The Paradoxical Parent (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 13)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Thanks, Greg." I looked at Mike. "And you..." I suddenly remembered Carter and Mike going at it on Saturday night. "Have you told Greg—"

  Carter put his hand on my arm. "In your absence and as your loving husband, I made a command decision that we'll never speak of that again. Got that, Boss?"

  I smiled at Mike. "Got it, Chief." I looked back at Carter. "But—"

  "Oh, we'll be having that meeting. But on Wednesday. You're about to go back upstairs and go back to bed."

  I shook my head. "No, I'm not."

  Ed said, "The doctor himself—"

  "What doctor?" I asked, looking at Carter.

  "The one who treated you at the hospital, Dr. Gomes. He came over last night and looked you over. I'm going to give you a pill and it should knock you out again. For a few hours, anyway."

  I sighed. I felt fine, but I could also use more sleep. I'd been feeling that way for a couple of months, at least. "Fine, but I have one more question."

  "Only one," said Carter.

  I rolled my eyes. "And it's for you."

  "Shoot."

  "When did you call Lettie on Saturday and spill all the beans?"

  Carter's eyes widened. "How'd you know?"

  I pointed at Ed. "Last I heard, they don't have magic carpets in Vermont."

  Carter grinned. "No. But they do have Western Union and A.T. & T. and I thought, and Lettie agreed, that Ed should be here."

  I snorted. "If you weren't so big, I'd do to you what—"

  Carter put his hand over my mouth. "We agreed."

  "You agreed," I said to his palm.

  He removed his hand and said, "If you'll be quiet, I'll tell you the whole thing and then you have to go back to bed."

  I folded my hands in my lap and said, "Yes, Chief. I'll behave." I glanced over at Ed. He looked amused at our banter.

  Carter grinned. "I called Lettie from the gym on Saturday morning and gave her the five-minute rundown. She agreed that we should invite Ed in for our pow-wow and that it should happen over here on Sunday night. I gave her his phone number and she did the rest."

  I looked over at Ed. He said, "She called me and was charming but also direct and didn't seem like a woman who takes no for an answer—"

  "She doesn't," I interrupted.

  Carter said, "You promised, Nick."

  "Fine. Sorry about that, Ed."

  He smiled. "So, I took the late train from White River Junction down to North Station in Boston. Kenneth met me there and I stayed with him and Michelle on Saturday night. He got up and drove me over to Logan Field. I flew on the TWA to Los Angeles and one of your planes picked me up there and brought me up here."

  "The Lumberjack or the Fireman?" I asked

  Ed smiled. "The Fireman, I guess. It had one of those painted on the side. I just thought that meant it was Carter's plane. I thought your plane might have a painting of Sam Spade. You know, from The Maltese Falcon?"

  We all laughed at that.

  . . .

  Carter put me to bed, gave me a small white pill, and tucked me in. He kissed me on the forehead and said, "When you wake up, we'll be ready for dinner. This should knock you out for about six hours."

  He looked at me for a long moment. We were alone in the bedroom. "Are you OK?" he asked, with concern in his voice.

  I nodded. "I am. I remember most of last night." I shook my head. "I mean, Saturday night. It might take me a while to look myself in the mirror too closely." I sighed. "I'm sorry Ricky's gone. Maybe a shrink could've helped him."

  Carter shook his head. "He would've had to have wanted help. I don't think he knew there was a problem."

  "Did you hear what he said at the end?"

  Carter shook his head.

  "He wanted us, him and me, to go away to Portugal, where he had a job. He thought we could leave and that, somehow, you wouldn't know."

  Carter looked down at the bedspread. I could feel the pill beginning to take effect. I asked about the one thing that had been on my mind all throughout breakfast. "I didn't wanna ask down there but what happened in the papers?"

  Carter sighed. "Big, screaming headlines. F.B.I. agents murdered by The Kid. The Kid murdered by someone else. Warehouse torched. Police have dozens of suspects. Eyewitnesses report this and that. The usual." He looked away for a moment. "Being in the middle of it all, knowing what did happen, and why." He paused. "It's so strange to read what they say, what the cops are saying, even what the Fire Chief is saying and to know that it's all bull. They don't have a clue and are doing their level best to not look stupid."

  I tried to reply but the pill was pulling me down. All I could get out was, "I love you, Carter Woodrow..." I don't think I finished saying his whole ridiculous, wonderful, ever-loving name.

  . . .

  It was the first Monday after Wednesday and the clock said that it was a hundred and nineteen past thirty-one. For some reason, that all made sense as I opened the car door and walked up the back stairs and into our house on Hartford.

  I walked into the kitchen and had a hard time keeping my balance because I'd just finished waxing the linoleum and it was slick. I could feel myself sliding all over the floors.

  I finally grabbed hold of the sofa and realized it was one of the sofas that lined the cabin walls along the central part of The Laconic Lumberjack, our really super Super Constellation. Connie was really super and I wanted to tell her but first I needed to get something to drink from Christine, our stewardess.

  The plane was empty. And the door was open, even though we were crossing the Rocky Mountains. I tried to keep clear of the door, just in case I accidentally slipped on the slick linoleum floor of the airplane and slid out the door.

  I was finally able to make it to the back bedroom. I opened the door and noticed that it was a Pullman room on The City of San Francisco, a train that Carter and I had taken to Chicago back in '49 on our way to New York to see South Pacific.

  Mary Martin was sitting in one of the seats, reading a copy of Life Magazine. As she flipped through the pages, she began to cry. I walked over and asked, "Is something wrong?"

  She looked up at me, eyes blazing, and said, "Why didn't you cast me in your movie?"

  "What movie?" I asked, completely confounded.

  "South Pacific. I want to play Nellie Forbush. I'm that Navy Nurse. And I want to play her."

  I stepped back. She really was Nellie Forbush. She sounded like her and talked like her. She was that Navy Nurse. Why hadn't I realized it?

  I turned and looked Carter. "She's gotta be in the movie."

  "What movie?" asked Carter.

  "You know, the one with all the dancing sailors. The one with our song? Remember?"

  . . .

  Carter said, "Nick, wake up."

  I opened my eyes, sat up, and asked, "What time is it?"

  "Half past 4. You were mumbling in your sleep, so I thought I'd wake you up."

  My brain was a little foggy but not as thick as what I could see out the window. The fog was rolling past, which was unusual but not unheard of. Carter had a big fire going but the room was chilly.

  "What were you dreaming about, anyway?"

  I shook my head. "I dunno. Something about South Pacific being made into a movie."

  "A movie? They're making a movie?"

  "Dunno."

  "Maybe you should talk to Ben about that."

  I laughed. "Let's see if he can pull off producing It Was Raining Then, and then maybe something bigger. South Pacific is gonna be a big deal."

  Carter nodded. "Yeah. I can't wait to see it."

  I laughed. "There's no movie, yet. Who just had a little white pill? You or me?"

  He grinned and began to tickle me mercilessly.

  Chapter 18

  1198 Sacramento Street

  Monday, March 14, 1955

  Half past 7 in the evening

  Dinner had been delicious, as always. Before everyone arrived, Carter and I had our usual disagreement about who should s
it at the head of the table. I thought we should let my father and Lettie have the honor. He disagreed and said it was our house now, that my father had given it to me, and that what was mine was ours. He was right on all counts, so I sat at the end by the kitchen and he sat at the end by the bar.

  My father and Lettie arrived with Aunt Velma and Carter's mother. The fog was as thick as I'd ever seen and, although it wasn't that cold, they all arrived bundled up. Marnie and her husband, Alex, were right behind them, pulling up on Sacramento just as I was about to close the front door. I had invited them on Saturday afternoon when I'd called Marnie to tell her that William would be calling to get in touch with Ben White down in Hollywood.

  Lettie took over making the introductions, something I was very grateful for. My father was friendly, but cool and a little distant.

  Over dinner, Marnie mostly did the talking, telling stories about some of our early cases with me throwing in some background on things she didn't know about and Carter adding some wisecracks. As she was talking, I realized how most of those stories were new to most everyone, even my father. With Ed there, it was more obvious how little Carter and I had shared about our lives with the rest of our relatives, for better or worse.

  For dessert, we moved into the great room. Gustav brought in coffee for those who wanted it and served us slices of a rich chocolate cake, covered in coconut and filled with thick whipped cream in the center. I'd described the lamingtons that we'd had in Australia to Mrs. Strakova and she'd made her own version. I'd also told her about Mrs. Tutwiler and what happened while we were there, so she decided to call our dessert a Tutwiler cake. As usual, everyone fawned over the food and rightly so. It was delicious.

  When the right time came, Lettie put her small dessert plate on a side table and said, "Now, Nicholas. I would like for you to take us through this entire case, if you will."

  I'd guessed she would do that, so I was ready. I began by talking about the letters I'd found. I then moved on to how Mike had put Walter in charge of tracing down what happened between '29 and '35, while Maria had been tasked with tracing events after my mother's final letter. I mentioned how Mike had confronted Zelda and got her to admit what she'd done, up to a point. Then I talked about Maria and Frankie finding out about Grafton and going up there to meet Ed.

  Carter, at that point, took over and told everyone we'd flown into Lebanon over the previous Monday night. I was very impressed how he skirted around the events in Lebanon that were connected to Ricky and moved the story right into Grafton. My favorite part of his recounting was his description of the Misses Grace and Hyacinth. He had everyone laughing at his description of their bickering, even my father, who seemed to be relaxing. He then took us down to Boston, our dinner with Ken and Michelle in Lincoln, and our meeting with Mrs. Brown at Dr. Farber's office. I then picked up the story at the lawyer's office on Cape Cod and talked about the terms of the will. As I talked about that, I could see my father begin to smile. I wondered about that but then moved on to our second stop in Lincoln to give Michelle my mother's pearls. I saw Carter watching my father very closely on that point. When I came to talking about Jimmy, Ken and Michelle's son, my father interrupted me.

  Turning to Ed, he asked, "Is Jimmy your grandson?"

  Ed nodded with a smile. "Great little rascal. Smart as a whip." He laughed. "Just like his mom."

  "Did Alexandra ever see him?"

  Ed nodded and then said, "We were both there when he was born." He tugged at his collar and laughed nervously. It was the first time I'd ever seen him that uncomfortable. "Kenneth and Michelle were a little unconventional and she was already pregnant when they finally married."

  My father smiled and said, "Oh, we know all about unconventionality around here."

  Everyone laughed at that. I glanced over at Carter's mother, Louise. She was watching Ed with an odd expression on her face.

  My father stood. He was sitting on the big sofa next to Lettie. He walked over to Ed and offered his hand. Ed stood and shook, holding my father's hand for a long moment. Finally, my father said, "Thank you, Edmond."

  "You're welcome, Parnell."

  I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard Janet laughing upstairs and my mother saying something to her, in reply. I looked over at Carter and he was frowning. "What?" I asked quietly, as everyone else stood and began to talk with Ed.

  "Did you hear that?" asked Carter. "It sounded like a little girl laughing."

  I nodded. "I did."

  He held out his hand to me and I took it, holding it quietly while we watched everyone else talk and laugh as the fire crackled on the hearth.

  Chapter 19

  Offices of Consolidated Security, Inc.

  Wednesday, March 23, 1955

  Around 9 in the morning

  "Got a telegram, Nick." That was Marnie. She was poking her head through the door.

  I looked up from my coffee. Carter and I were sitting on the sofa in my office and talking about nothing much, which was my favorite topic.

  He stood, stretched, and said, "Gotta get going. I have a meeting down in San Leandro." He leaned down and kissed me solidly on the lips.

  "When will you be back?" I asked.

  "By about 4."

  I smiled and said, "See you then."

  He winked at me, then turned and made his way across the office, and left, kissing Marnie on the cheek as he passed her.

  I walked over and asked, "Who's it from?"

  "That John Bellingham."

  I grinned. "Johnny!"

  She handed it to me with a smile and walked back to her desk just outside my office.

  NICK WILLIAMS C/O CONSOLIDATED SECURITY INC 600 MARKET ST SAN FRANCISCO CAL. BACK HOME IN BOSTON AND IN LOVE. WHEN YOU HEADED THIS WAY. GEORGE SAYS HELLO. YOUR FRIEND JOHNNY.

  As I read it, I smiled, thinking about how happy I was to know about another happy couple. I looked up and saw two very sharply-dressed kids standing in front of Marnie's desk.

  I stepped out and grinned. "How are you, two?"

  The taller of the two, Tom Jenkins, extended his hand. "How are ya, Nick?" His Australian accent was as charming as ever.

  "Fine, Tom." I offered my hand to his lover. "And, you, Bobby?"

  "Fine, Nick." He grinned and was just as cute as ever.

  "Come on in." I turned and led the way back into my office.

  "Nice!" exclaimed Bobby as he walked up to the windows and looked down at Market Street.

  "You haven't been up here before?"

  "Oh, sure. Just to see Mr. Evans. Never seen things from this perspective. Crikey, I love this City. Beats Sydney, by far."

  I looked over at Tom, who was watching Bobby with a look of deep affection on his face. "What can I do for the two of you?"

  Tom turned and said, "We just wanted to stop by and thank you for taking such good care of us both."

  I shrugged. "Sure. You like the apartment that Robert set you up in?"

  "And, how," replied Bobby. He looked up at Tom. "What's the name of that hill?"

  "Russian Hill, love."

  Bobby grinned. "Yeah."

  "And how's work going?" I looked at my watch, wondering why they weren't there already. Robert had somehow managed to get them both a job at City of Paris, the department store on Union Square. They were both selling men's clothes until we could figure out something else for them to do. The store owner, Mr. Verdier, reported they were doing well, which was good. We'd smuggled them into the country through Mexico when we'd all been asked to leave Australia a few weeks earlier and, from what I'd guessed, Mr. Verdier was paying them under the table and off the books.

  Tom said, "We're on our way there. Just wanted to stop by and say hello." He pulled a small brown jar out of his coat pocket. "And to give you this."

  The jar had a bright yellow lid. It was labeled "Vegemite".

  "What is it?" I asked.

  Bobby said, "We couldn't believe it when we found a shop that carried it. It's my favorite for brekkie."
>
  "Brekkie?" I asked.

  "Breakfast," replied Tom. "You spread it on toast. It's real tasty. But I like it better for tea."

  I opened the jar, expecting some kind of jam. I took one whiff and nearly coughed, it was so strong and salty. "What is this stuff?"

  "It's brewer's yeast. Really good for you."

  I nodded dubiously. "OK. If you say so." I closed the jar and put it on my desk.

  Tom looked at his watch. "Crikey, love, we have to go."

  Bobby walked over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Tom did the same. I felt like a proud dad sending his kids off to school.

  As they walked over to the door, I said, "Be good, you two." Then, remembering Carter's Aunt Velma, I added, "Or be good at it."

  . . .

  Marnie poked her head inside the door to my office. "Got a sec?" she asked.

  "Sure." I'd been going through some of Mike's reports. A few days earlier, he'd hired a secretary, a gal by the name of Hilda Hoffer. She was referred by Geneva and was recently released from the California Institution for Women down south in Corona. She'd been convicted of manslaughter after she'd killed her husband while trying to protect herself from his brutal assault. Her story had been in all the papers back in '53. She'd been released because Geneva and Lettie were able to convince Governor Knight to pardon her.

  She'd been a secretary before going to prison and had worked for a large bank. They'd refused to rehire her since she was a convicted felon, even though the governor's pardon made that a moot point.

  So, we'd taken her on and, according to Mike, she was doing wonders. The thing that Carter and I liked was that she was holding Mike to a more consistent daily schedule. Every day at 5, she handed Marnie his daily report. Like clockwork.

  "What's up, doll?"

  She slipped in and closed the door behind her. "You remember that William that you sent down to Hollywood to work for Ben White?"

  I nodded. "What about him?"

  "He's here."