“I am sorry, Virgil,” he said.
He looked over to Virgil. Virgil was looking at him. Valentine looked away, back toward the sunset.
“I regret the day I left you and Mother.”
I looked over at Virgil. He didn’t look at me or say anything. He was looking at Valentine, who was looking away.
“I know I made things hard for her by leaving you two,” Valentine said. “And then getting myself in trouble all the time, doing the things I did, I know... made her... ashamed of me, and that has never settled well with me, Virgil... never.”
He looked back to Virgil. Virgil was looking down now, and he did not look up and meet Valentine’s eyes.
“Not everything I did was ignoble and dishonorable,” Valentine said. “I know it seemed that way.”
Valentine turned and walked back to the porch. He stood at the bottom of the steps, looking at Virgil.
“I missed her... and you, but I knew if I stayed there he would have killed me. I think he saw so much of himself in me that it made him angry. I thought in some way if I was not there, things might be easier for her, and you... most likely I was wrong about that.”
Valentine put a boot on the bottom step.
“I suppose I could have stayed, should have stayed to be there for her, and you. But I would have shot and killed him... And in hindsight that might have been the thing to do, the noble and honorable thing to do.”
Allie lifted up the kitchen window and poked her head out.
“Hey, out there,” she said. “It’s suppertime.”
43
Allie had been taking some well-deserved cooking lessons from an elder woman with the ladies’ social and it was paying off. Her dinner that consisted of a chicken, potatoes, carrots, and bread was nicely prepared and tasty.
After we ate I helped Allie remove the dishes and reset the table for dessert.
Valentine’s fine red wine and prior reflection on the past had softened Virgil some. At least for the moment, the combination of the two allowed Virgil a bit of breathing room in respect to his forbearance that previously had been less than tolerable.
The talk during dinner was dedicated for the most part to the country and its changing times. We discussed everything from silver mining to time zones, to the ever-expanding rail system, the U.S. Mail, and the chain-stitch single-thread sewing machine.
It was not until we polished off Allie’s apple pie and poured the after dinner liqueur did we discuss the courtroom proceedings we sat through earlier in the day.
“That all went so fast today,” Allie said. “I hardly knew what happened.”
“Callison is a no-nonsense judge,” Valentine said.
“That he is,” Virgil said.
“Did not take him long to decide,” I said.
“No,” Virgil said, “it didn’t.”
“I think I know what happened, but all that legal gibberish got me confused there toward the end.”
“Trial is set,” I said. “It, too, will happen quick, Callison will move it right along.”
“Well, I can’t believe that ol’ Judge Callison, though,” Allie said. “The ol’ coot.”
“Why is that?” Virgil said.
“Well,” she said, “it did not seem to me, nor any of the women, smart women, I might add, from my social that were there with me today, that there was enough evidence in this case to bring Boston Bill to trial.”
“I don’t think he had much of a choice, Allie,” Virgil said.
“No,” I said. “He did not.”
“It was a preliminary, Allie,” Virgil said. “That supported the warrant and the fact that Boston Bill was on the run and Val apprehended him, and the fact that he is the prime suspect and there are no other suspects at this time other than her husband, who is dead, the trial will be in order.”
“It does not mean he is guilty,” Allie said.
“No,” Virgil said. “It does not.”
“Also, there have to be other suspects,” Allie said. “You can’t just say because they were having... relations... that Bill and her husband are the only suspects.”
“I don’t disagree with you, Allie,” Valentine said. “I was saying that before.”
“Thank you, Valentine,” she said.
“Does seem like the prosecution has some ace up their sleeve,” I said.
“A vendetta in the making,” Valentine said.
“They are confident, it seems,” Virgil said.
“Callison,” I said, “was not about to let them get what they want without the prosecution bringing in the witnesses and material evidence.”
“The promise to provide witnesses with testimony that they felt would seal the deal,” Valentine said, “is what most certainly persuaded the good judge.”
“Now what?” Allie said.
“Callison won’t waste any time,” Virgil said.
“Soon as the witnesses arrive, the trial will get under way,” I said.
“Do you think he did it?” Allie said. “Do you think Boston Bill killed that Denver woman?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“What was described sounded just awful,” Allie said. “That poor, poor woman.”
“It did,” I said.
“I can relate to her,” Allie said. “It’s confusing for a woman in this country. This is a man’s world, and without a man, a woman has few resources to work with, to ply her trade.”
That thought settled across the table for a moment, then Valentine said with an uplifting tone, “Most assuredly, Allie.”
She smiled, removed her napkin from her lap, and placed it on the table.
“Well, then,” she said with a chirp in her voice that was meant to change the direction of the conversation. “Enough of that sort of rigmarole. How about a recital?”
“That would be lovely,” Valentine said.
Virgil looked to me as Allie got up from the table and walked to the piano.
“Any requests?” she said.
She paused and turned back to the three of us sitting at the table.
“Valentine,” she said. “I can’t play that many by heart, I only know a few, but I can read music.”
“Whatever your heart’s desire, Allie,” he said. “Whatever your heart’s desire.”
44
Virgil was getting more and more comfortable with Valentine. I was not sure if he would ever be completely at ease with him, but there was at least a growing feeling that there was enough space for the two of them in the same room. After Allie’s fifth tune, I excused myself and left Virgil, Valentine, and Allie and walked to the Colcord Hotel. Earlier in the day after the preliminary hearing I had a chat with Daphne Angel that concluded with a proposal from me that we get together after my scheduled dinner, and she agreed.
When I stepped into the lobby of the Colcord and went to the bar in the dining area, our designated meeting place, Daphne was nowhere to be seen. The place was empty except for an older couple sitting at a corner. They looked to be having a romantic moment, giggling as if they were youngsters. I bought a beer at the bar, then stepped out the door and onto the back porch. I walked over to the railing and looked off out into the darkness beyond the spilling light of the hotel, and for some reason I thought about Ruth Ann Messenger, about what really happened to her. The details that were presented during the preliminary hearing came to mind, about how she was discovered with her clothes ripped off her body and how badly she had been beaten.
Who could have done this, I thought, and why?