“When it started up with Bill she flaunted it and shit. That was hard on Roger, you can imagine.”
King looked to Banes and said harshly under his breath, “Sir...”
Banes continued without acknowledging King.
“Rumor is Boston Bill tried to break it off with Ruth Ann, but she had different ideas. She wanted to leave Roger. Anyway, she leaves Roger, so the story goes, and Roger starts to drinking and then he gets his ass kicked off of the force.”
“And Ruth Ann?” Virgil said. “What happened to her?”
“Next thing you know, Ruth Ann ends up missing. Then two weeks go by, then Ruth Ann is found down by the South Platte behind the inn where Bill Black was staying, facedown in a foot of water. She’d been beaten, brutally murdered.”
“Any witnesses?”
Banes nodded.
“Folks, the owners of the inn, heard him, Boston Bill, and Ruth Ann arguing in the middle of the night, the night before Bill left Denver.”
“But no eyewitness?”
“Not directly, but all indicators point to... Black,” he said. “There was blood found on the back steps.”
“Who found her?” I said.
“Some kids who were fishing,” he said.
“How could you tell after that long a time what had happened to her?” I said. “That she had been beaten? Hard to believe no coyotes and other varmint got to her.”
“She was in shallow water, a bunch of green river weed wrapped around her, when the kid found her. When the officers got there to the riverbank and pulled her from the water she was still intact. She was brought in, looked at carefully.”
“And?” I said.
“She had a number of cuts on her body,” Banes said. “Looked like a blow to the head is what did her in. Hard to say, she could have been held down in the shallow water and drowned, for all we know. But it was her, it was Ruth Ann, and she was killed.”
Detective Sergeant King lowered his head as if he’d been defeated.
“You and Roger friends?” Virgil said.
Banes sat stoic as he looked at Virgil a bit, then nodded.
“Yes.”
“What he ever say to you about any of this?”
“Nothing.”
“Roger ever a suspect in Ruth Ann’s murder?” I said.
Banes looked at me.
“It was discussed,” he said.
“By who?” I said.
“All of us.”
“What do you think?”
Banes stared at me for a long moment.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“He had to be mad as hell at her. Fact, he even said to me he’d like to see her dead for making a fool out of him like she did... I suppose I would not have put it past him.”
“So what do you figure?” Virgil said.
Banes nodded a little, then shook his head. He glanced to his detective partner before he spoke.
“I’d most likely put my money on Roger as the killer of his wife, Ruth Ann.”
The young detective reacted liked he’d been shot and said with volume and precise, sharp, emphatic words, “Bill Black is the murderer of Ruth Ann Messenger... and he is a wanted man. He is on the run. And his warrant is supported by evidence and not hearsay. And not you or anyone else outside of the court of law can hypothetically go putting money on it.”
“I can hypothetically do what the sam-hell I want to do,” Banes said, looking sternly at his partner, but then he nodded a little. “But I can also say... you might be right.”
“There is no doubt,” King said.
“Oh, there is always doubt in this line of work,” Banes said. “Always... even when it involves friends, family, and loved ones. Always. It’s just how it is.”
“But if Roger did do it,” I said, “why would he come here and see to it that Bill be arrested?”
“Retribution, maybe, get back at him for the humiliation, hell, I don’t know.”
Banes shook his head.
“Roger was a good policeman. Honest, fair, and he believed in the law and that every man deserved his day in court, including Boston Bill, I guess... He did everything by the book... but a man can be pushed only so far.”
Chastain had been working on a plug the whole conversation, and now spit it into a spittoon by his desk and said, “Then you got to ask yourself, Why would Bill take off like he did if he didn’t do it?”
“Don’t know,” Banes said.
Chastain worked the plug a bit.
“Men do get jumpy,” he said, “when they are wanted.”
Banes nodded.
“Also,” he said, “I think at some point Bill realized, maybe not until Roger come upon him, maybe before, that he stepped into a big pile of shit when he started up with Ruth Ann. She was really something to look at, but, well, Ruth Ann brought with her a damn rat’s nest full of trouble.”
“What about the warrant?” Virgil said.
“Not sure of all the particulars, but it was standard. Once information came in, all of it pointing to Black, the chief issued the warrant.”
“Chief suspect Roger, too?”
Banes was quiet for a moment, then...
“I can’t say... but the warrant was drawn up for Bill Black.”
Banes looked to King, then back to Virgil.
“There you have it,” Banes said.
“What about the reward money?” Virgil said.
Banes glanced to King again, then back to me.
“That was offered by the chief, too.”
Virgil looked at me and squinted a little.
“Why all the fuss about confidential,” I said.
“Roger Messenger,” Banes said. “Is the son... of our beloved chief of police.”
29
Within a few days Roger Messenger died of the gunshot wound he received from Truitt Shirley, and Truitt was subsequently charged with his murder.
The day after Messenger died, Detectives Banes and King returned to Denver with his body. The fact that it was anyone’s guess as to the whereabouts of Boston Bill at this point in time left the two officers no real choice other than to move along and wait and see if a law official or bounty hunter was lucky enough to apprehend him.
Skinny Jack, too, had a proper funeral. He was buried alongside his mother, who he had taken care of during a long, drawn-out illness and had passed away one year to the day Skinny Jack was killed.
After the funeral, Allie, Virgil, and I sat at a table near the bar, where Virgil and I were drinking mugs of cool beer and Allie was sipping on a glass of Irish whiskey.
“Just awful,” Allie said.
“Nice funeral, though,” Virgil said.
“Was,” I said.
“I am just so sick about it, though,” Allie said.
“Me, too, Allie,” I said. “Me, too.”
“And to think he was killed exactly a year after his poor, sick ol’ momma’s passing away is just, well, it’s just as sad as can be. He was so young and sweet. He had no business being a deputy lawperson, none whatsoever.”
“It was his job, Allie.”
“I don’t care, it is sad and wrong.”
“He was a good man, Allie, and I share your deepest sympathy, but he liked the job he did and he was good at it.”
“Well, it is just terrible, and to think that skinny young boy took such care of his poor, sick ol’ momma like he did for as long as he did and now this. Just is not fair.”
Virgil nodded.
“Not much is fair, Allie.”
“That could have been you,” Allie said.
“It wasn’t,” Virgil said.
“And then what on earth would have become of me, can you tell me that?”
“Well, we don’t have to think about that, Allie.”
“We do have to think about it, Virgil.”
We’d been through this before with Allie. Many times. It was like a burr under her saddle. She would be doing fine until there was an incident that got her imagination churned up and she imagined things she had no control over.