Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker's Revelation

“Get our horses,” Virgil said. “Come to the Boston House.”

“Boston House?” he said.

“Yes,” Virgil said.

Book nodded and started off.

“And Book?”

Book stopped and looked back to Virgil.

“I’m sorry, son.”

Book nodded a little, then moved on.

Virgil and I walked directly and with some pace to the Boston House. When we rounded the corner onto Main Street there was a crowd of people standing on the porch of the hotel and an ambulance was sitting out front.

When we arrived, Doc Burris was standing behind the ambulance, watching as a body was being loaded into the back. He turned, seeing Virgil and me.

“Hey, there,” Doc said.

“What have you got here, Doc?” Virgil said.

He shook his head.

“Dead man,” Doc said. “Nobody seems to know who he is.”

Virgil and I looked inside the ambulance. I turned to the driver.

“Let me have one of your lamps there,” I said.

The driver handed me the lamp and I raised it up some so Virgil and I could have a look at the man in the back.

When the light shined on his face, Virgil looked to me.

“That ain’t Driggs,” I said.

We studied the man’s face for a long moment.

“I’ll be goddamn, Virgil,” I said. “Think that is... Ed Degraw?”

Virgil tilted his head a little, looking at the dead man with the wide nose and frizzy hair and nodded a little.

“I do,” he said.

“Virgil, Everett,” Wallis said. “Thank God you are here.”

We turned to see fat Wallis. He walked as quickly as his big body would move down the steps and over to the ambulance.

“You know what happened here, Wallis?” I said.

Wallis nodded. He was out of breath and his eyes were wide.

“Damnedest thing...” he said, then inhaled followed by blowing the hair that was hanging in his eyes. “There was a loud boom, gunfire, upstairs. The whole saloon went quiet as hell. Then we heard awful banging around up above here and then two men, the dead man there, and another, Mr. Bedford, crashed out the upstairs window.”

Wallis turned and pointed up the window.

“Any law here?” Virgil said. “Been up there?”

Wallis nodded.

“Just got here. Not seen Chastain or Book, but two of the young deputies is here, they went up there.”

“You said the other man was Bedford?” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Bedford is a guest here. Him and that dead fella in the ambulance there busted out the window and landed here in the street. Then Mr. Bedford killed him. He snapped that man’s neck, broke it with a crack. Right there in front of us. We watched the whole thing. Hell of a deal I have to say... Mr. Bedford has been staying here for a good while. Hell, nice man, served him here near every day. Goddamnedest thing I ever seen.”

“This Bedford?” I said. “Big strong fella?”

Wallis nodded.

“Was a woman with him?” I said.

Wallis nodded.

“Been a woman with him the whole time he’s been here, a beauty, I might add, but she was not with him, not when he walked off.”

Just then, Skeeter, the young Mexican deputy, poked his head out the busted-out window on the second floor and threw up.

Virgil and I stepped back and looked up to him.

Skeeter wiped his mouth and shook his head.

“Skeeter,” I said.

He looked to me, shook his head, then threw up again. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Got a woman up here, dead... she’s been ripped apart. I ain’t never seen no dead person before, but I don’t think in a lifetime I would see a dead person like this. It is God awful.”

“Young woman?” I said.

Skeeter nodded and threw up again.

“Oh my God,” Wallis said.

“Any idea where this Mr. Bedford walked off to?” Virgil said.

Wallis pointed.

“Said he was going to the big party, at the Vandervoort Town Hall.”

“The party?”

“The fancy party at the Vandervoort Town Hall.”

Virgil glanced at me.

“He has a shotgun with him,” Wallis said.

“What?” I said.

“A side by side,” Wallis said. “He loaded it and walked off.”

“Said he was going to the party,” Virgil said. “With a loaded shotgun?”

Wallis nodded.

“He was kind of... intent, it seemed, like he had something to do. Hell, I don’t know... He had that fucked-up look, you know.”

“Goddamn Wallis,” I said.

“How long ago?” Virgil said.

“Twenty minutes, maybe.”

Virgil looked to me and we started walking at a quick pace toward the Vandervoort Town Hall. I looked back to Skeeter as we walked.

“Leave her, Skeeter,” I said. “Leave everything as it is up there.”

Skeeter nodded and threw up again.

We hurried the few blocks toward the Town Hall. We heard the music before we turned the corner onto Vandervoort Avenue, and as we approached the Town Hall we saw a number of people standing on the porch in front of the place.

All the tall double doors that fronted the street were open, and toward the far end of the room the guests were moving about through the doors, easing from inside to out and outside to in. Virgil and I edged up to the first set of the tall doors and looked inside. The partygoers were all looking to be having a fine time. We did not enter, we just stood watching, and after observing for a few moments Virgil shook his head.

“Don’t see Driggs,” he said.

“Nope,” I said.

“Be hard to miss walking around with a fucking shotgun,” Virgil said.

“He’d be hard to miss without it,” I said.

Most of the party crowd was toward the opposite end of the long room, but we had a good view of everyone. The majority of the people were spaced out, sitting in chairs around the edges. In the center couples were dancing to waltz music being played by a big band that was perched up on one side of the stage.

Virgil turned, looked around across the street, then looked back inside the room.

“What do you think?” I said.

Virgil shook his head a little.

“Don’t make sense.”

“Maybe he’s off to catch that train when it leaves,” I said. “Think it’s at ten.”

“Could be,” Virgil said.

“Wonder what happened to the woman?”

“Been thinking that, too,” he said.

“Think somehow Degraw might have got to her?”

Virgil nodded.

“From Skeeter’s look and description, sounds like the work of Degraw,” he said. “But this is all pretty much a spiderweb if there ever was one.”

“There’s Allie and her friend,” I said.

Virgil followed my look.

“Margie,” Virgil said.

They were sipping champagne and talking to two young men near the front by the band.

“Allie looks to be having a good time,” I said.

“She does,” Virgil said.

“Want to go on in?” I said.

Before Virgil answered, someone from the crowd called out, “Here he is.”

A lighted coach pulled by a big white horse stopped in front of the main entrance. The door was opened by one of the party attendants and out stepped Vandervoort, followed by his new bride, Constance. As always, he was dressed in a handsome long coat with gold buttons but now sported a frilly white shirt. Constance was wearing a gold dress that shimmered, and around her neck was a jeweled necklace that sparkled even more than the dress.

“The man himself,” I said.

“Yep,” Virgil said.

“Look like a couple from some damn painting.”

When the waltz ended everyone clapped. It was as if it were orchestrated by some kind of divine order, the end of the waltz coupled with the arrival of the Vandervoorts.

Everyone turned and acknowledged Vandervoort and his wife with a round of applause when they entered. Then, after the long clapping died down, a chant started — Speech, speech, speech!