?”

“Don’t know,” Virgil said.

A
fter two days there was no sign yet of Boston Bill Black or the bounty hunter, but both the Denver authorities and Judge Callison had arrived and were awaiting Black’s arrival.

Early evening, as the sun was going down, Virgil and I walked over to the Colcord Hotel to have a talk with the Denver authorities.

We met them in the dining room as they were getting up from a table near the back door. They were the Denver district attorney, Eldon Payne, and the captain of police, G. W. McPherson.

Both men looked to be in their mid-sixties. Payne was a slender, solid-looking man with deep-set eyes and dark skin. He wore a dark gray suit with his bowler tilted back on his forehead. McPherson was a big, rough-looking, ruddy-faced Irishman with silver-red hair and wearing a blue police uniform with gold buttons and tall boots in need of polishing.

After our introductions, Virgil and I walked out on the back porch with them, where they lit cigars.

“It will be about time to put an end to this,” McPherson said.

“Yes,” Payne said. “Good he was apprehended.”

“We don’t have to tell you two why we are here and why we are not bringing Bill Black to Denver,” McPherson said.

Virgil glanced at me, then looked back to Payne.

“You don’t have to,” Virgil said.

“Yeah,” McPherson said. “The sensitive damn nature of this, the political backlash, you understand? So the fact that Black was involved in an altercation that put him on the run with other criminals was in some ways a blessing in disguise.”

Virgil nodded.

“It would be harmful for the chief and his family,” Payne said. “Newspapers have already brought a great deal of grief to the chief and his wife.”

“And the department,” McPherson said.

Virgil nodded a little as he puffed on his cigar.

“I take it you have plenty of evidence that supports this warrant on Bill Black?” he said.

“We do,” McPherson said.

Payne looked to McPherson.

“Enough for this to go to trial?” I said.

“We do,” McPherson said.

“You think?” Virgil said.

“Why do you ask?”

“Callison is a fair judge,” I said.

Payne nodded.

“I know,” he said.

“You don’t have it, he’s likely to call bullshit on it,” Virgil said. “He’s not one for hearsay.”

“From what we heard, there were no eyewitnesses,” I said. “That correct?”

Payne looked to McPherson, then back to us, and nodded.

“That is correct,” Payne said. “But Ruth Ann Messenger was killed in the Platte River woods, where Black was boarding. There was blood found on the back steps.”

“The owners of the inn heard them arguing,” McPherson said.

“This much we heard,” I said.

“Then,” McPherson said, “the next thing you know, she’s gone missing . . .”

“That might be enough for a warrant,” Virgil said.

“And to squeeze out a bounty,” I said.

“But you are gonna be hard-pressed to get a conviction with that,” Virgil said.

I looked to Payne.

“You’d have to figure that, don’t you?” I said. “You know better than we do, that is your business, but you are going to have to spin a silky web with that.”

“Black taking off, on the run, does not bode well for his defense,” McPherson said.

“Might not bode well for him, but it damn sure don’t hinder him, either,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“He hired gunmen when there was money on his head,” McPherson said.

“That don’t hinder him, either,” Virgil said. “If anything, that helps him.”

“How’s that?” McPherson said.

“He was in fear for his life,” Virgil said. “Three thousand dollars dead or alive is one shot away from dying.”

“And what about Black’s defense?” I said.

“He’ll have to hire a lawyer here or have the court appoint him a lawyer.”

“If it is a conviction you are after,” Virgil said, “you just might
want to take this back to Denver and face whatever backlash comes about as a result.”

“We will remain here, Marshal Cole, and see to it justice is served,” Payne said. “At least for now.”

Virgil puffed on his cigar for a moment, then said, “What about the money?”

“The reward, you mean?” McPherson said.

“I do.”

“Once we have him in custody and safely behind bars we will have the money wired to the First Appaloosa Bank and Trust.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Virgil said.

“Fair amount,” Payne said.

“And then some,” Virgil said.

Virgil looked out over the porch railing to a tall lamp at the bottom of the steps that was being lit by a young black fella wearing a dark suit that was too short for his long legs. He puffed on his cigar for a bit, then turned back to Payne and McPherson.

“What about other suspects?” Virgil said.

“Like who?” McPherson said.

“Roger Messenger,” Virgil said.

Payne looked to McPherson, McPherson looked to Payne, and they both shook their heads.

“What about him?” McPherson said.

“What are you alluding to?” Payne said.

“Not alluding to anything at all,” Virgil said. “I have no alluding to offer whatsoever, but your fellow officer, Lieutenant Detective Banes, had suspicion Roger Messenger might be the killer.”

Payne and McPherson shared a look with each other, then McPherson shook his head.

“Well, Banes does not know what he’s talking about,” McPherson said.

“So you don’t think Roger could have done it?”

“No,” McPherson said. “I do not and he did not.”

“You know that for a fact?” Virgil said.

“I do.”

“So there is other evidence?” Virgil said.

“Bill Black murdered Ruth Ann Messenger, and that will be proven in court.”

“What makes you so sure?” Virgil said. “From what you have told us, it’s no coffin nail.”

“We
feel
certain we have the evidence for a conviction, Marshal,” Payne said.

Virgil nodded a little with the cigar wedged in the corner of his mouth. Then he removed his cigar and looked at it in his hand. He rolled it between his fingers and thumb.

“One thing you can be guaranteed about Judge Callison . . .” Virgil said.

“What’s that?” McPherson said.

“He will take the feeling out of it,” Virgil said.

W
hen Virgil and I were leaving the hotel, the door opened and Hollis Pritchard entered, followed by the pretty woman I saw on the street with the parasol.

“Marshal, Deputy,” Pritchard said. “I just heard—”

“Why, Mr. Pritchard,” the woman said, interrupting him as she moved up beside him like an assured chess move and looked at Virgil, then at me.

“Please don’t forget your manners, sir,” she said.

She was not as young as I thought when I saw her on the street, but now, seeing her close up, she was even prettier. She had sharp, high cheekbones and large, brown knowing and soulful eyes.

I removed my hat. Virgil tipped his.

Pritchard looked to her and introduced her to us as a courtesy, but it was obvious he was not completely accommodating to the gesture.

“This is . . . Miss Angel,” Pritchard said, “our company . . . bookkeeper.”

She moved a little closer and curtseyed a little. Her skin had a porcelain depth to it, unblemished of freckles, and her lips were full.
Her neck was long and slender and the satin dress she wore was open and revealed just a hint of her collarbones.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

Virgil grinned a little.

“Likewise,” I said.

“I have heard about the two of you.”

“All good, I imagine?” I said.

She smiled, and it was a warm smile full of confidence and assurance.

“And it’s Daphne,” she said, glancing back to Pritchard. “Daphne Angel.”

“Daphne,” Virgil said with a bashful-like smile.

“Daphne,” I said.

I nodded to Pritchard.

“The name of your new establishment.”

“And I’m flattered,” she said.

“Yes, saw the sign,” I said. “I believe I saw you as well the other day out on the boardwalk.”

“I believe you most certainly did,” she said. “It was a hot one that day.”

“It was,” I said. “I think I lost ten pounds from all the sweat that day.”

She laughed, and it pricked Pritchard’s impatience.

“Welcome to Appaloosa,” I said.

Pritchard was clearly annoyed and anxious, but she didn’t seem to care and neither did Virgil or me, especially me.

“Thank you,” she said.

“So I just heard,” Pritchard said, interrupting in a huff. “Tell me, is it true?”

“What’s that?” Virgil said.

“I understand Bill Black has been arrested?”

Virgil glanced to me.

“Where’d you get that understanding?” Virgil said.

“Charles told me. He said he overheard two Western Union operators talking about it. Is it true?”

“No.”

“But why would Charles overhear such a thing?”

“Bill Black has been apprehended,” Virgil said. “Not arrested.”

“Arrested, apprehended, my God,” Pritchard said. “Where is he, for God’s sake?”

“Mr. Pritchard would like to see him,” Daphne said.

Virgil looked to her.

“He’s not here,” Virgil said.

“Where?” Pritchard asked.

“He’s en route.”

“We’d like to help,” she said. “I know Mr. Pritchard is seriously concerned for him and, well, me, too. I know him very well. We know him as a good man. I have worked with him for some time . . . he’s our friend and we’d like to do what we can . . . Do you have any idea when he will arrive?”

“We are expecting him anytime now,” Virgil said. “Providing there are no hiccups.”

“Hiccups?” Daphne said. “Is he all right?”

“I believe he is,” Virgil said.

“What will happen now?” Pritchard said.

“Well, he’ll be arrested.”

“Then what?” Daphne said.

“Then there will be a preliminary hearing . . . He’ll face the judge for the charges the warrant was issued for,” Virgil said. “And, providing the judge feels the evidence is substantial enough, he will stand trial for the charges of the murder.”

Pritchard shook his head.

“What can we do to help him?” Daphne said.

“Don’t know there is anything you can do,” Virgil said.

“He’s going to need an attorney,” Daphne said. “Correct?”

Virgil nodded.

“That be a good idea,” Virgil said. “Not mandatory, but a good idea.”

“When will his hearing to face the judge take place?”

Virgil said, “The judge is here now, so like I said, providing there are no hiccups, it will take place as soon as he arrives.”

“Who is the best attorney in Appaloosa?” she said.

Virgil looked to me.

“Dickie Simmons?” Virgil said. “Or Juniper?”

“Juniper Jones,” I said. “When he’s sober.”

“Where would we find them?” Pritchard said.

“They are not hard to find,” Virgil said.

“They both have offices here in town,” I said. “Like Virgil said, this will happen quick, so you might want to find that lawyer right away.”

Pritchard nodded.

“Good,” he said, then looked to Daphne.

“Shall we?” Pritchard said. “I’m starving.”

Daphne smiled at Virgil and me.

“Thank you,” she said. “And it was certainly nice to meet the two of you.”

“Same,” we said.

They moved on and Virgil walked out the front door. I turned, watching her as she walked with Pritchard to the dining room. Just before she got through the dining room door she looked back at me and smiled.