Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker’s Blackjack

“Why do you think?” I said.

“I don’t think and I don’t know.”

“You have to have some kind of idea?” I said.

“No,” she said, “I don’t... He is an anomaly. In actuality, he functions pretty much like a hole card.”

“How so?” Virgil said.

She shrugged a little.

“He keeps himself facedown, never obliged to reveal what he’s about until it is time for the showdown.”

Virgil looked at her for an extended moment, then looked to me.

“Do you think he killed her?” I said.

“Perhaps his reasoning for bringing up this business of murdering the woman in Denver was an attempt to simply madden me, to put me in my place. Then again, perhaps it was his celestial epitaph of finality. Regardless, as I told you, this is a place of reckoning. And Boston Bill Black was... is no fool, but he is also no exception.”

When we left Mike in her saloon it was good and dark out. The night air was pleasant and the wind had died down to a gentle breeze.

“Tangled goddamn web,” I said.

“Is,” Virgil said.

“I’ll say,” Skinny Jack said. “She’s... well, I don’t know, strange, I guess.”

We got our horses and rode off down the street to pay the whores a visit. We wanted to see if they might be able to offer up any news regarding the intended whereabouts of Truitt Shirley, his buddy, and Boston Bill.

The working girls were sitting on the porch in two weathered armchairs when we rode up. A lamp hung from a rope draped over the porch’s eave beam made it possible to see them clearly. One of the women lifted out of her chair when we came to a stop.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome. I am Irena.”

“I am Ursula,” the seated woman said.

They were fairly young, and it was obvious by their accents that they were Polish.

Irena leaned on the porch post and showed us the flesh of her thigh.

“You like?” she said.

She smiled a wide smile.

“Tell me if you like?”

“Very nice,” I said. “But...”

“Me love good,” Ursula said as she, too, got to her feet.

Though I’m sure they were good at their trade, their English was limited. Irena was slightly older than Ursula and seemed able to manage words a little better.

“Tonight,” Irena said, “we can make you feel really so very good, you will see.”

She turned around and showed us her backside.

“You will feel better,” Irena said, looking back over her shoulder.

“No,” Virgil said. “Just want to talk.”

She remained looking at us over her shoulder for a moment, then slowly turned to face us.

“Talk about what?” Irena said.

“The men you were with last night,” I said.

Irena put a hand to her hip.

“What men?”

“The blond fella, long hair, and the other man, young, dark hair, beard. They were with another man, an older tall fella.”

Irena looked to Ursula. Ursula shook her head and Irena looked to me, shaking her head.

I moved close to the porch, pulled a dollar from my vest, leaned out, and handed it to Irena. She looked at the dollar in the palm of her hand, then back at me.

“What about them?” Irena said.

“Do you know where they are?”

Irena looked to Ursula, then to me, and shook her head.

“No.”

“When did they leave?” Virgil said.

“Last night,” Irena said. “Very late. They left in the middle of the night.”

“You sure?” I said.

“Yes,” Irena said. “The big man came in here and told the other two they had to leave. They left.”

“Any idea which way they rode away?”

“No,” she said.

Virgil looked to me, nodded a bit, then backed his horse up.

“Appreciate it,” I said.

Ursula said something in Polish that made Irena laugh.

“What’s that?” I said

“The one man,” Irena said, “the young man. He could not do fun with Ursula, he was very sick with tooth.”

“Yes,” Ursula said, then rattled off something in Polish and pointed to her temple.

Irena nodded.

“Yes, his tooth was very bad, he was in much pain,” she said as she pointed two fingers to her eyes. “He was crazy.”

Ursula nodded.

“Blood...” Irena said. “He was spitting much blood like he was the devil.”

Ursula nodded her head in agreement and said something in Polish again.

“Yes, he drank a lot of whiskey,” Irena said, “to, you know, to help with pain, but it did little good. And he was mad at the other man.”

“Mad?” I said. “Why?”

Irena shook her head.

“I do not know, they just complain about each other, like little boys fighting over candy.”

Virgil looked to me, then looked back to the women and nodded.

“All right, then,” he said.

Virgil tipped his hat and reined his horse away from the women a little.

“Special,” Ursula said as she moved to the door.

She held back the tarp that covered the door and pointed to Skinny Jack and then pointed in the room.

“For you,” she said. “Special.”

Skinny Jack looked to me, then to Virgil, and pointed to himself.

“Me?”

“Yes. Special,” she said, nodding. “Ursula show you and I will make very good for you.”

“Um, gosh, thank you,” Skinny Jack said, “but no, thank you, ma’am.”

“No, you come,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I... I won’t come, ma’am.”

“Yes,” she said.

She pointed to Skinny Jack, then pointed into the room like she was angry, and she spoke to Skinny Jack in a scolding tone.

“Special, Ursula will show you.”

Skinny Jack backed his horse up and shook his head.

“Got to go, ma’am,” Skinny Jack said.

“Ursula do extra-special for you.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Skinny Jack said.

Ursula laughed and pulled down one side of her loose-fitting cotton dress and showed one of her breasts. I couldn’t see Skinny Jack in the dark, but I was pretty sure he was blushing.

Virgil smiled and turned his horse.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, and moved on.

“You sure you do not want some love?” Ursula said again to Skinny Jack.

“Maybe next time,” I said, speaking for Skinny Jack. “Maybe next time.”

“There is no better time than now,” Irena said as we rode off in the dark. “No better time.”

She laughed and Ursula joined her. Their laughter cut through the otherwise still evening. We could hear them jabbering in Polish as Skinny Jack and I caught up with Virgil. The three of us rode abreast for a moment before Virgil spoke up.

“Well, there you have it.”

“Yep,” I said.

“That Polish lady has a sure enough hankering for you, Skinny Jack,” Virgil said.

“Sure enough,” I said. “Special.”

“Extra-special,” Virgil said.

We rode to the corral behind the stage stop, where an elderly black fellow we’d seen pitching hay earlier gladly gave us some feed for our animals.

His name was Louis. He was a tall, lanky man hunched over from years of hard work, friendly but not at all talkative. He said he’d seen Black and the other two ride in but never talked with them or saw them after they rode by.

Louis shared with us some food he cooked. It was a good-tasting red broth stew made of pork, corn, rice, and beans. We sat under the lean-to behind the stop and ate with the animals.

“They damn sure keeping on the move,” I said.

“They are,” Virgil said.

“Sounds like the one fella is in some pain,” Skinny Jack said.

“Does,” I said.

“We getting on the road tonight?” Skinny Jack said. “Stay after them?”

Virgil nodded.