by Robert Knott
“Do you know if there were others she was doing the ‘obvious way’ with besides you?”
“I don’t know but I damn sure would not put it past her . . . but I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“’Cause she was obsessed with me.”
“Do you think perhaps it could have been her husband that murdered her?”
“Well . . . ya know,” Black said with a sarcastic tone, “it damn sure could have been.”
“Do you know if he ever hurt her? Physically?”
“Not that I know of, no . . . But being around her for any length of time would make most men want to do something to her physically, that is how she liked it. Don’t think she was comfortable unless there were chips on the table. Taller the stack the better, and now that I think about it, the more players the better. Maybe there were others like me that had anted up.”
“But did she say anything, did you learn anything specifically about her husband, in respect to you?”
“She told me he was mad as hell. She played him, I’m sure, like she was playing me. She’s a sharp if I ever saw one.”
“What else did she tell you about him.”
Black shook his head.
“Nothing, really . . . other than she said he was not the type to do anything about it.”
“The following day, after her murder, you left Denver?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know she was murdered, then? It was not until many days later her body was discovered.”
“Well, I am just . . . I don’t know, assuming.”
“For your sake and mine, Mr. Black, let’s avoid assumptions altogether.”
Black nodded.
“When was the last time you saw Ruth Ann?”
“The night of the argument,” Black said. “At the Bloom’s Inn?”
“Bloom’s Inn?”
“Yes,” he said. “Where I was staying.”
“What happened, did she just walk out? When and where exactly did you last have eyes on Ruth Ann?”
“That night, we argued. I told her to leave. She was angry as hell and she stormed out.”
“What time?”
He shook his head.
“I say about eleven o’clock in the evening.”
“And you never saw her again?”
“No.”
“You are certain?”
“Yes.”
“Did she leave out the front door or the rear door of the inn?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “She left my upstairs room and that was the last I saw of her.”
Juniper glanced to us then looked back to Black.
“Then, the following day you departed Denver, for . . . where?”
“Here,” he said. “To get ready for the opening of the new hall here.”
Juniper looked at his notes.
“But you were in Las Vegas prior, were you not?”
“Well, yes, I had a few weeks in between, some time off, I had been working nonstop for a long time and I like Vegas, I have friends there, and yes, I was there.”
“And that is where you met with Truitt Shirley and Ricky Ravenfield?”
“Yes.”
“And you hired them?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I felt, I knew, my life was in danger.”
“Danger from whom?”
“There was a bounty on my head.”
“How did you know this?”
“I received a wire from Denver that Ruth Ann had been murdered and I was the prime suspect and that the chief of police had put a bounty on my head.”
Black looked to Virgil and me.
“I’ve been in this part of the country for a long time,” Black said. “I’ve spent a good amount of time elsewhere, Saint Louis, Frisco, Boston, and the like, but I know these parts . . . Santa Fe, Las Cruces, New Mexico. And I know about bounty hunters and I knew I was being set up.”
“Set up?”
“Yes, somebody was out to get me,” he said. “Ruth Ann’s husband, his father, I don’t know exactly, but somebody.”
“So you hired Truitt and Ricky?”
“I did.”
Juniper jotted down a few notes, then nodded, looking at his notepad for a moment. He looked back to Virgil and me, then looked back to Black.
“It would be a good idea if you spiffed up a bit for the proceedings,” Juniper said. “Not too much, but some. I will see to it you have your proper clothing and grooming supplies.”
Black nodded.
“Thank you . . .”
Juniper got to his feet and turned for the door, but then turned back to Black.
“One more thing . . .”
“Yes?” Black said.
“Who was it that told you you were the prime suspect in this murder and that there was a bounty on your head? How did you find that out?”
“One of Mr. Pritchard’s employees sent me a wire.”
“Who?”
“Ms. Angel,” he said. “Daphne Angel.”
49.
The trial for Truitt Shirley was placed on the docket behind Boston Bill’s and the owners of the inn where Boston Bill had been staying in Denver at the time Ruth Ann was murdered were brought in to testify, as well as the young man that found Ruth Ann’s body near the river.
Also in from Denver was Roger Messenger’s father, the chief of police, Brady Messenger, and the two officers that previously had come to Appaloosa, Detectives Claude Banes and Sherman King, also arrived for the proceedings. Along with this group, there remained the police captain, G. W. McPherson, and the district attorney, Eldon Payne.
Payne introduced Virgil, Valentine, and me to Chief Messenger. He was not big like his son. The chief was a small, wiry man with an intensity that made him seem as if he were twice his size.
“Gentlemen,” he said.
His voice was quivering, his eyes were shifty, and his demeanor in general was unstable. He was also obviously very angry.
“I will be glad when this is over.”
He looked up to Valentine and squinted.
“Valentine?” he said. “You must be the hunter that apprehended this animal?”
“I am,” Valentine said.
The chief nodded.
“I’m most appreciative,” he said. “Money well spent.”
He looked to me, then Virgil, and shook his head.
“We will make damn certain this execution happens without fail,” he said. “I won’t leave here until that happens and this degenerate dreg is dead and gone.”
Then he moved on with the rest of the Denver lawmen.
“The Denver contingent,” Valentine said under his breath to Virgil. “Got more goddamn Denver police here in Appaloosa than Appaloosa police in Appaloosa.”
“Do,” Virgil said.
“What do you figure is the reason for that, brother Marshal?” Valentine said.
Virgil shook his head.
“Not very interested in the justice system,” I said. “That’s a fact.”
“Don’t seem so,” Virgil said.
“Something does not add up in all this,” Valentine said.
The three of us, Virgil, Valentine, and I, sat in the back row of the packed courthouse, where we waited on Judge Callison’s arrival. Callison was swift when he got to the job at hand, but he had no problem taking his time getting to the bench.
Boston Bill Black was next to Chastain and Book up front. He sat tall in his chair, looking far better than he had when we saw him previously in his cell. His mustache was now black without the gray roots and he was clean-shaven, with his salt-and-pepper hair oiled and combed back. He was wearing a dark suit with polished shoes.
Allie was sitt
ing with the ladies of her social. She was fanning herself with the Chinese fan Valentine brought to her with all the other stuff when he came to dinner. She looked back to us then got up and came over to where we were sitting.
“It is already thirty-five minutes past the time this thing was supposed to start,” Allie said. “What in the world is that ol’ coot making everybody wait for.”
“It’s what he likes to do. Like always,” I said, “likes to make people wait.”
“Just his way of letting everybody know who’s in charge,” Virgil said.
“Well, I sure wish he’d get on with it,” she said. “I’m already getting hungry.”
With that, Allie sashayed away, fanning herself as she walked back to where she was previously sitting.
After another five minutes Judge Callison came out and wasted no time putting things in motion. He called the defense and prosecution to the bench and said a few things to each of them that were out of earshot, then quickly got into hearing testimony from both sides.
Because the Denver DA, Eldon Payne, was not allowed by law to practice outside of Colorado, they contracted Dickie Simmons, the other fine attorney besides Juniper practicing in Appaloosa, as the prosecuting attorney.
Simmons was a tall, narrow man with thick tangled eyebrows that had a hard time filling out his dark suit, but he was a scrappy contender when it came time to do his job, and he did it well.
The prosecution first called the young man to the stand that had found Ruth Ann Messenger’s body in the shallow waters of the South Platte.
Simmons did a masterly job of making the young fella describe in horrific detail how he literally stumbled across the maggot-infested, waterlogged, and badly beaten body of Ruth Ann Messenger. Juniper Jones objected for what seemed to be a solid hour until Callison told him to sit down and shut up.
The defense led by Juniper was thin, but he started by cross-examining the young man who found the body, only to give the jury some understanding that the boy was not an expert, and also not very bright, and before Juniper was done with the boy he was nearly in tears.
Next up were the owners of the inn where Boston Bill was staying the night Ruth Ann was murdered. They were an older married couple named Bloom and their testimony of hearing Bill Black and Ruth Ann arguing the night Ruth Ann went missing and then later finding blood on the back steps brought a gasp in the courtroom, followed by a hush.
Juniper weighed in with a volley of objections, exclaiming that none of what was being said was in any way substantial evidence. Juniper eventually got his opportunity to cross-examine the couple that owned the inn and did little to dissuade anyone from what seemed to be pointed, yet without question circumstantial, evidence.
Juniper spared calling Daphne but called Hollis Pritchard and Charles Lemley, Pritchard’s construction foreman, to the stand.
Each of them had nothing but good things to say about Boston Bill Black, but both men were attacked by Simmons, who was doing everything in his power to discredit their credibility. Simmons was ineffective, however, as Pritchard and Charles Lemley proved to be in every way unflappable.
Juniper also did a good job of keeping the focus off the victim and on the prosecution’s lack of evidence.
After an afternoon recess, Denver detective sergeant Sherman King entered the proceedings, stood in the center aisle, and asked Judge Callison if he could approach the bench.
After some pointed questioning, Callison granted him the request, and after King spoke with the judge, the judge called for both the prosecution and defense to approach. King, Dickie Simmons, and Juniper Jones all spoke quietly with the judge, and after a moment the judge shook his head a little.
We could not hear the conversation, but afterward Judge Callison slowly got to his feet, which prompted the bailiff to call out, “All rise.”
Everyone got to their feet.
“This court is adjourned,” Judge Callison said. “We will reconvene tomorrow at ten o’clock sharp . . . or thereabout.”
He banged his gavel, stepped down, and exited out the door behind him.
50.
After the court adjourned, Chastain, Book, Virgil, and I stood with Bill Black and Juniper in the court’s holding room. Black began to pace when Juniper told him there was a new development in the case. A witness had come forward and the prosecution asked that they recess until the witness could be vetted, vexed, and delivered.
Book and Chastain were next to the wall behind Black and Virgil, and I stood behind Juniper, watching Black pace. He was furious, and it was obvious this news was deeply disturbing to him. Juniper just stood there looking up, watching intently as the monstrous Black, who was twice the size of Juniper, moved to the left, then to the right. After a few turns Black stopped and looked down at Juniper.
“This is bullshit,” Black said.
“Well, regardless,” Juniper said. “Whether it is bullshit or not—”
“It is,” Black said interrupting.
“Yes, well,” Juniper said. “Unfortunately, it’s bullshit in the form of a human being who is coming with damning evidence.”
“Who?” Black said.
Juniper shook his head.
“The pesky young Detective King didn’t, wouldn’t, say,” Juniper said. “And the judge did not press him on it.”
Black started to pace again, moving back and forth in the small room. He jerked off his jacket and threw it over the back of a chair.
“Obviously we will know who and what will be said by whom tomorrow,” Juniper said.
Black shook his head.
“So,” Juniper said, “I have to ask you. Do you wish to reconsider your position here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that.”
“You mean do I want to confess?”
Juniper did not answer. He just looked up at Black without blinking and without expression.
“I goddamn do not,” Black said.
“Okay,” Juniper said.
“I will not,” Black said. “I will hang first.”
“There is that,” Juniper said.
“I cannot believe this is happening to me,” Black said.
“It is,” Juniper said. “So tell me . . .”
Juniper was making his push to see just what Black was really about, what he was made of.
“If this is a matter of pride, you need to let that go,” Juniper said.
“Pride?” Black said. “What do you mean?”
“She was threatening you,” Juniper said. “Wasn’t she?”
“Goddamn right she was,” Black said.
“What was she threatening about, exactly?”
“I told you she wanted to be with me.”
“What else?”
Black shook his head.
“All kinds of nonsense.”
“Per se?”
“I told you she was crazy.”
“What else did she threaten you with?”
Black shook his head. Then he dropped onto a chair.
“I told you, at first when I met her I had no idea she was married.”
Juniper nodded.
Black looked at Virgil and me.
“Go on,” Juniper said.
“And we went about town doing this and doing that.”
“She encouraged it, getting out, not being discreet?”
Black nodded.
“Yes, she acted as though she did not have a care in the world. Then, when I was starting to not see her as much, she got desperate.”
“How so?”
Black got silent for a moment. “She wanted to cling on to me,” he said. “Like I told you before.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I didn’t do anythi
ng . . . I just got tired of her.”
“You tell her that?”
“Not really, no, but my interest in her was less than it had been and she knew it.”
“She didn’t like that, I suspect.”
“No,” he said. “She did not.”
“What did you do, Mr. Black?” Juniper said.
“I told you, nothing.”
“What did she do?”
“That was when she told me she was married and not just a separated woman.”
Black looked at his hands and worked them together for a moment.
“She also told me that when her husband found out about us it was because she told him she was seeing me, wanting to be with me, and that he was a lawman.”
Black shook his head and stared at the floor.
“She also threatened to tell her father-in-law, the chief of the goddamn police, that I raped her, that I forced her.”
“And you were angry with her?”
Black laughed.
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“You were?”
“Hell yes,” Black said. “But . . .”
“What?” Juniper said.
Black looked at Juniper with a stern expression on his face.
“I did not kill her.”
“Then who did?”
“I told you I don’t know.”
Juniper did not say anything.
Black looked at Virgil. He did not look at anyone else but Virgil and pointed out to the streets.
“They, someone, is out to get me,” he said. “I don’t know who or why exactly, the old man or someone is covering up for her husband or somebody I don’t know. Maybe Ruth Ann was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you have to believe me.”
“No,” Virgil said. “I don’t have to do anything. Nobody else here does, either, but there is a jury and a judge that will most certainly have to decide your fate.”
Black stared at Virgil.
51.
Chastain and Book left through the rear door of the courthouse and escorted Black back to the jail.
“What do you allow, Juniper?” Virgil said as we walked out through the now-empty courtroom with Juniper.
“I allow I could use a drink,” he said.
“Kind of early to go waving the flag, don’t you think, Juniper?” I said.
