Robert B. Parker's Blackjack by Robert Knott

coffee from the pot. He stood with his back to us, looking out at the street with his cup in one hand and the coffeepot in the other. He stood silently for a moment, then spoke to Virgil and me without turning to face us.
    “Gonna miss that boy . . .” Chastain said. “He was like a son to me. I’m sure gonna miss him.”

27.
    C hastain had one of his young deputies fetch the Denver policemen and bring them to the office to talk with Virgil and me. We closed the door between the front office and the cells, separating us from Truitt.
    Detective Lieutenant Claude Banes, the larger and older one of the two, had broad shoulders and large hands. He had that look of a man that likely drank too much whiskey.
    After the introductions Lieutenant Banes dropped in a chair, unbuttoned his jacket, and leaned back with his hat in his hand. Everything about his demeanor suggested he was tired, had seen it all before, and was less than interested in his job.
    The younger one, Detective Sergeant Sherman King, was a lean, clean-shaven man with a bowler pulled down just above his eyebrows. His manner was precise and rigid, and as Chastain had said, he was certainly full of himself and every gesture he made let us know he took his job seriously.
    Chastain, Virgil, and I sat across from Lieutenant Banes, but Sergeant King remained standing as if he were an officer at attention.King looked to Banes and the lieutenant nodded a little, as if to give the young sergeant permission to speak. King quickly weighed in with some brazenness that would be short-lived.
    “Where did you lose him?” King said.
    “Lose who?” Virgil said.
    “Bill Black, of course.”
    Virgil glanced at me before he answered King.
    “We didn’t lose Bill Black,” Virgil said.
    “The deputy that called on us said there was an apprehension of someone.”
    He nodded to the back cell room.
    “Someone that had been with Bill Black, but that Black got away.”
    “Let’s start with something a bit easier,” Virgil said.
    “What’s that?”
    “Why are you here?”
    King looked to Banes, then back to Virgil.
    “Official business of the Denver Department of Law Enforcement.”
    “What sort of official business?”
    The young sergeant stood straight-backed with his jaw clenched.
    “We are here to investigate.”
    “Investigate what?”
    “I don’t have to tell you this is serious business involving a member of our department.”
    “Tell us about this murder,” Virgil said.
    “I can tell you what is within my purview to be shared.”
    Virgil glanced to me again, then looked back to the sergeant and smiled.
    “Tell us all you know, within your purview.”
    “I can answer the questions I feel are appropriate for me to answer, Marshal.”
    Virgil looked to Banes, and Banes averted his eyes to me.
    “Roger Messenger a member of the Denver Department of Law Enforcement?” Virgil said.
    “Was,” King said.
    “He’s not anymore?”
    “He is on leave, pending investigation,” he said.
    “Providing he lives,” Virgil said.
    The young detective sergeant stared at Virgil.
    “Who is Ruth Ann, and how is she related to Roger?”
    “I’m afraid I cannot answer that.”
    “There is really nothing for you to be afraid of, Detective Sergeant King,” Virgil said.
    King blinked a few times.
    “The case is confidential, Marshal.”
    Virgil glanced to me.
    “We heard something about that,” Virgil said.
    “There is a warrant and there is a bounty,” I said. “Not much confidential about that.”
    “Nonetheless . . .” he said.
    “Messenger come here by himself,” Virgil said, “or as a member of the Denver Department of Law Enforcement to serve the warrant?”
    Detective Sergeant King pulled his shoulders back and looked at Virgil without answering the question.
    “Guess that means confidential,” Virgil said.
    “I cannot answer that.”
    “How is it that Boston Bill Black ends up being charged with this murder?”
    “I told you this is