The Paradoxical Parent (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 13)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  Most of the photographs had been blown up. But they were all different sizes. The largest was immense. It took up half of one wall and was of just my head and neck. The light was in my eyes and I was squinting. I was looking off to my left. It must have been taken later in the afternoon, because I needed a shave. I tried to figure out where it was taken and the best I could come up with was that it was probably on Market. I was looking both ways before I tried to run across the traffic. It was blown up so large that my face was as tall as Carter. I was drawn to it, almost hypnotically.

  I walked up, getting too close to make out many of the details. But, for whatever reason, I couldn't stop looking at my one eye. The sunlight had captured the color of my iris in startling detail. I started laughing, saying, "They really do look like chocolate milk."

  For some reason, I thought it was so funny that I couldn't stop. Everyone had always said my eyes looked like chocolate milk and I'd never believed them. That was how that gal in Boston knew I was my mother's son. Why had I never noticed it before? It was so fucking obvious, particularly when my eye was a foot high. Like the corn in Oklahoma? Or wasn't that as high as an elephant's eye? Did elephants have chocolate milk eyes? I couldn't remember. Whatever it was, it was hilarious. Or was it?

  Even though I wanted to, I couldn't stop laughing. After a moment, I felt someone hit me from behind. I saw stars and then nothing.

  Chapter 17

  1198 Sacramento Street

  Monday, March 14, 1955

  Just past dawn

  I opened my eyes, propped myself up, and looked around. The fireplace was roaring and the windows were open. The outside light told me it was just past dawn.

  Mike was stretched out on the Chesterfield. He was covered in the checked red and white blanket that had once been on my childhood bed down the hall. He was laying perfectly still, doing a good imitation of a corpse as he always had when we'd lived together. It was always eerie to watch. But then, as I stared, he shifted and I relaxed.

  In the chair closest to the fire, I saw Greg Holland, Mike's lover. He was wrapped in the bright pink bedspread from the Rose Room upstairs. His brown hair was getting a little long. He really needed a haircut. His head was resting at an angle against one of the pillows from the same bed. He was drooling on it.

  And Ed, Sheriff Ed from Grafton, my mother's lover, was sitting in one of the chairs across from the Chesterfield. He was sitting in one of the chairs across from the bed where my father and mother had slept. Where I'd been conceived. And where my husband was now gently snoring next to me. That red-blooded 50-something country sheriff was sitting in a room surrounded by four known and notorious homosexuals. The bright green bedspread from the Emerald Room was wrapped around him. He was awake and looking at me. He smiled and whispered, "Morning, sleepyhead."

  I was confused. "How'd you get here?"

  "Lettie asked me to come."

  I frowned. "Lettie, my father's wife?"

  He nodded. "Great gal."

  Suddenly, I realized I really needed to relieve myself. I slid out of the bed, trying not to wake Carter, and quickly made my way around the bed and into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and stood in front of the toilet. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Why were all those people in the bedroom? Why was Ed in town?

  Once I was done, I washed my hands and then my face. I looked pretty haggard. I also had a couple of bruises under my left eye for some reason. I looked at them for a moment and then shrugged. I brushed my hair, trying to get it to lay down.

  I picked up my toothbrush and ran it under the cold water. Opening a can of Colgate dentifrice, I sprinkled it on the brush. As I looked down, I realized I had no clothes on.

  I laughed at myself in the mirror while I brushed my teeth, wondering about who had socked me. As I did, I saw my chocolate milk eyes looking back in the reflection of the mirror. Then, everything came back to me. I could see that room plastered with photos. I wasn't ready to look at my reflection yet, so I leaned over the sink, spit, and rinsed my mouth.

  . . .

  Once I was dressed, I motioned to Ed to follow me. We quietly walked down the stairs, through the great room, and into the kitchen.

  I found Mrs. Kopek sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. When she saw me, she stood and ran to me, "Oh, Mr. Nick!" She gave me a tight hug.

  I hugged her back and said, "Good morning, Mrs. Kopek. Have you met—"

  Behind me, Ed laughed and said, "I met everyone yesterday."

  I turned and looked at him. "Yesterday?"

  "Sure. Today is Monday."

  I rocked on my heels. "Oh."

  He said, "Get some coffee, Nick, and then I'll fill you in on what I know."

  I nodded.

  . . .

  While Mrs. Strakova was making breakfast for us, I had an overwhelming desire to show Ed the office. Coffee in hand, he looked around at the floor, the paneling, the ceiling, and nodded. "It's like something you'd see in a book. Just like that bedroom upstairs."

  "This was all my grandfather. The fire after the earthquake in '06 destroyed everything in the house except for the stone walls. He'd built the house in '92 and brought back the same men who did the earlier work. But, instead of building out the rest of the rooms like before, he only did this room and the master bedroom. The rest he left more modern, I guess you'd could call it."

  "And your mother did those bedrooms in 1928?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. There wasn't much up there before. The Emerald Room, the green one, had been a sewing room before then. Or that's what I remember."

  "And where were your bedrooms? Yours and Janet's?"

  "We walked by them. They're on opposite sides of that hall. Mine faces the street and hers faces the garden. Now they're just more guestrooms."

  He smiled. "Five guestrooms?"

  I nodded and shrugged. "Yeah." I looked around the office. "To me, this is still just a big pile of rocks."

  He made a wry face. "Some pile." He walked over to the glass cabinet at the far end of the room.

  I suddenly felt like a kid showing off his prized possessions to a new friend. "You wanna see something amazing?"

  He was looking at the contents of the cabinet. "Besides the models of your ship and airplanes? That's what these are, right?"

  "Yeah. That's Carter's idea. He says it's to keep me from getting a big head."

  Ed laughed. "What's the other amazing thing?"

  I walked back to the octagonal table in the middle of the room. He followed me. I pointed at it. "Try to move it."

  He handed me his coffee cup and tried to pick it up. It didn't budge. He leaned down and examined the legs. "Looks like teak. Should be light. Is it bolted down?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. Try pushing it."

  He stood and pushed against one of the edges. It didn't move.

  I watched his face as I pushed on the right one of the eight edges and in the direction that made the table move. It slid noiselessly to the side and revealed the floor safe.

  Ed looked duly surprised and nodded with a grin. "That's pretty amazing. What's down there?"

  "The mountain," I replied as if I was talking about a model train set.

  "A mountain?" he asked with a frown. "Aren't we on top of a hill? Nob Hill?"

  I laughed. "Yeah. That's the name that Janet and I gave—"

  "Oh, is that where your father keeps all his gold and diamonds?"

  I grinned. "That's it. Did my mother tell you about it?"

  "She did. And she thought it was kinda funny. Hope you don't mind me saying that."

  "Nope. Janet and I felt that way, too. But, he moved his stuff out and across the street."

  Ed turned and looked out the windows that fronted Sacramento Street. "Does he live in one of those buildings?"

  "Yeah. The one right across from the park is a hotel. His building is on the other side of that garage. He and Lettie live on the ground floor."

  "Must be quite a view."

  "
It is."

  He looked back down at the safe. "So, is it empty now?"

  I shook my hand. "Nope. I guess I inherited the need to keep a pile of cash inside this pile of rocks. There's no gold or diamonds but it is where I keep ready cash."

  His eyes twinkled as he looked at me. "I suppose you count ready cash in the hundreds of thousands?"

  I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah."

  . . .

  We were sitting at the dining table over plates of scrambled eggs and toast. He had a platter of crispy bacon and I had one of chewy.

  "So, when did you get here?" I asked.

  "Yesterday around 6. That funny Czechoslovakian guy in the green uniform picked me up at the airport."

  "Funny? Ferdinand?"

  He nodded. "That guy's funny."

  I looked around the room. "Are you sure we're talking about the same Ferdinand? The one with the massive chip on his shoulder."

  Ed took a sip of his coffee. "Yeah. That's him. I just started making fun of him. He loosened up. Who wears boots that like that these days?"

  I tried not to blush as I said, "Well, it's the uniform that—"

  "Ronald."

  I looked up and nodded. "That was his name. Did my mother tell you about it?"

  He shrugged. "She told me about Ronald and Harriett, a maid if I remember right."

  I nodded.

  He continued, "She thought it was so funny that they were constantly sneaking around thinking that nobody knew."

  I laughed. "You're kidding me. That's not how I remember that, at all. In my memory, they were really good at keeping us all in the dark and then—"

  "Sure, son. You were what? Six years old?"

  I nodded. I could feel tears making their way up to the surface. I took a sip of coffee and asked, "But why are you here? Not that I'm not glad to see you."

  He swallowed a bite of bacon and said, "Lettie called me Saturday. She wanted me to come and meet your father."

  I shook my head in disbelief. "How did she even know?"

  "I think Carter told her."

  I grinned. "That sneaky bastard. He did it again."

  "Did what?"

  "Nothing." I took a bite of my toast. "So, I was out of it for a whole day?"

  He nodded. "That you were. Carter and Mike explained everything, including the fire."

  "The fire?"

  He nodded carefully. "I probably should let them tell you but they put you and..." He paused. "What's the name of the agent who's my age and who knows your housekeeper?"

  "Sam."

  "Yeah. He took you to the hospital. There was some doctor you worked with who put you under." He grinned. "Apparently, you kept coming to and Sam had to knock you out once or twice."

  I rubbed my face. "That's why I have a couple of bruises I don't remember getting."

  He nodded. "So, the doctor knocked you out with something and sent you and Sam home in an ambulance."

  I frowned. "Why didn't Carter take me?"

  Ed looked up at the ceiling. "I guess sometimes the best person to start a fire is a fireman."

  I looked at Ed. "What?"

  He nodded. "He started a fire in that building. They wanted to get rid of all those photographs. He wouldn't tell me how he did it, but he made it look like an electrical fire."

  I wasn't sure how I felt about that. "Was Mike with him?"

  "Sure. It was his idea, from what I gathered."

  Right then, I saw Mike walking down the stairs, yawning. He came into the dining room and smiled. "Good to see you up and eating, Nick."

  I stood and walked right into his arms. "I'm sorry, Mike."

  He patted me on the back. "For what?"

  "Ed just told me about the fire. I know what they must have taken. I'm sorry."

  Mike sighed. "Yeah. It's a new day at Consolidated Security. Lemme put in my order for breakfast and I'll tell you why."

  I nodded and let him go. I sat down and looked at Ed. "Does any of that bother you?"

  "Any of what?" he asked.

  "When I woke up, the first thing I realized was there you were, sitting in a room filled with four of the most notorious homosexuals in the country and it didn't seem to bother you."

  He smiled. "It doesn't. Never has. And, up until I met your mother, I never understood the men it did bother. I understand the religious scruples, of course. But it was the way some men get riled up that always confused me. But, then again..." he shrugged and took a drink of coffee. "I've never once felt an ounce of attraction for anyone but a woman. And not too many women, at that." He grinned. "She explained to me about how some men have an attraction for other men that bothers them." He stopped and scratched his head. "What was that word she used?"

  "Latent?"

  He nodded. "Latent. She said that she thought that nine times out of ten, any guy you'd see punching a qu—" He stopped and then said, "a homosexual has gotta have some of those tendencies himself. I always wondered if she ever read The Kinsey Report after it came out. Now I know she didn't. She was just way ahead of her time."

  I looked down at my plate. The wave of emotion was intense.

  "You OK there, son?"

  I nodded and then looked up. The tears were trying to get out again. "When I first found out she might still be alive, I was worried the reason I hadn't heard from her was because of who I am and, you know, Carter."

  Ed stood and walked around to my chair. He put his hand on my shoulder and, with a slight grunt, knelt next to me. "Lemme tell you, son, that your mother is still a riddle to me but I can guarantee you that she would be proud of you. I have no doubt about that, at all." The tears were coming out of his eyes so I decided to let mine come out, as well.

  . . .

  By the time Mike came out of the kitchen with his plate of scrambled eggs, I was telling Ed about the redwood table and how it was one long piece of wood.

  "Henry, that's Carter's ex from Georgia who lives here, he wouldn't let me cut it into pieces. It's too big for just the two of us. I thought maybe we could make a smaller table out of it. But Henry wouldn't hear of it."

  Mike was sitting on my right, wolfing down his breakfast. With a mouth full of eggs, he said, "Henry and Nick could be twins. It's weird."

  I shrugged. "He's much more handsome than me."

  Mike shook his head. "No, he's not. Then again, I'm biased."

  Ed said, "You know, since you live in a big city, I'm really surprised how, what's the word?"

  "Connected?" offered Mike.

  Ed nodded. "Yeah. How connected you all are. I met Andy yesterday. He and Henry are from the same town in Georgia as Carter. And, from what I can tell, everyone I've met works for Nick."

  Mike smiled. "That's what I like to call, 'Nick being Nick'."

  I rolled my eyes and then turned to Ed. "I just like to help people. I never wanted the damn money in the first place."

  Mike said, "Carter had to threaten to buy his own house to get Nick to buy the one they did buy. Oh," he held up his fork," but he didn't mind buying his own apartment building when Jeffery, his, um..." Mike blushed slightly.

  I smiled and glanced at Ed. "Jeffery Klein was my—"

  "Lover?" asked Ed, looking completely unfazed by all our talk.

  I nodded. "Yeah. After I got back from the South Pacific. He was also my lawyer until not too long ago."

  "What happened?"

  "It's a long story. He decided he wanted to get married."

  Ed frowned. "To a woman?"

  I nodded.

  Ed shook his head. "It's like one of those shows on the radio."

  Mike nodded. "You have no idea."

  I cleared my throat. "Meanwhile—"

  Carter and Greg came barging down the stairs right then.

  I stood and said, "Let's get everyone fed and then I want to know what happened after someone knocked me out."

  Carter walked up and said, "That was me."

  I nodded and hugged him. "Thanks, Chief."

  "Any time, B
oss."

  . . .

  Once everyone was seated around the table, I asked, "So, what happened after Carter gave me his knockout move?"

  Mike said, "Carter carried you down to the street and left you with Sam who pretended to a passing cab driver that you were drunk."

  "What was a cab doing in that part of town at that time in the morning?"

  Carter answered. "Sam said he had to wait fifteen minutes. And that he had to slug you a couple of times because you kept coming to." He gave me his concern frown. "Hurt much?"

  I grinned and shrugged. "No. Was strange seeing it in the mirror this morning."

  "Why didn't you want him to come out of it?" That was Greg.

  Mike replied, "He was having a breakdown."

  I nodded. "I seem to remember being unable to stop laughing."

  Mike nodded. "You kept saying something about chocolate milk." He frowned. "Wait. That's the color of your eyes."

  I nodded but didn't say anything. I didn't really want to talk about that. Not yet.

  I was grateful when Carter picked up the story "Then, much to my surprise, Mike asked me to torch the place."

  I shook my head. "That... I just can't believe that."

  Mike shrugged. "All I could think of was one of those dopes over at Mission Station bringing in the photographer from the Examiner, just for kicks."

  Greg nodded. "Yeah. They would've done it, too."

  "How'd you do it?" I asked Carter.

  Carter shrugged and didn't reply except with a smile.

  "Did you call it in?"

  Carter nodded. "I pulled the fire alarm box at 5th and Brannan."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we went back over to Hartford Street and put our clothes in the incinerator. Then we came over here. By the time we got here, Sam and the ambulance men had put you to bed."

  "Did you get the tour of our new house?"

  Carter nodded. "I'll take you over there in the next couple of days and show you around. It's impressive."

  I looked at Greg. "How'd you get roped into nursemaid duty?"

  He grinned at me. To my mind, he was handsome in the same way that Andy was handsome. Not so that you'd remember later but very nice to look at. I knew he was really in love with Mike and it always made me happy to see the two of them together. "Mike didn't want to come home, so I came. You know, like Mohamed and the mountain."