Robert B. Parker's Revelation

by Robert Knott

  “Dear God,” he said, then continued to read the letter. “‘First off, please know, I have appreciated your patience with me. In some ways you were more of a father figure to me than my own father ever was. I have the utmost respect for you. I learned a great deal from you and would have liked nothing more than to make you proud of me. Regardless, I should have seen this coming with Eleanor and done something about it, but I had no earthly idea something of this magnitude, this drastic, could have happened. Nonetheless, it is now too late. I knew it would be only a matter of time before authorities would be here and I knew any day, you or someone would be coming to the house and paying me a visit. The fact of the matter is, I can’t face the truth of this, sir. It is unbearable and humiliating beyond compare.’”

  Tillary was having a hard time with his sight, his emotions, and his shaking hands. He handed the letter to me.

  “Would you mind?” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  I took the letter and continued.

  “Let’s see . . .” I said. “‘Therefore I feel it imperative that I provide some underlying detail of this dishonoring dismay. I am nothing but ashamed of myself. I simply could not face my family over this spectacle. I think you know mistakes and weakness have plagued the better part of my life. I thought by taking on this remote job and marrying Eleanor, a woman of stature, of principle, would prove to my father that once and for all I was a solid man with promise who was standing on firm footing. It was, however, only a short amount of time after marrying Eleanor that I realized there was no way in hell I would hang on to her. At first she could not see through me, see my weakness. In the beginning she was blinded by my pedigree and unfortunate good looks. Good looks that I got from my father, no less, but her fascination with me quickly faded. I am only my father’s son and nothing more. She never let on in public, to you or anyone else, that she was disillusioned. At least I don’t think she did, but here, behind closed doors, it was another matter. I masked my consumption of alcohol as much as I could, but I’m certain it’s no shock to you that I have drunk myself to sleep every night for the last year.’”

  I looked up to Tillary. He met my eye, then looked to Virgil and nodded a little.

  “‘This next bit of information,’” I read, “‘however, most certainly will come as a shock to you and most, Mr. Tillary: Eleanor was responsible for the men escaping from prison.’”

  Tillary swiveled his head like he’d been slapped.

  “What?” he said.

  I stopped reading and looked to Virgil and Tillary staring at me.

  “My God,” Tillary said. “What? That’s insane. Nonsense . . . What in God’s name is he talking about? I’m sorry . . . Please continue.”

  Tillary, looking as if he was about to pass out, dropped into a chair next to the wall as I continued to read.

  “‘She also took all the money. Twenty-five thousand dollars I had in my safe. She took my best guns and two of my finest horses, but most important, she took the last bits and pieces of my heart and certainly my pride . . . The following is what I believe was the sequence of events.’”

  I stopped reading out loud and read a bit to myself. Then I looked to Virgil and shook my head some.

  “‘I was passed out when this happened. I believe she got my key and released Donnie Lonnigan from the Tomb.’”

  “Donnie Lonnigan,” Tillary said. “My God. Seriously?”

  I nodded, looking at Tillary.

  “Fucking Donnie Lonnigan!” he said, shaking his head.

  I continued to read. “‘I am not certain how the other men from compound C escaped, but she let Lonnigan out, set him free, of that I am sure. The events that followed I am, however, unsure about, but I knew in my pitiful heart that she was enamored and in love with Donnie Lonnigan. Last, please tell my family that I love them and that I thank them for all they have done for me and that I am truly sorry, Sincerely, Scholes Flushing the Third.’”

  I looked to Tillary, then to Virgil.

  “Good God,” Tillary said.

  44

  Tillary was hit hard by this news. He said nothing as he gathered some rags and went about the task of cleaning up the mess that Scholes Flushing had made of himself. After Tillary cleaned the blood off of Scholes’s face and hands, we helped him get Scholes into a fresh shirt, then laid him out on the long table and covered his body with a bedsheet.

  “I’ll get some of the men to gather him and we’ll get him back to his family right away,” Tillary said, then shook his head in disbelief. “They will be devastated.”

  “You have any idea about his wife,” Virgil said. “About her having a liking for the inmate?”

  “In hindsight,” Tillary said, “maybe.”

  “How so?”

  Tillary shook his head.

  “I’d say I don’t believe it. But the fact of the matter is I do believe it, or better said, it seems as though I have to believe it.”

  “Why do you say that?” Virgil said.

  “She started a Bible study program for the inmates. Giving them Bibles and so on.”

  “What do you mean by ‘so on’?”

  “She would meet with them and talk with them about God.”

  Virgil looked to me and shook his head a little.

  “Where?” he said.

  “How?” I said. “Not in their cells?”

  “Oh, no, outside of their cells, always escorted by a guard,” he said. “She was convinced, or convinced her husband, anyway, that there was need in the men’s lives for rehabilitation.”

  “She preach to them?” I said.

  “No. She would just talk with them. On Sundays a preacher comes through. Not all Sundays, but some. He comes and preaches to the men in the yard.”

  “All the men?”

  He shook his head.

  “Those that are interested in listening.”

  “And Mrs. Flushing was part of the service?”

  “Mrs. Flushing would lead the hymns.”

  “This Lonnigan was allowed to partake?”

  “Much to my dismay. Him and others. Believe me, it was something that I was dead set against, but she influenced Scholes and he did what she wanted. She had that way about her.”

  “What way, exactly?”

  Tillary shook his head.

  “There is something about Eleanor. She has that thing that makes men weak . . . especially Scholes, and she so . . . she gave off that air, you know?”

  Tillary stared at the floor for a moment like he was lost in thought.

  Virgil looked to me.

  “Air?” I said.

  “Oh, hell . . . I don’t know. Look, I liked her very much, and I looked at her like a daughter, really, and Scholes like a son, but her interest in God seemed, hell, I don’t know, less than genuine. She seemed more interested in getting attention from men, and she got a lot of it.”

  “But you did or did not see the connection or relationship with Lonnigan,” I said.

  “Not really, no . . . I didn’t. The thing is, when Scholes was in the yard and on duty I was not around. We alternated. On numerous occasions, however, when I returned I would find Lonnigan in the Tomb yet again and Scholes’s explanation was always the same. He had it coming. I asked the other guards and they told me that they had no idea why, but that they did what they were told to do.”

  Tillary picked up the wedding tintype of Scholes and Eleanor and looked at it sadly.

  “I thought she was here at the house,” Tillary said, shaking his head. “All these days since the escape I had no idea something like this had happened. I thought she was up here.”

  Tillary set the tintype back on the table and moved to the open back door and looked out across the expanse. He leaned against the doorjamb.

  “The thought never crossed my mind and Scholes let on nothing other than, well . . . like I mentioned,” Tillary said, turning back to us. “The few times I laid eyes on him he was a drunken mess and now I know why . . .”

 
Virgil picked up the tintype and looked at it closely. He studied it for a moment, then looked to Tillary.

  “This woman here,” Virgil said. “This is her, Mr. Tillary. This is Mrs. Flushing?”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “That’s Eleanor and Scholes, that is their wedding photograph.”

  Virgil looked at the tintype again for a long moment.

  “Everett,” he said, then removed his eyes from the tintype. “The woman here in the photo, Eleanor Flushing. She look familiar?”

  Virgil handed me the tintype and I looked closely at the woman.

  45

  I looked from the tintype to Virgil, then back to the tintype.

  “I’ll be goddamned,” I said.

  “What?” Tillary said.

  “He took Lonnigan’s name,” I said.

  Virgil looked to Tillary.

  “What?” Tillary said. “Who?”

  “Man I knew,” I said.

  “You got a photograph of Donnie Lonnigan?”

  “No,” Tillary said.

  “Describe him,” I said.

  After Tillary gave a detailed description of Donnie Lonnigan, Virgil looked to me.

  “Damn sure sounds like him,” Virgil said. “The fella you knew, that we saw.”

  “I’ll be damned,” I said.

  Tillary looked back and forth between Virgil and me with a frown on his face.

  “What?” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  “We believe we have seen him,” Virgil said.

  “Four days after the breakout,” I said.

  “With her?” Tillary said with a confused look on his face.

  I nodded.

  “Where?”

  “Appaloosa,” I said.

  “Better than a good chance that it is her, Eleanor,” Virgil said. “And him, Lonnigan.”

  “Appaloosa?” Tillary said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “Who took Lonnigan’s name?” Tillary said, narrowing his eyes.

  “Someone I knew a long time ago.”

  I looked to Virgil.

  “Why Appaloosa?” I said.

  Virgil shook his head a little.

  “Gotta be some reason,” Virgil said. “Otherwise he might just stay hiding.”

  “You sure?” Tillary said. “Appaloosa is a hell of a long way from here.”

  Virgil looked to me.

  “Damn straight,” I said. “Two names I know coming up from long ago seems better than a good chance.”

  Virgil nodded and looked to Tillary.

  “Where is the closest depot?”

  “San Cristóbal,” he said. “Due west, ’bout seventy miles.”

  “Getting out of here and getting to Appaloosa,” I said, “without a care in the world, looking like a refined, distinguished couple. Seems kind of bold and excessive, but who would ever consider them a convict and his accomplice.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “It is far enough away to start anew, though,” I said.

  “Scholes said they took his best horses,” Virgil said.

  “San Cristóbal’s a big place,” I said. “They rode there, bought fineries, sold the horses, or loaded the horses and left, took the train to Appaloosa.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Then again,” I said. “This could all be a bunch of something made out of nothing.”

  Virgil looked to me like he didn’t believe that notion any more than the conviction I used in saying it, but he obliged the moment for consideration.

  “The woman we saw was for certain older than this photograph of her in her wedding gown, though,” Virgil said.

  “How long ago was it they were married?” I said.

  “Four, maybe five years,” Tillary said.

  “So let me understand. In Appaloosa?” Tillary said. “You believe you saw Eleanor with him, with Lonnigan.”

  “His name is not Lonnigan,” I said.

  “What is his name?”

  “Gus Driggs. Augustus Noble Driggs,” I said.

  “You ever hear that name?” Virgil said.

  “No,” Tillary said.

  “Well,” Virgil said. “Not uncommon for criminals to change their names.”

  “No,” Tillary said with a scoff.

  “Especially when it’s a name of someone they know from their past that no longer existed,” I said.

  “Hell, no telling who is really who when it comes to the incarcerated.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ve damn sure seen that,” I said. “And I believe we are seeing it now.”

  Virgil nodded

  “Hell,” Tillary said, “half the time the crimes that criminals are accused of are lesser crimes than they committed while going by their given name. Crimes they want to be distant of. So they are more than willing to be someone else if they can get away with it.”

  “No telling what kind of life Driggs lived after I last saw him. Most likely not one without plenty of dead in his wake.”

  46

  “We fought together,” I said. “Like I mentioned, it was a long time ago, during the Indian Wars. Lonnigan, too. Lonnigan was lost in action, never found him or his body. The same thing happened to him that happened to a number of soldiers during those times. They ended up just gone.”

  “Driggs and Lonnigan obviously knew each other?” Virgil said.

  “They did,” I said.

  “And Driggs?”

  “Driggs’s situation was a far sight ’nother matter altogether. He was let go of his rank and command for killing. He’d be sent on a mission to round up Indians and they’d end up dead. Happened more than once. He enjoyed the killing. He was mad as hell when he was let go. He thought the other officers, including me, had turned him in. Fact of the matter was, the general knew all too well who Driggs was. He figured it’d be only a matter of time before his killing spree would end by getting himself killed. I kind of thought that’d be the case, too. I will say he was smart, graduated top of his class.”

  Tillary nodded.

  “Lonnigan was a smart fella,” he said. “No doubt about that, what so ever. Spent most of his time reading.”

  Virgil looked to Tillary.

  “How long was Lonnigan, or Driggs, locked up here in Cibola?” Virgil said.

  “He’d been here for four years but locked up for eight altogether. He was transferred here. He came in here in need of an operation. He was first sent to San Cristóbal for the surgery, then was transferred to here. The first six weeks here he spent most of the time chained to a bunk in the infirmary. Most likely where he met and developed a relationship with Eleanor. Though I don’t know that for certain, but that could very well be the case. If what Scholes believed to be true is in fact a reality.”

  “What was he locked up for at the other prison?” Virgil said.

  “Murder and robbery.”

  “You got a file on him?”

  “We do on Donnie Lonnigan,” Tillary said. “Providing Lonnigan and this Driggs you are talking about are one and the same, as you say. I can most likely tell you what you want to know, though. Know most every inmate’s history or the ostensible criminal history that led them to incarceration.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Well, Donnie Lonnigan is a powerful sonofabitch. Once he recovered fully after the surgery he became one of the most revered men here . . . Didn’t liked being locked up, though. Most of the men get used to it, but Lonnigan never did . . . Revered might not be the right word. Feared is the right word. Kept to himself, would spend most of his time exercising or reading books or newspapers. We let them read whatever we have to read—newspapers, books, and so forth. We encouraged reading here, a good distraction. The other inmates were scared of him . . . well, all but Ed Degraw. The other one you are after. Degraw is not afraid of anybody. Both Degraw and Lonnigan, or Driggs, or whoever the hell he is, are both kind of hell on earth, I guess you could say. Each in their own way. Degraw is a beast. He’s been in and out of priso
n since he was old enough to walk, robbed banks, dynamited rail-car safes, burnt down an entire village, then killed an old couple with his bare hands, that’s what got him locked up last. He’s ruthless, like a pissed-off griz, as fierce and as scary as one, too. Lonnigan has a powerful way about him that works through his mind as well. Degraw and Lonnigan were in the same cell together for a time and we had to separate them, thought they might kill each other . . . In hindsight I suppose that would have been the best thing to happen to them.”

  “Where was Lonnigan first locked up,” Virgil said. “Where did he transfer from?”

  “Mexico,” Tillary said. “He was in prison in Mexico City. Cibola is the closest stateside facility to Mexico. Well, here and El Paso, but he ended up here.”

  “Who’d Lonnigan murder?” Virgil said. “Who’d he rob?”

  “He had been convicted of murdering three people during a robbery that involved other robbers besides him. Apparently it was a big heist worth millions of dollars in cash, gold, and jewelry that was never found.”

  I looked to Virgil, then to Tillary.

  “Millions?” Virgil said.

  “Hell of a deal,” Tillary said. “The robbery took place on a Spanish ship coming to Mexico. My understanding, the gold, jewels, and cash that was aboard the ship was intended as a gift from the Queen of Spain that was to be delivered to the president of Mexico. Lonnigan and his gang somehow got on the ship before it made port and absconded with the loot. But Lonnigan got shot during the heist, three times in the back, and was caught. Prior to serving his time here he was at the previous facility, in Mexico. Apparently he recovered there okay, but then later on he was in need of a second surgery to remove a piece of lead so he got himself transferred here.”

  “The others got away?” I said.

  Tillary nodded.

  “He was the only one caught,” Tillary said.

  “Who shot him?”

  “The Federales said that he was shot by his own men, his fellow bandits, but you know how the Federales are. Certainly can’t go by what they report. They most likely did it, shot him, blamed the others, and took off with the gold, jewelry, and cash themselves.”