The Mangled Mobster (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 7)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Let me know if I can help. But, preferably, in the morning." I put the phone back in the cradle.

  I looked up and realized that Ferdinand and Gustav were still standing there, just watching me. I took a deep breath, walked over to my father's favorite chair, and turned on the floor lamp next to it. I pointed to the sofa and said, "Have a seat, boys."

  They walked over as Ferdinand puffed up his bare chest and said, "We are not boys, Mr. Nick."

  I nodded and sat down. "Yeah. It's just a phrase. Doesn't mean anything."

  They both sat down.

  "So, when did you two meet?"

  Gustav said, "In the gymnasium. That is our name for the high school. I was studying for the medical school in Prague. Ferdinand was studying for the economics." He looked over at Ferdinand with adoring eyes. It was true love. On his part, at least.

  "Did you go to college?" I asked.

  Ferdinand haughtily replied, "Yes. The Party decided we should both become engineers so we were matriculated to the Prague Technical University."

  "Mrs. Kopek said you went to the Helsinki Olympics."

  Ferdinand sat up proudly. "Yes. I win the Silver Medal for marathon."

  I smiled and said, "Congratulations." Gustav was beaming with pride. He tentatively put his hand on Ferdinand's knee.

  I didn't think they would want to talk about being in what Mrs. Kopek had called a "special hospital," which was obviously something psychiatric. I knew that's how the Soviets were treating homosexuals. Just like was happening in America, even in San Francisco. So modern and so cruel. I was sure Czechoslovakia wouldn't want to be behind the times. So, the doctors were probably applying electric shock therapy and other horrors to people who weren't actually sick.

  Instead, I asked, "How do you like San Francisco?"

  Gustav smiled. "I love here. So beautiful. And so much freedom. Thank you for this job, Mr. Nick."

  I nodded and smiled. "You're welcome. We're both glad you're here." I turned to his boyfriend, who wasn't smiling.

  He looked at me down his perfectly-shaped nose. "So, you both share the bed of your father?"

  Gustav put his hand on Ferdinand's arm and said something in Czech. This gesture was ignored. Ferdinand just stared at me.

  "Yeah. Tonight was the first night, to be honest."

  "How are you so rich?" His tone was smug.

  "I inherited it from an uncle."

  "So now you take over your father's house and sleep in his bed." I wasn't sure what the kid's problem was but it was beginning to bother me.

  "Sure. Why not?" Two could play this game.

  "Such bourgeoisie." His voice was dripping with contempt. Gustav began to speak rapidly in Czech. His boyfriend ignored it all and kept his eyes locked on mine.

  I stood up and motioned with my hand. "Stand up, kid."

  Ferdinand did so and moved in close as if to intimidate me with his height. "I am not a kid, Mr. Nick."

  I smiled up at him as I quickly pulled back and gave him a right hook to his left kidney that he wasn't expecting. He fell back on the couch with an expression of shock on his face. Gustav looked at me and then looked at his boyfriend. He got up, stood over Ferdinand, and spoke rapidly, obviously scolding him.

  I tapped Gustav on the shoulder. He stopped and turned. I said, "Go get a towel and some ice from the icebox." He nodded and ran through the dining room and into the kitchen.

  I sat down next to Ferdinand on the sofa. As I did so, his eyes began to fill up. I opened up my arms and he leaned against me and began to sob.

  He had a kind of shell shock. I'd seen it before. In my own way, I'd had it. The first time Carter told me he loved me, I'd lost it. I gave him my right hook, right on the sidewalk in Sausalito, and then ran off.

  When Gustav came back, he stood and looked at us for a moment. I smiled and gestured for him to sit down on the other side of his boyfriend. Ferdinand pulled Gustav into his arms and cried even harder. As the night slowly passed, I eventually fell asleep even though I tried not to.

  It was light outside when I woke up. I was alone on the sofa and under a blanket. I looked over and saw Carter sitting in my father's favorite chair. He smiled as I stretched.

  "Sorry, Chief. I should've come back to bed."

  "What happened?"

  I told him about the call from Mission Station and then about the conversation I'd had with the boys.

  His face creased with worry. "Is he gonna be OK?"

  I smiled. "You know better than me. You could pull him aside and tell him how yellow and purple the bruise will get."

  Carter stood. He motioned for me to sit up. I did. He sat behind me and pulled me into his arms. We both lay there as the outside light got brighter. After falling asleep again, I woke up to the sounds of Carter lightly snoring behind me and someone cooking in the kitchen. But it was the smell of coffee in the percolator that got me up off the couch.

  Chapter 17

  Offices of Consolidated Security

  Wednesday, June 23, 1954

  Around 10 in the morning

  "Could you add one more thing to your list, doll?"

  "What's that, Nick?"

  "Call Pacific Telephone and have them install extensions in our bedroom, in the kitchen, and in the office. Then have them take out the original phone. It's 1954, after all. The telephone doesn't have to be in the middle of the house."

  "Will do, Nick."

  "Oh, and could you see if you can find someone in London who will send us a copy of that dwarves book. What's it called?"

  Robert piped up, "The Hobbit."

  "That's it."

  "There's a new one coming, Nick."

  "Right." I'd seen something about it in the paper. "Find out about that, too, will you, doll?"

  "You want me to just call some Joe in London?" She stood up and looked at me through the doorway.

  "Or Robert could," I suggested.

  From his desk he replied, "I'd be happy to, Marnie."

  I smiled at her and said, "Delegate. That's what Carter is always telling me."

  She smiled back and said, "Yeah," as she returned to her desk.

  I'd been bringing Marnie up to speed on all the changes at home. As I'd been talking, I realized how quickly everything had changed in just two days. And yet, it seemed like we'd always lived on Sacramento Street.

  "Robert?"

  "Yeah, Nick?" He walked over to the door.

  "When does the plane leave for Georgia?"

  "They left at 4 this morning. They're going to stop in Houston to re-fuel. They should be in Albany by about 5 local time."

  "Marnie, can you call Aunt Velma and tell her they can leave in the morning if they're ready?"

  "Sure thing, Nick."

  "Thanks, you two. You're the best."

  . . .

  Mike walked in the office around noon. Marnie was having lunch with her boyfriend while Robert ate a sandwich at his desk in between phone calls.

  I looked up and asked, "What's the latest?"

  He smiled tightly and asked, "Where's Carter?"

  "Down in San Mateo with Martinelli and Ray. They're looking at a warehouse fire."

  He nodded. "Let's go for a walk."

  "Sounds serious."

  "It is."

  . . .

  "You get a call from Mission last night about that neighbor of yours?"

  "Sure. I told the sergeant to call Central. Why?"

  "Lysander Blythe is dead. His wife found him on the front porch of their house this morning. He'd been strangled."

  I nodded. We were walking down Bush towards Grant and Chinatown.

  "Who did it?"

  "Well, here's the thing. Central is in an uproar. When Greg left, he just put his badge and gun on his captain's desk and then he walked out. Didn't even clean out his desk. Now that Mission is involved, the police chief may be called in. It's a big mess."

  "How do you know about this?"

  "Gotta call from Rostenkowski." He wa
s a lieutenant at the North Station. We'd helped him out on some cases in the past.

  "How's he involved?"

  "He's not. But he gotta call from a Lieutenant Thomas over at Mission who knew that he was familiar with us. Thomas figured he could get some of the details that way."

  "What'd you tell Rostenkowski?"

  "Everything I knew."

  By this time we were walking in the door at the Far East Cafe. We got seated with a pot of tea and put in our orders. All I wanted was a big plate of dumplings and their spicy soup. Mike was having the crab, again.

  "How's Greg doing?"

  Mike put down his teacup and frowned. "I don't know. I can't find him."

  "What about Ray?"

  "I kicked him out."

  "When?"

  "Last night when I got home."

  "Where'd he go?"

  "Y.M.C.A. on Turk."

  I took a long sip of my tea and looked at Mike. "This thing really has me off my stride. I can barely keep up with what's going on."

  "It's called shock, Nick."

  I looked away and said, "I know." I told him about my encounter with Gustav and Ferdinand.

  Mike laughed. "I guess I'm the only one who's never gotten that right hook."

  "Of course, not. I'm not crazy."

  The waitress brought our plates right at that moment. Once we were settled in, I said, "Let's go over everything."

  Mike nodded as he pulled the meat out of a long crab leg. "You start."

  "Last Wednesday, at 10:15 in the morning, one Johnny Russell is strangled by someone on the twentieth floor of 600 Market Street and then pushed off, landing in the middle of the construction site." I paused and thought for a moment. "Doesn't that seem sloppy to you?"

  He nodded.

  "Russell was on the site because he was supposed to meet Henry around 10:30 for a payoff of five grand. Henry is throwing in a grand and Universal supplied the other four. Only they sent him newsprint instead of cash dollars. Lieutenant Greg Holland from Central is on the spot rather quickly."

  Mike looks at me. "What do you mean?"

  "Guy hits the ground at 10:15. We're across the street at The Palace. Pam must've called over with a message after she called the cops."

  "She did. I asked her."

  I nodded. "Fine. So, we get the page around 10:20 or so. Maybe later. By the time we get over there it's probably 10:30. Cops are already there and Holland is already asking questions. Doesn't that seem damn fast to you?"

  Mike nodded. "Greg told me he was about two blocks away, leaving another murder scene, when the call came in over the radio."

  I nodded, took out my pack of Camels, offered one, which was declined, and lit up. As I exhaled, I said, "Makes sense."

  Mike took out his notebook and started making notes.

  "Then Henry and I go meet with Thomas Rutledge at Universal to let him know what's happened and to take his temperature. Rutledge is the clean-cut Connecticut face of the new Universal which used to be a mob front but is now going straight. He doesn't know about the shakedown but then pretends he did all along by giving us a song and dance about hidden costs. We then meet Vernon Keller, a sleazeball who already knows about the murder and claims the man was unknown. Except, of course, Russell was the concrete supplier for Riatti Supply, which is one of Abati's companies. Keller pretends to be confused about the payoff and his boss says that it was supposed to be three grand. Obviously Keller was skimming from Universal."

  Mike looked at me. "I like Keller for all of this. But not everything adds up."

  I smiled and said, "Let's get the car outta the garage first. Then we can kick the tires."

  Mike nodded and smiled back. "Go on."

  "Next thing that happens is that, around 9 that night, Henry gets a threatening call warning him and me not to investigate."

  "Who would've known you were involved?"

  Using my fingers, I count out the names, "Rutledge. Keller. Holland."

  Right then the waitress came to collect our plates. She sweetly asked, "More tea?"

  We both nodded as she took the teapot with her.

  Mike asked, "Why include Greg?"

  "Where is he?" I asked, making a show of looking around.

  "Dunno. Do you suspect him?"

  I shrugged. "Let's keep our options open."

  "Fair enough. What happened next?"

  "You, being the good cop you are, get Henry and me outta harm's way. He goes to Robert's apartment. I go to the Mark Hopkins. I make two calls. One to Marnie and one to Carter down in Santa Paula. Someone listens in on my call to Carter and, truth be told, I'm sure it was the gal down in Santa Paula at the motel switchboard."

  Mike grunted in agreement. The waitress arrived with a fresh pot of tea. After she walked away, I continued, "It's now early Thursday morning. I hear a noise outside the door of the suite and it's two guys who mention the name Parnell, the one I was registered under, and they know it's my father's name. They break in, I gently pistol whip them both--"

  Mike interrupted with a big grin. "And tie 'em up and stuff 'em like suckling pigs."

  I laughed. "You sound like a proud papa."

  Mike nodded. "I taught you well."

  "That you did. I knew everything there was to know about ropes before I even went into the Navy."

  "And you'd only ever been on a ferry. Wasn't that nifty?"

  We both laughed at that. I could feel the warm affection I had for Mike rise up right then. I poured him a new cup of tea. And then did the same for myself. "So, I call hotel security. They call Holland. I call you. You both arrive separately. Holland takes a look around and then tells you he's in love with you."

  Mike, who was blowing on the tea in his cup to cool it off, looked up. "What?"

  Trying to mimic Holland's voice, I said, "'I ain't one of your buddies.' He could've then easily added, 'But I'd like to be on some cold wintry night.'" I grinned at Mike who was looking at his notebook and trying to ignore me.

  "Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?"

  "We stop by the front desk on the way out and are informed that the manager is not available to talk with us. Even though I just got assaulted in their fine hotel. Don't you think that's suspicious?"

  Mike nodded. "Yep."

  "Next thing is we get word of a stop-work order from Universal. You, me, and Henry go over and find that Keller has been canned and replaced by the very dependable, and former Seabee, William Troyer who, we later discover, is an up-and-coming fellow brought in from back east to help Rutledge push Vernon out."

  "You forgot to mention he hated your guts because you were a queer."

  "Until I favored labor over management."

  "Exactly. What's next?"

  "Well this is where things get fuzzy for me, so you may have to help me out."

  Mike nodded.

  I continued, "Thursday evening at the office, you give me a real talking to about not being a goddam baby. And then Carter gets home." I took a deep breath, remembering that evening. "We smuggle ourselves into the big pile of rocks on Sacramento. Parnell manages to maintain his cool, which still impresses the hell outta me. And Carter finally hears all about my sordid past with a 'gigantic cop' as Mrs. Young put it."

  Mike shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Not everything, I'd guess."

  I shrugged but smiled.

  "I'll pick it up from here."

  I nodded.

  "Early Friday morning, you call the service and find out that your house in on fire. You, Carter, and I leave without telling anyone and find a three-alarm fire in progress. I go to Evelyn's house and call Greg."

  "Who comes running because it's you and who wouldn't?" I just couldn't help it.

  "Who is doing his job, Nick."

  "But I'm sure the thought of seeing you made it easier to get out of bed."

  Mike stopped and looked a little distressed. "He wasn't at home. I called the desk sergeant at Central who said that Greg was out in his car and that he w
ould have the dispatcher put in a call."

  I nodded. I didn't like the sound of that. I liked Greg. I liked the idea of Greg and Mike together.

  Mike took a deep breath and continued, "It's obviously arson because we could all smell the gasoline and Carter later confirmed that it was."

  "When Holland arrived, he was friendly to me and oddly concerned for our safety."

  Mike nodded and looked over my shoulder and out the window of the restaurant.

  I said, "But that could've been the crack in his shell and not relief. Remember, there's more to this story."

  Mike sighed. "I know." He looked at me seriously. "You like Greg, don't you?"

  "I like him for you. And, he's a good cop. I'm glad he'll be working for us but it really is the City's loss."

  "He's a lot different than you."

  I smiled. "Or Bud. Or Ray. Or every other guy you've gone with. How're you gonna work that out?"

  With a little heat, Mike said, "We haven't even been on a date yet, Nick. You practically have us shacked up and living together."

  I nodded. "You're right. I do. And, having heard his blackmail story, I think you two have a compatibility problem."

  He was getting angry. His monster face was emerging. He hissed at me in a low, but menacing, tone, "I'm fucking aware of that, thank you very much, Nick Williams. Now, can we address the matter at hand?"

  I sat back in my chair and looked at him. "You really have it bad, don't you?"

  "Yes. But it's none of your goddam business, so shut the fuck up about it."

  I stood up. "I'm goin' to the can. Be right back."

  . . .

  When I got back, I sat down and said, "You know how much I love you, Mike. I'm sorry for sticking my nose in. I want you to be happy."

  He nodded and then smiled wanly. "That's OK, Nick. I know you do. Let me do me and you do you and we'll be just fine."

  "I'd kiss you right now, you big lug, if we weren't in Chinatown in the bright light of day."

  He smiled and said, "OK. The next thing that happened was that Carter and his old captain confirmed it was arson once the house was cool enough to walk through. We're now up to Friday afternoon."

  I just shook my head. "Damn."

  "I know. Greg and his cops do a canvass and all they come up with is that Lysander Blythe, your neighbor to the south, heard breaking glass at 1:30 that morning. He's also one of the neighbors who called in the fire. Around 2. Once Greg tells me this, I go over and talk to Blythe myself."