Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker’s Blackjack

“What did they want?” Virgil said.

“Just wanted to know if Black had been apprehended,” he said.

“What did you tell them?” I said.

“I told them no, and they rode off.”

“So they got horses,” Chastain said. “That just makes it easier for them to travel the wrong direction quicker.”

“Yes, sir,” Book said. “I concur, Sheriff. Wholeheartedly.”

Chastain looked to Virgil.

“What do you want to do?” he said.

“Only thing we can do is be ready to ride in the morning,” Virgil said. “We won’t ride a wrong direction, we will scout this out from the inside out.”

I nodded.

“Circle out until we find someone that has seen them, and get on their trail?” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“Can’t give up,” he said.

Virgil took a sip of coffee, then looked out the door to the falling rain. In the far distance there was some lightning. It was offering flashes of silver over the tops of the buildings across the street.

“Can’t give up,” Virgil said again. “Not till we find him.”

The rain was falling steady now as we walked back toward the house. We passed the Colcord Hotel, where the Denver contingent was boarded. This time when we passed we saw Detective Lieutenant Banes on the porch with a glass in his hand.

“Hey, there,” Banes said.

He was sitting in a chair, but stood up and moved a bit closer to the rail.

“Evening,” he said.

“Evening,” I said.

Of the whole contingent, Banes was the only one that had shown himself as being somewhat regular and not a pain in the ass.

“Any luck?”

“Not as of yet.”

“Still at it?”

“We are,” I said.

“Hell of a day.”

“Is,” I said.

“Guess you heard the chief has us mounted to ride.”

“We did,” I said.

“He’s hell-bent.”

“That’s obvious,” I said.

“Like a drink?” Banes said, holding up his glass.

“No, thanks,” Virgil said.

Banes looked back to see if anyone might be coming out through the door.

“Well, let me just say... or offer my apologies.”

Virgil moved in, walked up a few steps out of the rain, and I followed.

“For?” Virgil said.

“My superiors,” he said.

Virgil said nothing.

“Look,” he said. “I’m not certain of anything. And I don’t know of anything underhanded here. But I do know this has been a bunch of bullshit for you two.”

“How so?” I said.

“Having to deal with any of this shit in the first place,” he said. “Trial should have been in Denver to begin with, but because of Truitt shooting Roger here and Black involved in the crime it all spilled out here on your porch... bunch of bullshit.”

“Where is LaCroix?” Virgil said.

Banes shook his head.

“I got no idea,” he said.

“What’s the story with LaCroix?” Virgil said.

“I really know nothing about him.”

“Why was he not here the first day of the trial?”

“Don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“All I know is he contacted the office in Denver and said he had information about the murder of Ruth Ann Messenger.”

“Did you know what the information was?”

“No, not specifically. We received a wire he was an eyewitness and was on his way here to testify,” Banes said. “Really, that is all I know.”

“You can’t tell me the chief was not thinking that Black would get out and try to find him,” I said.

“I can’t tell you, no. But like I say, I don’t know of anything underhanded here, I don’t, and also like I told you before, I was not so certain this was not Roger’s doing.”

“You still feel that way?”

“Look, as far as I know this LaCroix was as legit as can be, so I have to believe what was said. Seemed to be convincing and earnest, a normal kind of guy and calm as hell until he was attacked. And then Black going after him like he did gained the fella a shitload of juror sympathy.”

“And you don’t think the chief wants to see Black hung because it will clear his family name as well as his conscience,” I said.

“There has to be truth to that. That would be what any man would want for his family,” Banes said, then held up his index finger, “especially if it were in fact a valid truth.”

“Was anybody else fucking Ruth Ann that you know of?” Virgil said.

“No,” he said.

Virgil nodded a bit.

“If there is anything I can help you with,” Banes said, “I will.”

“One thing that would be helpful,” Virgil said.

“What’s that?”

“If you do find Black before we do, it’d be a good idea that he’s not accidently strung up,” Virgil said.

Banes nodded a little and held up his glass.

We backed down the stairs and moved on.

“He’s straight,” I said.

“Seems,” Virgil said.

We walked on up the street and crossed through the alley to Virgil’s place.

I was thinking about seeing Daphne as we walked. I thought about sleeping with her again tonight and feeling her warm body next to me. I thought about maybe sleeping with her for a good while, not just tonight but other nights to follow. Most of the women I had any kind of sustained relationship with had either been whores, or in my dreams, or disappearing fortune tellers.

The light was dim when we entered the house. There was but one lamp burning and it was atop Allie’s piano. We figured Allie and Daphne to be asleep.

When we stepped inside, though, we knew right away something was not right. Something was most definitely wrong. The first thing that stuck out was Allie and the way she was sitting.

She was at her piano, but not facing the piano. She was sitting straight back on the bench with her back to the keys. Sitting directly across from her was Daphne. She was clutching a pillow to her chest as if it were a shield. Then I saw the problem. I saw it the same moment that Virgil did.

Sitting in the dark corner was Bill Black holding a pistol in one hand and a bottle of Virgil’s Kentucky whiskey in the other. The pistol was pointed straight out between Daphne and Allie.

“We been waiting for you,” he said.

“Put the gun down,” Virgil said.

“No.”

“Put it down,” Virgil said.

He shook his head and took a swig of the Kentucky.

“No.”

“You got no reason to do this,” Virgil said.

Black laughed.

“Bullshit,” he said.

The bottle in Black’s hand was nearly empty and it was clear he was beyond drunk.

“You are not in charge here,” he said.

Both Allie and Daphne sat still, rigid with fear.

“I got no choice other than this,” Black said.

“Sure you do,” Virgil said.

“Not really,” Black said.

“Put the gun down,” Virgil said.

He smiled.

“You’re not in charge here,” he said.

“Do like I tell you.”

He shook his head.

“No. Besides, this going the wrong way here,” he said, waving the gun, “has no real impact on me, because... because... you see, I’m a dead man.”

“No reason to hurt someone else,” I said.

He smiled.

“Everybody thinks I killed that bitch.”

“Right now, all you need to do,” Virgil said, “is give me the gun.”

“I did not do it,” he said.

“What do you want, Black?”

“I want to be free.”

“Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“Put the gun down and let’s talk about this.”

“Fuck talking,” he said. “Look where talking has got me.”

“Why this, Black?” I said. “This can’t help you.”

“I’d rather hang than be on the run for something I did not do.”