Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker's Revelation

I nodded a little, thinking about that.

“Well, without some refinement they’d stick out like a cete of badgers amongst this gaggle of geese.”

“They would,” Virgil said.

“Hell,” I said. “The idea of them just walking across this polished floor would be enough to cause concern.”

We just stood and watched and listened for a moment before we made a move.

“Since we got no real idea of what to do exactly,” I said, “or where to go, I figure we check out the most obvious possibilities first.”

Virgil nodded.

“Whiskey,” Virgil said.

“Yep,” I said. “Don’t think we’d find them among this bunch sipping tea.”

“No,” Virgil said. “I don’t, either.”

Virgil looked over to the front desk.

“Maybe we have a visit with the man in charge first,” Virgil said. “Gotta be a man in charge.”

We walked toward the long, wide desk, where a well-dressed woman and two men wearing matching vests were helping a handful of guests.

The woman was the first to look to us, and she came over to where we were standing. She was a nice-looking dark-haired woman with even darker eyes. She walked with her shoulders back and her head held high, as if she were in charge.

“Good evening, gentlemen, and welcome to the Montezuma Hotel. How can I be of service?”

I smiled and I tipped my hat, then Virgil ever so slightly showed his badge as he said quietly, “I’m Marshal Virgil Cole. This is Deputy Marshal Hitch and we would like to have a talk with the person in charge of this outfit.”

Her eyes worked back and forth between us, and then she nodded. She walked out from around the counter and smiled.

“Right this way,” she said.

We followed her as she walked across the polished floor toward a set of double doors off the main atrium. Above the doors was a sign: STATE ROOM. She stopped just before the door and turned to us.

“I’m not allowed inside,” she said as she opened the door, “but you will find Mr. Havenhurst sitting back there on the side of the bar, having his dinner.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said.

“My pleasure,” she said.

I smiled at her and entered behind Virgil, and the door closed after me.

It was a dark room with a low ceiling, and it was full of cigar smoke. Scattered throughout were a lot of men sitting on stuffed wingback chairs and couches. At the far end of the room there was a long bar with a mirror that extended the length of the bar, making the room appear to be twice its size. Virgil and I weaved between the tables and chairs and walked up to the bar. We were met by a heavyset bartender with arms the size of hams. He had slicked-back graying hair and was stuffed into a formal black suit with a white starched shirt and a silk tie.

“May I help you?” he said in a deep voice.

Then we saw him, a tall, slender man with white hair. He was sitting off to the side of the bar with a napkin tucked over the collar of his shirt, sipping soup from a large spoon.

“Mr. Havenhurst?” Virgil said.

He lowered his spoon into the soup bowl and shifted his eyes between Virgil and me.

“Yes?” he said.

Virgil and I moved down the bar toward him and Virgil showed his badge.

“I’m Marshal Virgil Cole and this here is Deputy Marshal Everett Hitch and we are looking for three men. We believe they could be here at your hotel.”

“I see,” he said. “And I assume these men you are looking for are wanted men?”

“They are,” Virgil said.

“We will do what we can to assist you.”

“Pardon me,” the big heavyset bartender said, interrupting as he held up his hand like a schoolboy, then looked to Mr. Havenhurst.

“Sir, I believe I know exactly who they are looking for.”

“Who is it, Tony?” Havenhurst said.

“At least I think I know, or I suspect.”

“Go on,” Virgil said.

“Well, they were in here last night and again this afternoon,” he said. “Last night they were okay. I thought them to be odd men, though. Not the kind of men that come in here, anyway. I’ve had three presidents in here. But today they were drunk, and I don’t put up with drunks. Not in the State Bar. This is a respectable establishment I run here.”

“Know where they are?”

“Not at the moment I don’t, but I told them they needed to leave,” he said. “Told them they’d had too much, that they needed to sober up. I told them if they sobered up that I would let them come back, but not until then.”

“What’d they look like?” I said.

“All about forty, I’d say. Wearing fairly nice clothes, nothing too fancy. Two were pretty skinny and the third was bigger, strong-like, bald, had a crooked nose.”

I looked to Virgil and Virgil looked to Havenhurst and nodded.

“That’s them,” Virgil said. “That’s for certain the men we’re looking for.”

“This is the first I have heard of these men,” Havenhurst said. “I know you wired last night inquiring, and I’m sorry, but we had no way of knowing. But it seems now we do.”

“Does,” Virgil said.

Havenhurst removed the napkin stuffed into his collar, folded it, set it on the bar, and said, “How can we help you?”

Virgil looked to me and I looked to Havenhurst.

“I know you have other bars and saloons here,” I said. “Where are they located?”

“Across the atrium there is the Aztec Billiard Room and on the second floor there is another, the Canary Lounge. A small, more intimate place where women are allowed, a romantic couples place, mostly.”

“You got whores that work here?” Virgil said.

“I do not,” Havenhurst said in a defensive tone of voice.

“None around here? No whores?” Virgil said, looking back and forth between the bartender and Havenhurst. “You mean there is no place here where men can get some comfort from a woman friend?”

“Not really,” the bartender said.

“Not really, meaning yes or no?” I said.

The bartender looked to Havenhurst.

“We just need to know where to look,” I said.

“If there is a place here where ladies sell their goods,” Virgil said. “Just let us know.”

“There are a few ladies who work here,” Havenhurst said reluctantly. “They live elsewhere, not on the premises, but do service the guests on occasion.”

“And how would a guest know about this service?”

The bartender looked to Havenhurst, then back to us.

“Through me and the other barkeeps,” Tony said.

“They didn’t ask you, did they,” I said. “About where to get some company?”

“No,” he said. “But they could have asked the others.”

“And the women come to the rooms?” I said.

Tony nodded.

“They do.”

“Do the men visit them outside of the hotel,” I said, “at another location?”

“No.”

“And how do you get in touch with the whores?” Virgil said. “To let them know they have a paying client?”

“We have a runner.”

“How many whores in all are there?”

“Five to seven,” Tony said. “Unless things get real busy, then they bring in some friends from Las Vegas.”

“Good,” Virgil said.

“Good?” Havenhurst said.

Virgil nodded.

“The work we do, Mr. Havenhurst, is a matter of de... de... what’s the word I’m looking for, Everett?”

“Deduction.”

Virgil nodded.

“That’s right,” Virgil said, “deduction. You understand that, don’t you, Mr. Havenhurst?”

“It’s just that I run a respectable business here.”

“Well, I know you got a tall steeple up top, but you ain’t operating no church here, Mr. Havenhurst... Presidents, doctors, escaped convicts all need to get a little pussy now and again, just how it is. It’s nothing personal, we just need to know the lay of the land, that’s all.”