Most of the party crowd was toward the opposite end of the long room, but we had a good view of everyone. The majority of the people were spaced out, sitting in chairs around the edges. In the center couples were dancing to waltz music being played by a big band that was perched up on one side of the stage.
Virgil turned, looked around across the street, then looked back inside the room.
“What do you think?” I said.
Virgil shook his head a little.
“Don’t make sense.”
“Maybe he’s off to catch that train when it leaves,” I said. “Think it’s at ten.”
“Could be,” Virgil said.
“Wonder what happened to the woman?”
“Been thinking that, too,” he said.
“Think somehow Degraw might have got to her?”
Virgil nodded.
“From Skeeter’s look and description, sounds like the work of Degraw,” he said. “But this is all pretty much a spiderweb if there ever was one.”
“There’s Allie and her friend,” I said.
Virgil followed my look.
“Margie,” Virgil said.
They were sipping champagne and talking to two young men near the front by the band.
“Allie looks to be having a good time,” I said.
“She does,” Virgil said.
“Want to go on in?” I said.
Before Virgil answered, someone from the crowd called out, “Here he is.”
A lighted coach pulled by a big white horse stopped in front of the main entrance. The door was opened by one of the party attendants and out stepped Vandervoort, followed by his new bride, Constance. As always, he was dressed in a handsome long coat with gold buttons but now sported a frilly white shirt. Constance was wearing a gold dress that shimmered, and around her neck was a jeweled necklace that sparkled even more than the dress.
“The man himself,” I said.
“Yep,” Virgil said.
“Look like a couple from some damn painting.”
When the waltz ended everyone clapped. It was as if it were orchestrated by some kind of divine order, the end of the waltz coupled with the arrival of the Vandervoorts.
Everyone turned and acknowledged Vandervoort and his wife with a round of applause when they entered. Then, after the long clapping died down, a chant started—Speech, speech, speech!
Vandervoort smiled and waved, then moved up the stage steps with Constance on his arm. Constance stood to the side and Vandervoort stepped behind the lectern as the crowd clapped. He held up his hands and resembled a Christ-like politician.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
Everyone began to settle down, and once everyone stopped clapping Vandervoort put his hands together.
“Thank you, thank you, the fine citizens of Appaloosa . . . Thank you.”
The crowd moved in around the stage to listen to Vandervoort and Virgil and I drifted in the door and stood just inside as he began to speak.
“Some of you know I just returned from New Orleans where I received a shipment of incredible goods that I procured from some auctions and estate sales overseas—from places like France and Italy and Spain. Fine merchandise, mind you, the kind of merchandise one might find in Philadelphia, Chicago, New York, or Boston. Nevertheless, the point is, this merchandise, in these two boxcar loads I brought back with me, will soon find its way into your homes and places of business. These goods, along with this wonderful Town Hall and this avenue with the fine stores and businesses, is what will separate Appaloosa from all the other hamlets that have sprung up during this country’s western expansion. It has been my intention all along to build a city west of the Mississippi that will rival any of those aforementioned. It has been my intention since the first day of my arrival here to lift this community of Appaloosa out of the confines of backward culture. I see here among us some of my business and leasing partners. Please come up here with me, Bob Kirkwood is here, James Carlisle, Red Peterson, and Allison French. These are the owners and operators of new business along Vandervoort Avenue here. Allie, Bob, James, Red, come. Allie I am particularly proud of, our one and only woman business owner in all of Appaloosa. The tide is changing, folks, and we here in Appaloosa are on the forefront of that change.”
Allie and the other men all walked up the steps. When they were all there behind Vandervoort he turned and looked to them and clapped. This encouraged the rest of the folks in the room to start clapping, too.
Then, rising up the steps from behind the stage, came Driggs, with the double-barrel shotgun pointed at the back of Vandervoort’s head.