Robert B. Parker's Blackjack (A Cole and Hitch Novel)

by Robert Knott

  “Buck,” Doc said.

  He waited a few seconds and there was no answer, then Doc called out louder, “Buck!”

  Buck answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Come here, will you. I want to ask you something.”

  Doc turned and walked back toward us.

  “Bill Black is out,” Doc said. “That is certainly one way to get a stay of execution.”

  “For the moment,” Virgil said.

  “I would ask you how he escaped, but I won’t,” Doc said. “I don’t imagine that is a topic worth discussing.”

  We heard Buck coming up the hall. He was a big jovial ex-slave we all knew from working odd jobs around town. He came through the back door with a mop in his hand and stopped in his tracks when he saw us. He had that wide-eyed look of surprise that made me think he just might have thought we were looking for him.

  “What is it?”

  “You see anyone this morning when you opened up?” Doc said.

  Buck looked at each of us in turn, then shook his head.

  “No, sir,” he said. “I ain’t . . .”

  Doc nodded, then looked to us.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “But,” Buck said, “I can tell you this, there sure ’nough was someone here ’fore I got here this morning.”

  “What?” Doc said.

  “Sure ’nough,” Buck said, nodding.

  “How do you know, Buck?” Virgil said.

  “The back door was open,” he said.

  “You sure you didn’t leave it unlocked last night?” Doc said.

  Buck nodded and said, “I’m real sure . . . Someone got in the back door . . . there was dirt on the floor.”

  “What?” Doc said.

  “Yes, sir. When I got here, I come up the back steps back here, like I always do, and I got out my keys to open the door and it was wide open.”

  “Who all has a key?” I said.

  “Buck, Nurse Crain, and me,” Doc said.

  “What about her?” Virgil said.

  “She was here yesterday, but she for sure left before me,” Buck said.

  “You sure?” Doc said.

  Buck nodded.

  “Nobody was here. She was gone and I locked it, Doc. Not sure how it was unlocked, but it was wide open, and there was, like I say . . . bits of dirt on the floor and on the stairs.”

  “Anything missing?” Doc said.

  “No, sir,” Buck said. “Not that I can tell.”

  “Were there any windows left open?” Virgil said.

  “No,” Buck said. “I do my routine when I leave here. Them windows all got locks on them and I lock ’em when we are gone, no matter how hot it is out.”

  67.

  We had a quick look around the hospital to see if there was some kind of sign that would give us helpful information regarding the break-in, but found nothing that stuck out.

  When we left the hospital, Chastain was the first out the door. He stopped on the top step, looking off down the street.

  “Oh, shit . . .” he said. “Lookie here.”

  “Here we go,” I said.

  Marching up the street came the Denver contingent. Every one of them: Payne, Banes, King, McPherson, and they were being led by the chief of police. Brady Messenger.

  “I don’t imagine they are none too happy,” I said.

  “No,” Virgil said. “I don’t imagine, either.”

  “News travels fast,” I said.

  “The whole unit,” Chastain said.

  “Damn sure is,” I said.

  “Only a matter of time,” Virgil said.

  We descended the stairs and turned in their direction. We walked toward them a ways, then stopped in the middle of the street in front of a row of mining tool shops and waited for them to get to us. It was obvious the chief was agitated and intense as he strutted purposefully toward us.

  “Ain’t that a sight,” Chastain said under his breath. “He looks like a lit’ ol’ Banty rooster.”

  We waited as they neared, and when they were within conversation range Virgil tipped back his hat.

  “Good morning,” Virgil said.

  Chief Messenger waved at the salutation like he was shooing a fly in front of his nose.

  “We just heard the goddamn news,” Chief Messenger said.

  “What news?”

  “How could you have let this . . . this fucking happen?” Chief Messenger said.

  Virgil glanced at me, then looked back to Chief Messenger.

  “What?” Virgil said.

  “Don’t fuck around with me, Marshal Cole,” Chief Messenger said, holding up a bony finger. “I am not in the mood, nor am I ever someone you want to fuck with.”

  Virgil smiled just a little, but did not respond right away. If he had feathers or the inclination to ruffle them, which he had neither of, this damn sure would have done it. But Virgil Cole was not a man that engaged in another man’s ignorance, disdain, or discord. Fact was, it was these kinds of ignoble instants, moments of another person’s righteous, self-obsessed importance, that made Virgil the noble man that he was.

  “What news?” Virgil said.

  “Goddamn it,” he said. “Bill Black escaping, of course.”

  Virgil said nothing and all I could think about was what Valentine had told us about Messenger’s church life and how right now he seemed to be about as far from a pulpit pounder as you could find.

  Chief Messenger looked behind us to the hospital.

  “What were you doing there?” the chief said with a point. “Was he there at the . . . the hospital?”

  “Why would Bill Black be at the hospital?” Virgil said.

  “What?”

  “Do you know?” Virgil said.

  “What are you goddamn getting at?”

  Virgil turned and looked to the hospital, then turned back to the chief.

  “Simple question,” Virgil said.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” the chief said with his chest puffed up.

  “What is it you are implying?” McPherson said.

  “Not implying,” Virgil said. “I can rephrase the question, make it even simpler. Do any of you know why Bill Black would pay a visit to the hospital?”

  “To . . . to finish what he started, of course,” Chief Messenger said. “Why else?”

  “You tell me,” Virgil said.

  “He’s a convicted murderer, Marshal,” Chief Messenger said.

  Virgil looked to me and smiled a bit then looked back to the chief.

  “In that case,” Virgil said, “it might be best you stay in your rooms and lock the doors.”

  “What?” Chief Messenger said with a snarl.

  “I don’t think Bill Black is too pleased with any of you, and if he’s the killer you are convinced he is, it might be best to stay out of sight so you don’t get hurt.”

  The chief’s face turned redder than it already was.

  “We will do no such thing,” the chief said. “There is a killer on the loose, he got loose under your watch, and he will be fucking found this time under my watch and he will be hung.”

  “Under your watch?” Virgil said.

  “You heard me,” Chief Messenger said.

  Virgil smiled.

  “Be better than a good idea you don’t do anything stupid,” Virgil said.

  “What?” Chief Messenger said, jerking his head back as if he’d been slapped.

  “Don’t want to find you or any of your men breaking the law,” Virgil said. “With all that is going on here, it’d be a real shame to have to arrest you . . . or them, or all of you.”

  The little man moved a bit closer to Virgil.

  “Don’t cross me, Marshal.”

  “Just letting you know you don�
��t want to find yourself in a situation where we’d have to lock you up.”

  “Of all the audacity,” Chief Messenger said.

  “That, too,” Virgil said. “The main thing in all this is for you to make certain you don’t break any laws and that you stay out of our way.”

  Virgil moved through the men. The contingent parted and Chastain and I followed Virgil.

  “Who do you think you are, Marshal Cole?” the chief said with a low growl.

  Virgil stopped and looked back at the chief.

  “You just answered your own question.”

  “You better beware, Marshal Cole. I will have your badge removed so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  Big Captain McPherson stepped up in between the chief and Virgil.

  “Marshal Cole,” McPherson said, smoothing with a smile that was nothing more than an attempt to calm, “I don’t need to point out the chief here has lost a son.”

  “No,” Virgil said. “You don’t.”

  “And we lost a colleague,” McPherson said.

  “Lost one of ours, too,” Virgil said.

  “Then you must understand our obvious disappointment about what has happened here.”

  Virgil didn’t say anything.

  McPherson tilted his head to the side and pulled up on his belt as he glanced to the other Coloradoans for support.

  “So,” McPherson said with his palms up and out, “I’m sure you understand there is no reason for impertinence here.”

  Virgil smiled. I was pretty sure he did not know the meaning of the word, but by its simple phrasing he knew the gist.

  “There is room for every good man,” Virgil said. “There is no room for taking the law into your own hands . . . As long as you understand that.”

  “Of course,” McPherson said with a nod and a slight but obvious grimace.

  McPherson looked to the contingent again, then back to Virgil.

  “We understand,” he said.

  “Muy bueno,” Virgil said.

  Virgil started to walk.

  “Can you tell us what you know?” McPherson said.

  Virgil moved back toward McPherson a bit.

  “All we know for certain is Bill Black is out and though he claims he is innocent, we will do what we have to do and hunt him down and recapture him. That’s the law and that is what we will do.”

  “All killers posture and claim their innocence, one way or the other,” McPherson said.

  “I have a real good handle on that, Captain,” Virgil said.

  68.

  We left the Coloradoans standing in the street, and Virgil, Chastain, and I started back toward the office.

  “They got some goddamn gall, them boys,” Chastain said, looking back at them as we rounded the corner.

  “They do,” I said.

  “Think they’ll be a problem?” Chastain said.

  “They already are,” Virgil said.

  “Showed their face card,” Chastain said.

  “Yes, but covered their show on the fact that Black was going after LaCroix to kill him and not as an attempt to exonerate himself.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “What now?” Chastain said.

  We walked for a moment and Virgil said nothing.

  “You want me to check the hotels?” Chastain said. “See if we can find LaCroix?”

  “Don’t think there is any need,” Virgil said.

  “You think he’s gone?” Chastain said.

  “More than likely,” Virgil said. “But let’s check just the same.”

  We searched the hotels and bunkhouses for LaCroix but found nothing. The depot had no record of LaCroix traveling back to Denver, and no one working the ticket sales had any recollection of seeing him, either.

  The search for Bill Black and Truitt Shirley yielded the same. The deputies that stood watch on the thoroughfares leading out of town throughout the day had not seen any sign of Black and Truitt, and by late in the afternoon, the whole of the Appaloosa law enforcement came up empty-handed.

  After the sun went down a cool breeze came in, and with it the smell of rain. We continued to search the insides and outsides of the town, and by ten in the evening a steady rain was falling and we still had found no sign of the escapees.

  “By God unbelievable,” Chastain said as we walked back into the office. “I just don’t see how they got out without some swinging dick seeing ’em?”

  “It damn sure happened,” I said.

  “Damn sure did,” Chastain said, taking off his slicker and hanging it on the back of his chair.

  “They had to have got out and gone early.”

  Virgil didn’t say anything as he set his Winchester in the gun rack by the door, then took off his slicker and hung it on a nail by the rack. I removed my long coat, too, and hung it next to Virgil’s.

  “I could have swore by now someone would have something,” Chastain said.

  Virgil turned back and looked out onto the street. After a second he leaned on the doorjamb.

  Book walked in from the cell hall.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey, Book,” Chastain said.

  Virgil glanced back.

  “Anything?” Book said.

  Chastain shook his head.

  “Nope,” he said. “’Fraid not.”

  “Well,” Book said, “I been right here, like you said for me to do. I told everybody to keep looking until midnight and not to come back here until then and we’d regroup . . .”

  Chastain nodded and dropped in the chair behind his desk.

  “Coffee?” Book said. “Just made it.”

  Virgil glanced back and nodded.

  “Sure, Book,” he said.

  Book poured us all a cup.

  “Did you see the Denver lawmen out there tonight?” Book said.

  “We did not,” I said. “Why?”

  Virgil looked back.

  “Just thought you might have seen them, they got themselves mounted, some of them, anyway. They stopped by here. There were four of them on horseback that came by, including Chief Messenger. Not sure where they procured the horses, but they have them. I believe the only one missing was the DA, Payne.”

  “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.”

  69.

  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.