Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker's Revelation

Vandervoort smiled and waved, then moved up the stage steps with Constance on his arm. Constance stood to the side and Vandervoort stepped behind the lectern as the crowd clapped. He held up his hands and resembled a Christ-like politician.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

Everyone began to settle down, and once everyone stopped clapping Vandervoort put his hands together.

“Thank you, thank you, the fine citizens of Appaloosa... Thank you.”

The crowd moved in around the stage to listen to Vandervoort and Virgil and I drifted in the door and stood just inside as he began to speak.

“Some of you know I just returned from New Orleans where I received a shipment of incredible goods that I procured from some auctions and estate sales overseas — from places like France and Italy and Spain. Fine merchandise, mind you, the kind of merchandise one might find in Philadelphia, Chicago, New York, or Boston. Nevertheless, the point is, this merchandise, in these two boxcar loads I brought back with me, will soon find its way into your homes and places of business. These goods, along with this wonderful Town Hall and this avenue with the fine stores and businesses, is what will separate Appaloosa from all the other hamlets that have sprung up during this country’s western expansion. It has been my intention all along to build a city west of the Mississippi that will rival any of those aforementioned. It has been my intention since the first day of my arrival here to lift this community of Appaloosa out of the confines of backward culture. I see here among us some of my business and leasing partners. Please come up here with me, Bob Kirkwood is here, James Carlisle, Red Peterson, and Allison French. These are the owners and operators of new business along Vandervoort Avenue here. Allie, Bob, James, Red, come. Allie I am particularly proud of, our one and only woman business owner in all of Appaloosa. The tide is changing, folks, and we here in Appaloosa are on the forefront of that change.”

Allie and the other men all walked up the steps. When they were all there behind Vandervoort he turned and looked to them and clapped. This encouraged the rest of the folks in the room to start clapping, too.

Then, rising up the steps from behind the stage, came Driggs, with the double-barrel shotgun pointed at the back of Vandervoort’s head.

The crowd instantly began to clamor and start for the doors until Driggs yelled with a booming voice, “Nobody move!”

Everyone did as he said.

Driggs was calm and commanding, and his physical presence was powerful and instantly convincing.

“Goddamn, Virgil... goddamn,” I said.

Virgil and I were at the back of the crowd and any move we made, one way or the other, would not be wise.

Vandervoort turned slowly to see Driggs.

“Turn back around,” Driggs said loudly.

The crowd gasped.

“Everybody quiet,” Driggs said. “The first person that makes a move to leave here, this worm at the end of this gun will have his head scattered all over you.”

Vandervoort turned slowly back and faced the crowd. His face was white and his jaw was slack.

“Put both your hands on that lectern,” Driggs said.

Vandervoort did as he was told.

“This speech that he began was rousing,” Driggs said. “But it’s going nowhere. He’s going to start over and tell you another story. Aren’t you?”

Vandervoort said nothing.

“Looks like he’s seen a ghost,” I said under my breath.

Driggs moved up between Allie and one of the other men standing behind Vandervoort and put the barrel to the back of Vandervoort’s head.

“Aren’t you?”

Driggs popped him in the head with the gun.

“What do you want me to say?” Vandervoort said.

“Tell them who you really are.”

Vandervoort said nothing.

“Tell them.”

“No.”

“Can’t, can you?”

“Just do it,” Vandervoort said.

“What? My God,” Constance said. “No!”

“He might be right,” Driggs said to Constance. “That might be the best. Certainly the easiest.”

“Dear God...”

“God has nothing to do with this, lady.”

Constance had tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Please,” she said. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt?” Driggs said. “You don’t know what hurt is.”

“Please...” she said.

“Shut the hell up,” Driggs said.

Driggs poked the gun again at the back of Vandervoort’s head.

“Talk.”

Vandervoort shook his head.

“No.”

“I will tell them then, and you can fill in the blanks. Let’s start not at the beginning but toward the end. Let’s start with that necklace around your wife’s neck.”

Everyone looked to the stunning diamond and ruby necklace hanging around Constance’s throat. Her hand instantly clutched the necklace as if someone were trying to take it from her.

“Don’t worry, lady, it doesn’t belong to you anyway. None of the jewelry belongs to you, or the gold, or the money. In fact, that necklace was what set all this in motion. Happened on the day you returned from your fucking honeymoon in France...”

Driggs poked Vandervoort with the gun again.

“I was not certain you were in trouble until I found out the Pinkertons were after your ass. Good thing I got to you before they got to you... They are here, you can bet your ass. You gave that necklace to her for a wedding gift and you end up with a photograph of the loving newlyweds in the fucking society news wearing the very necklace you stole off that ship from Spain eight years ago. Did you really think that they would stop looking for that? The fucking King of Spain hired the Pinkertons eight years ago and now they are here for you. They even paid for this party just so she would be an idiot and wear that or one of the other ones. That little cute woman there? She’s one of them, too. Isn’t that the truth? Tell him.”

The crowd looked to Margie. They opened up as Margie moved a few steps toward the lectern.

“He’s correct, Mr. Vandervoort... This does not need to end like this,” Margie said.

“No?” Driggs said.

“And that fella over there that put this party together, he’s one of them, too.”

Driggs looked to Rutledge and his two men.

“Those two with him, brothers,” Driggs said. “Them, too.”

“I’ll be goddamn,” I said silently. “You damn sure called it, Virgil.”

“But that is not the best part,” Driggs said, then nudged Vandervoort with the gun. “Is it?”

Vandervoort said nothing.

“I was with him on the heist of that ship in Mexico,” Driggs said. “Hell, it was my idea. I knew about the shipment and I organized the robbery. But what I did not count on was to be shot in the back and left for dead.”

Driggs poked the gun again.

“But I’m not dead, am I? No... I am the first and the last. I am the one that lives. I was dead but behold I am alive for evermore...”

Driggs nudged Vandervoort again.

“You want to tell them who shot me?”

No one moved.

“No?” said Driggs. “It was him. He shot me.”

The crowd gasped.

“I should have known that would have happened.”

Allie was shaking so hard we could see the ruffles on her dress fluttering.

“Talk to him, Everett,” Virgil said quietly. “Start a conversation.”

I glanced to Virgil and he nodded some.

“Here’s why I should have known it would happen,” Driggs said. “Because he’s been a ruthless killer his whole life. One of the first that I knew about was a man named Vandervoort, a Dutch salesman with a wagonload of supplies. So what does he do? He kills the Dutchman and takes the wagon and then years later he takes his fucking name, too. He thought it sounded like Vanderbilt. He thought he could be just like him. The Commodore.”