“Well, no, Everett,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “Actually, I don’t know... I don’t know anyone in my family. I never have and I never will.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” I said.
“Not your fault, Everett,” she said. “They just left, most of them I never, ever even knew, they all just sort of petered out of my life, nobody wanted me and I was left all alone.”
“Well,” Virgil said. “You’re not alone anymore.”
“First all this horrible trial stuff... and now this...”
Allie shook her head a little and walked away to the other side of the porch and stared out into the darkness. After a moment she lowered her head and started to sob.
60
It was a full moon out as I climbed the stairs to my room above the survey office. It was hot and the two windows to my small room were open, but there was little breeze.
I took off my clothes and lay back on the bed. I thought about the last few days and how it was all coming together. About the Denver contingent, as Valentine referred to them. I thought about Black and how adamant he was, how demanding he was about the fact he was not the killer.
How Juniper was upset that he did not have a chance to fully cross-examine LaCroix. Juniper pleaded with the judge, but his request was denied. I agreed with Juniper’s appeal, but it would be hard to fulfill his demand, given the fact that LaCroix’s jaw was broken and he was not able to even open his mouth to speak.
Juniper appealed with the judge, insisting, saying LaCroix could respond with written word, but the judge would hear no more, not after Black’s outburst, and Black was headed for the gallows.
I kept wondering about all of it, the trial, about the Denver men, about Roger and Ruth Ann Messenger and Boston Bill Black, about Daphne actually being engaged to Black in the past, and I thought about the painter, Lawrence LaCroix, and what he testified he saw that day.
I sat up, wondered if sleep was going to happen. At half midnight I got tired of lying there so I got up. I put on my trousers, poured a whiskey, then opened the door and stepped out on the balcony. From somewhere in the evening I heard some music from one of the saloons on 5th Street. Then I looked down at the bottom of the steps and saw a figure in the dark.
“Everett?” she said. “It’s me...”
“Daphne?”
“Yes. May I come up?”
“Sure.”
I thought for a moment how she found me, then I remembered we walked by and I pointed the place out to her the night we were out on our walk. When she got to the top of the steps she practically fell into my arms.
“Oh, Everett.”
“Come in.”
I closed the door behind her and she reached up and pulled my head down and kissed me.
She kissed me hard. Then she kissed me on my cheeks and neck as if she were starving. I was without my shirt and she kissed my chest over and over, then looked up to me.
“I was sorry not to take you in when you came,” she said.
“That’s all right,” I said.
“For the most part,” she said, “I have been consoling Mr. Pritchard.”
“I understand.”
“Oh my God, Everett,” she said.
“I know this is difficult,” I said.
“What is so alarming for us is to learn that he... he... actually did this,” she said. “That he in fact actually murdered that woman, that he is a murderer.”
“I know.”
“Is there anything we can do for him?” she said.
“Not that I can see,” I said. “No.”
She shook her head and turned away from me.
“It’s like... like this is just a bad dream,” she said. “But it is not, it’s just a living nightmare.”
She turned back to me.
“Do you have anything to drink?” she said. “Any alcohol, whiskey or something?”
“I do.”
“Please, thank you,” she said. “I have been nothing but a ball of nerves.”
I poured her some whiskey and she drank it down in one gulp. She held out her glass and I poured her another one.
“Easy,” I said.
She sipped the whiskey a little, then looked to my bed.
“May I sit, please?”
“Yes, of course.”
I removed my shirt from the bed and she sat. She looked down at the glass clutched in her hand, then she drank the whiskey as if she were trying to kill something inside.
I started to put on my shirt, but she reached out and stopped me.
“No,” she said. “Please...”
She removed the shirt from my grip, tossed it on the floor, and pulled me close to her. She kissed my stomach gently, from one side to the other. Then she looked up to me and undid the buttons on my trousers.
61
I rode Ajax by the Gallows Door Cantina and Eloise stepped out from the shadows of the three-sided lean-to and waved to me as I passed. I continued on toward the gallows where the crowd was gathered to watch the hanging of Boston Bill Black. I did not see Virgil, Valentine, or Allie, or Chastain or Book, but the Denver contingent was there: Detective Lieutenant Banes, Detective Sergeant King, Captain McPherson, District Attorney Payne, and Roger Messenger’s father, Chief Brady. They were all present, expectant, and waiting.
Everyone watched me as I rode up, dismounted, tied off Ajax, and climbed the gallows steps. The executioner was atop the structure, wearing a black hood along with two local ministers. Both I recognized, but I didn’t know either one’s name. We all said our how-do-you-dos and I stepped up to the noose and gave it a tug. I looked up to the rope draped over the gallows’ top beam and turned to the executioner.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
The executioner nodded his head slowly, walked over to me, and put the noose around my neck. I looked into his eyes; all I could see were his eyes. He slipped the noose around my neck, then walked to the lever and pulled it. But it did not work. He kept working the lever back and forth, then... the rhythm of the lever was replaced by a knock on my door... followed by...
“Everett?”
I sat up in my bed...
“Everett?”
I looked around and could tell by the light it was the earliest part of daybreak. Daphne was sound asleep under my arm, and I eased myself out of the bed so as not to wake her and opened the door.
It was Deputy Book. He saw Daphne behind me in the bed and kind of lowered his head and took a step back.
“Sorry,” he said with a whisper.
“Give me a sec,” I said.
I put on my trousers, then stepped out the door.
“What is it?” I said, closing the door behind me.
“Bill Black,” he said. “He escaped and took Truitt Shirley with him.”
“Are you... what?”
“They are out, Everett,” Book said.
“Anybody hurt?”
“No,” Book said.
“How the hell did this happen?” I said.
“Looks like Black pried the bars from the window,” Book said.
“What?”
Book nodded sharply.
“The strong sonofabitch pulled up the iron railings of his bunk that were bolted to the floor.”
“You sure he didn’t have help?” I said.
“Don’t know for a fact, but it does not seem like it, Everett,” Book said. “You just have to see for yourself.”
“I’ll be goddamn.”
“I know,” Book said. “I could not believe it. Just up and gone like that.”
“Chastain and Virgil know?” I said.
“I came to get you first,” Book said.
“When was this?”
“Well, I just this minute found out, so I’m not sure, no idea, really,” Book said. “When I got in they were gone.”
“How the hell did Truitt get out?”
“Looks like the bars were bent out on the backside of Truitt’s, Black helping him, after he was free... Did the same thing but from the backside. Both are gone.”