Robert B. Parker's Blackjack (22 page)

L
aCroix?” Chastain said.

“Yep,” Virgil said.

Chastain shook his head and looked at me.

“Not seen him,” I said.

“Me, either,” Chastain said.

“Been over a week since Black put him in the hospital,” I said.

“Last time I laid eyes on him,” Chastain said, “was when he was carried out of the courtroom, flat on his back on a stretcher.”

“Could be long gone,” I said.

“I did talk with Doc Burris about him,” Chastain said. “Saw him at the café. He said LaCroix was pissing blood. But that was not long after he was there in the hospital. Even then the Doc said he thought he was going to be all right, would be moving on, just needed to recover, heal up and such, thought the pissing blood business would go away . . . why?”

“There is a chance he could still be here licking his wounds,” I said.

Chastain looked to me, then to Virgil.

“You think Black would go after LaCroix?” Chastain said.

“Might,” Virgil said.

Chastain nodded.

“Be dumb of him, though, don’t you think?” Chastain said. “To get out of jail and bother with him?”

“Maybe not,” Virgil said.

“He damn sure tried to kill him in the courtroom that day. Damn near beat that poor sumbitch within an inch of his life before we could pull him off.”

Virgil nodded.

“In court,” he said. “He did.”

Virgil looked at me.

Chastain looked back and forth between us and nodded a little.

“But now you don’t think so?” Chastain said.

“Don’t know,” Virgil said. “Black was damn sure mad enough to kill, no doubt about that. But now could be a different story.”

“Get to the crux,” I said.

“It’s his only chance,” Virgil said.

Chastain looked back and forth between Virgil and me again and shook his head.

“That guy, LaCroix. He seemed pretty straightforward convincing to me, Virgil,” Chastain said.

“He was calm,” I said.

“Until he was trying to crawdad backward to save his life,” Chastain said.

Virgil stood looking off down the street but didn’t say anything.

“LaCroix seemed solid to me,” Chastain said, “and though the judge was . . . I don’t know, kind of off goddamn kilter somewhat, I believe the jury and judge made the right decision.”

“There is that,” Virgil said.

“Let’s say he did lie about Black,” Chastain said. “Why? Why would he do that?”

“Don’t know,” Virgil said.

Chastain looked at the ground and nodded some.

“Something personal,” he said.

“Or somebody put him up to it,” I said. “One of the two.”

“Or not,” Virgil said.

“But that is your hunch?” Chastain said.

“Could be something to it,” Virgil said.

“Who?” Chastain said. “Why?”

“Cops, maybe,” I said.

“Why, though?” Chastain said. “Roger is dead and gone. Damn sure too late to clear him.”

I shook my head.

“Or someone just wanted to see Black fucking hang,” Chastain said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Though Black thought he was the only one that was having his way with Ruth Ann, there has been plenty of reason not to buy into that theory.”

Virgil nodded some.

“Let’s say it is the cops, I mean, it could be, I reckon,” Chastain said, “but why do you think it’d be so goddamn important to hang Black, just to clear the Messenger name.”

We thought about that for a moment, and then Chastain said, “You’re thinking Black could be innocent? Aren’t you?”

“Well, for the purposes of what I’m hunching here, it has to do with what
he
thinks,” Virgil said.

“Could make sense I guess that he’d go after LaCroix to prove he lied about what he saw,” Chastain said.

“Like you say, though, not sure he would go to that kind of trouble,” I said.

“But he could,” Chastain said with a shrug.

“An escapee always has a chance to move on, go elsewhere,” Virgil said, “but in the back of his mind there is always the constant threat he’s going to get caught or shot.”

“Hospital?” Chastain said.

Virgil nodded.

“Proof will be in the pudding,” Virgil said.

W
e left Book to hold down the office and walked over to the hospital. When we walked in we found Doc Burris right away. He was bent over and in the process of trying to find the right key to unlock his office door. He glanced up at us.

“Am I under arrest?” he said.

“Morning, Doc,” Virgil said.

“I suppose it is,” he said, thumbing through the keys in his hand. “I can never find the right damn key, though . . . oh, hold on, there it is.”

He unlocked and opened the office door, then looked over the top of his spectacles at us.

“You look like you want something.”

“Looking for the Englishman,” Virgil said. “Lawrence LaCroix.”

“He’s not here,” Doc said. “He was, of course, but he is no longer here. Why?”

“Any idea where he is?”

Doc shook his head

“He might have left,” he said. “Here. Appaloosa. He wanted to leave the moment he got here. He could not get out soon enough. He
was, however, in a lot of pain and it hurt for him to move, so he might still be here, I don’t know. He wanted to get out and I had no reason for him not to get out. Free country . . . He might be at his hotel. I don’t know.”

“Know what hotel?” Virgil said.

Doc shook his head

“No,” he said, “sorry, I have no idea . . . He walked out of here on a pair of crutches and I’ve not seen him since.”

“When was that?” I said.

Doc thought for a moment.

“Two days ago.”

“Anyone been here looking for him?” Virgil said.

“Nobody but you,” he said. “Might I ask, who or whom are you looking for?”

“Bill Black,” Virgil said frankly.

Doc stood up tall and looked at us over the top of his spectacles.

“Bill Black?” Doc said.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “He got out.”

“He escaped?”

Virgil nodded.

“And you believe he would come here?”

“Maybe?”

“To complete what he started?”

“Could be . . .” Virgil said. “Who’s been working here this morning? Anyone but you?”

Doc shook his head.

“We don’t have anyone staying here at the moment in need of night care, so no.”

“So nobody else?” Virgil said.

Doc shook his head.

“We have my two nurses that are here when they are needed, and
they work doing this and that when not needed, but they are not here. There is Buck, though. You know Buck, he keeps the place clean . . . opens up in the morning, closes, that sort of thing, but I’ve not seen him yet this morning . . . He’s here somewhere, though . . .”

Virgil nodded and looked to me.

“Let me see if I can find him,” Doc said. “Might be hauling trash, let me see . . .”

Doc turned and walked to the back of the lobby toward the rear of the building and called out the open door leading to the back section of the hospital.

“Buck,” Doc said.

He waited a few seconds and there was no answer, then Doc called out louder,
“Buck!”

Buck answered,
“Yes, sir.”

“Come here, will you. I want to ask you something.”

Doc turned and walked back toward us.

“Bill Black is out,” Doc said. “That is certainly one way to get a stay of execution.”

“For the moment,” Virgil said.

“I would ask you how he escaped, but I won’t,” Doc said. “I don’t imagine that is a topic worth discussing.”

We heard Buck coming up the hall. He was a big jovial ex-slave we all knew from working odd jobs around town. He came through the back door with a mop in his hand and stopped in his tracks when he saw us. He had that wide-eyed look of surprise that made me think he just might have thought we were looking for him.

“What is it?”

“You see anyone this morning when you opened up?” Doc said.

Buck looked at each of us in turn, then shook his head.

“No, sir,” he said. “I ain’t . . .”

Doc nodded, then looked to us.

“Sorry,” he said.

“But,” Buck said, “I can tell you this, there sure ’nough was someone here ’fore I got here this morning.”

“What?” Doc said.

“Sure ’nough,” Buck said, nodding.

“How do you know, Buck?” Virgil said.

“The back door was open,” he said.

“You sure you didn’t leave it unlocked last night?” Doc said.

Buck nodded and said, “I’m real sure . . . Someone got in the back door . . . there was dirt on the floor.”

“What?” Doc said.

“Yes, sir. When I got here, I come up the back steps back here, like I always do, and I got out my keys to open the door and it was wide open.”

“Who all has a key?” I said.

“Buck, Nurse Crain, and me,” Doc said.

“What about her?” Virgil said.

“She was here yesterday, but she for sure left before me,” Buck said.

“You sure?” Doc said.

Buck nodded.

“Nobody was here. She was gone and I locked it, Doc. Not sure how it was unlocked, but it was wide open, and there was, like I say . . . bits of dirt on the floor and on the stairs.”

“Anything missing?” Doc said.

“No, sir,” Buck said. “Not that I can tell.”

“Were there any windows left open?” Virgil said.

“No,” Buck said. “I do my routine when I leave here. Them windows all got locks on them and I lock ’em when we are gone, no matter how hot it is out.”

W
e had a quick look around the hospital to see if there was some kind of sign that would give us helpful information regarding the break-in, but found nothing that stuck out.

When we left the hospital, Chastain was the first out the door. He stopped on the top step, looking off down the street.

“Oh, shit . . .” he said. “Lookie here.”

“Here we go,” I said.

Marching up the street came the Denver contingent. Every one of them: Payne, Banes, King, McPherson, and they were being led by the chief of police. Brady Messenger.

“I don’t imagine they are none too happy,” I said.

“No,” Virgil said. “I don’t imagine, either.”

“News travels fast,” I said.

“The whole unit,” Chastain said.

“Damn sure is,” I said.

“Only a matter of time,” Virgil said.

We descended the stairs and turned in their direction. We walked toward them a ways, then stopped in the middle of the street in front
of a row of mining tool shops and waited for them to get to us. It was obvious the chief was agitated and intense as he strutted purposefully toward us.

“Ain’t that a sight,” Chastain said under his breath. “He looks like a lit’ ol’ Banty rooster.”

We waited as they neared, and when they were within conversation range Virgil tipped back his hat.

“Good morning,” Virgil said.

Chief Messenger waved at the salutation like he was shooing a fly in front of his nose.

“We just heard the goddamn news,” Chief Messenger said.

“What news?”

“How could you have let this . . . this fucking happen?” Chief Messenger said.

Virgil glanced at me, then looked back to Chief Messenger.

“What?” Virgil said.

“Don’t fuck around with me, Marshal Cole,” Chief Messenger said, holding up a bony finger. “I am not in the mood, nor am I ever someone you want to fuck with.”

Virgil smiled just a little, but did not respond right away. If he had feathers or the inclination to ruffle them, which he had neither of, this damn sure would have done it. But Virgil Cole was not a man that engaged in another man’s ignorance, disdain, or discord. Fact was, it was these kinds of ignoble instants, moments of another person’s righteous, self-obsessed importance, that made Virgil the noble man that he was.

“What news?” Virgil said.

“Goddamn it,” he said. “Bill Black escaping, of course.”

Virgil said nothing and all I could think about was what Valentine had told us about Messenger’s church life and how right now he seemed to be about as far from a pulpit pounder as you could find.

Chief Messenger looked behind us to the hospital.

“What were you doing there?” the chief said with a point. “Was he there at the . . . the hospital?”

“Why would Bill Black be at the hospital?” Virgil said.

“What?”

“Do you know?” Virgil said.

“What are you goddamn getting at?”

Virgil turned and looked to the hospital, then turned back to the chief.

“Simple question,” Virgil said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the chief said with his chest puffed up.

“What is it you are implying?” McPherson said.

“Not implying,” Virgil said. “I can rephrase the question, make it even simpler. Do any of you know why Bill Black would pay a visit to the hospital?”

“To . . . to finish what he started, of course,” Chief Messenger said. “Why else?”

“You tell me,” Virgil said.

“He’s a convicted murderer, Marshal,” Chief Messenger said.

Virgil looked to me and smiled a bit then looked back to the chief.

“In that case,” Virgil said, “it might be best you stay in your rooms and lock the doors.”

“What?”
Chief Messenger said with a snarl.

“I don’t think Bill Black is too pleased with any of you, and if he’s the killer you are convinced he is, it might be best to stay out of sight so you don’t get hurt.”

The chief’s face turned redder than it already was.

“We will do no such thing,” the chief said. “There is a killer on the loose, he got loose under your watch, and he will be fucking found this time under my watch and he will be hung.”

“Under your watch?” Virgil said.

“You heard me,” Chief Messenger said.

Virgil smiled.

“Be better than a good idea you don’t do anything stupid,” Virgil said.

“What?”
Chief Messenger said, jerking his head back as if he’d been slapped.

“Don’t want to find you or any of your men breaking the law,” Virgil said. “With all that is going on here, it’d be a real shame to have to arrest you . . . or them, or all of you.”

The little man moved a bit closer to Virgil.

“Don’t cross me, Marshal.”

“Just letting you know you don’t want to find yourself in a situation where we’d have to lock you up.”

“Of all the audacity,” Chief Messenger said.

“That, too,” Virgil said. “The main thing in all this is for you to make certain you don’t break any laws and that you stay out of our way.”

Virgil moved through the men. The contingent parted and Chastain and I followed Virgil.

“Who do you think you are, Marshal Cole?” the chief said with a low growl.

Virgil stopped and looked back at the chief.

“You just answered your own question.”

“You better beware, Marshal Cole. I will have your badge removed so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

Big Captain McPherson stepped up in between the chief and Virgil.

“Marshal Cole,” McPherson said, smoothing with a smile that was nothing more than an attempt to calm, “I don’t need to point out the chief here has lost a son.”

“No,” Virgil said. “You don’t.”

“And we lost a colleague,” McPherson said.

“Lost one of ours, too,” Virgil said.

“Then you must understand our obvious disappointment about what has happened here.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

McPherson tilted his head to the side and pulled up on his belt as he glanced to the other Coloradoans for support.

“So,” McPherson said with his palms up and out, “I’m sure you understand there is no reason for impertinence here.”

Virgil smiled. I was pretty sure he did not know the meaning of the word, but by its simple phrasing he knew the gist.

“There is room for every good man,” Virgil said. “There is no room for taking the law into your own hands . . . As long as you understand that.”

“Of course,” McPherson said with a nod and a slight but obvious grimace.

McPherson looked to the contingent again, then back to Virgil.

“We understand,” he said.

“Muy bueno,”
Virgil said.

Virgil started to walk.

“Can you tell us what you know?” McPherson said.

Virgil moved back toward McPherson a bit.

“All we know for certain is Bill Black is out and though he claims he is innocent, we will do what we have to do and hunt him down and recapture him. That’s the law and that is what we will do.”

“All killers posture and claim their innocence, one way or the other,” McPherson said.

“I have a real good handle on that, Captain,” Virgil said.