The Voluptuous Vixen (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 9)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I waited for him to tell me what it was. He didn't seem to be in a hurry, so I asked, "And what would that be?"

  Carter nudged me slightly. I was definitely using my "high-hat tone" as he liked to call it. My father would have been proud.

  "Well, sir, the heirs have, in a way that has greatly surprised me, come to a sudden decision about the disposal of this property."

  I nodded and waited. And waited.

  "And?" Carter finally asked.

  "The heirs wish for me to offer you an opportunity to purchase the property, which includes the house and fifty acres of what once was the Thompson Plantation."

  "I see. And why don't they keep it for themselves?"

  "Well, it's like this, Mr. Williams. When Mr. Thompson drafted his final will, he instructed that all cash in his possession at the time of his demise should be given to an individual who was not a member of his immediate family. Given that the only other asset in his estate is the house and all of its furnishings, along with the acreage, the heirs are eager to liquidate the estate and take possession of the cash proceeds, minus any taxes, of course."

  I nodded. "Of course."

  "Yes, and lest you believe I am divulging confidential information, I have been authorized to share these details with you." He glanced over at Carter with a doubting look on his face.

  "And who is the beneficiary of the cash portion of his estate?"

  Mr. Bertram frowned and whispered, "I'm not at liberty to say. Not at this time."

  I nodded. "I see."

  Carter asked, "How much for the house?"

  Mr. Bertram blinked several times at Carter and then at me without saying anything.

  I said, "You can be frank with both of us, Mr. Bertram."

  The lawyer nodded and said, "Very well. I have been authorized by the beneficiaries to offer a price of fifty thousand dollars."

  I ran my hand over my mouth, trying not to smile at the ridiculously low price. "Fifty thousand?"

  "Yes, Mr. Williams. I am not authorized to negotiate on this matter. The price is firm. This is, in fact, a one-time offer. If you do not agree to this price today, then I am instructed to withdraw it." He took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dotted his forehead. "I'm afraid the beneficiaries do not quite understand the nature of real estate transactions. They were quite adamant on this point." He sighed as he stuffed his handkerchief back in his coat. "Quite adamant, indeed."

  I stood up and said, "Mr. Bertram, are you sure you wouldn't like anything to drink?"

  Smiling up at me, he said, "No, sir. Thank you."

  I looked down at Carter and pointed my head outside. He stood up as I said, "Will you excuse us for a moment?"

  Mr. Bertram nodded and said, "Of course. I quite understand that you may need to consult your attorney in San Francisco. I am prepared to spend the afternoon here awaiting your reply, so please do take your time."

  I smiled and said, "Thank you."

  . . .

  As we stood on the porch in front of the bedroom, looking out at the sky, I said, "That price is ridiculous."

  Carter asked, "Too high?"

  I shook my head. "Too low. That's only four times what we paid on Hartford Street for a bungalow five years ago. They should be asking two hundred thousand. At least."

  Carter said, "What are you going to do?"

  I looked up at him. At that moment, the sunlight caught a slight blond and red stubble on his chin. I stretched up and kissed it. He smiled down at me as I did. Right then an idea came to me and I liked it.

  I crossed my arms. "I'm not gonna buy this place. No sir. Not gonna do it."

  Carter looked crestfallen. "Why?"

  I shrugged. "Don't want to."

  Carter put his hands in his trouser pockets and began to pace the porch. "I don't get it, Nick. This place is paradise. I'd love to come here and spend a week or so every few months. We could fly the Lumberjack here. And I'd like to learn how to surf. Jeff makes it look so easy. And what about him and John? If the heirs sell the place, where will they go? I mean, come on Nick, look at this place. It's golden here. It's paradise. I can't believe you'd turn this offer down. It's being handed to you. Even if you just bought it and kept it for a few years, you'd make a killing when you decided to sell it--"

  I interrupted him and said, "Look, Chief. I keep hearing you talk about what I should do."

  Carter stopped pacing and looked at me. "Yeah? So? If you don't buy it, then who will?"

  I grinned. "I don't know. Who else around here is a millionaire?"

  Carter looked around as if he was going to find someone else. As what I was saying began to dawn on him, he broke out into a big, goofy grin. "Why, you bastard, Nicholas Williams."

  I just nodded and replied, "Yeah."

  . . .

  When we walked back into the living room, Mr. Bertram was still sitting in the same chair where we'd left him. We both sat down on the big sofa. He looked at me expectantly. "Have you made a decision?"

  I nodded. "I'm going to pass."

  A wave of disappointment washed over the older man's face. "That's unfortunate." He looked down at the floor and sighed.

  "But I have another buyer who's interested."

  Glancing up, he shook his head. "That's quite out of the question, Mr. Williams. I'm afraid the offer was exclusively for you."

  "How did the heirs know I could afford to buy the property?"

  Mr. Bertram blushed a little and cleared his throat. "They were alerted by an article Monday morning in the Honolulu Advertiser. It was all about the unfortunate deaths on the S.S. Hilo and how you were instrumental in preventing any additional murders."

  He paused and waited. Carter asked, "And, what else?"

  Mr. Bertram cleared his throat and continued, "That was the first part of the article. The second part detailed the last year of your so-called notorious exploits. It was quite a splash. August is, of course, a very quiet time of year for the newspapers. So, it makes sense that they would devote so much space to the topic."

  I nodded and sighed. "You're aware of the nature of our relationship?"

  The older man nodded without saying anything.

  Carter said, "I want to buy the house and the land, Mr. Bertram."

  "You, Mr. Jones?"

  "Yes, I," replied Carter with a grin.

  Mr. Bertram sat there for a long moment, blinking at us both. Finally, he stood up, with the ancient satchel in his right hand, and said, "I must consult with my clients. Will you permit me to use the telephone?"

  I nodded. "Do you know where it is?"

  "Certainly. I have used it from time to time while visiting Mr. Thompson."

  "Then maybe you could show us where it is because it hasn't rung once since we've been here. In fact, I thought maybe there wasn't a phone installed here." Carter and I both stood up.

  Mr. Bertram chuckled dryly. "Oh, no, Mr. Williams. Mr. Thompson had one of the first telephones on the island. In fact, many years ago, when numbers were first assigned, his was simply, '2'."

  . . .

  After a couple of very long phone calls, Mr. Bertram reported that his clients would happily sell to Carter Woodrow Wilson Jones.

  We sat at the large formal dining table as Carter and Mr. Bertram completed all the paperwork. Jeff had brought in a big pitcher of iced tea, which Carter and I were gulping down thirstily. He had also brought Mr. Bertram a cup of hot water with lemon which the older man gladly accepted even though he hadn't asked for it. I found that very interesting.

  As Carter put his signature on the deed transfer, he looked up and asked, "Can I write a check?"

  "Of course, Mr. Jones," the older man answered. "Or you can accompany me into Lihue and arrange for a wire transfer. Either way is amenable."

  Carter smiled and blushed faintly. "Actually, Mr. Bertram, I was asking Nick."

  I nodded. "Sure. We worked that out with Kenneth. Remember? Your checking account is funded out of the trust. That's what all that p
aperwork was about."

  Carter nodded. "That was when we set up the foundation, right?"

  "Yep." For some reason, I could feel my eyes getting wet.

  . . .

  Once everything was done and all the arrangements had been made, we walked Mr. Bertram out to his car which, it turned out, was a '25 Ford Model T Coupe that was in tip-top shape. We took a moment to admire the machine and enjoyed watching Mr. Bertram expertly start it and show us how the foot pedals and gears worked.

  Once he was on his way down the road and back to town, I put my arm in Carter's and asked, "How does it feel to own your own house and plantation?"

  Reaching down and kissing me, he simply replied, "I don't know, yet. But, I'm mighty proud to be your husband. I had a hard time not crying while I was signing all those papers."

  I nodded and said, "I know what you mean, Chief."

  . . .

  We had steak for dinner that night. As Carter was sawing into his piece of shoe leather, cooked well done just like he liked it, I said, "Well, boys, meet your new boss."

  John looked up at me and asked, "Did you buy the house, Mr. Williams?"

  I shook my head and looked at Carter who was grinning and chewing at the same time.

  Once he'd swallowed, he asked, "Would y'all be willing to continue working here?" Glancing over at me, he added, "I'll double your pay effective today."

  I nodded in agreement and smiled in reply as I drank my beer.

  John looked over at Jeff and asked, "Well? What do you think?" He reached down and handed a piece of meat to Rex, who ate it greedily and wagged his tail for more.

  Jeff took a deep breath and turned to John. "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I wanna move over to Oahu and I want you to come with me."

  John frowned. "You know I can't leave my mother. I'm the only one she has."

  Jeff nodded. "I know. I want her to come and live with us."

  John's mouth gaped open. "Are you sure? Where would we live? I can't--"

  "There's a house I want to buy. I want you to go over with me and look at it. It's on the beach north of Haleiwa, on the north side of the island. We'll surf all day long. The beach is just down the street. And there's plenty of room for your okaa-san."

  John began to cry. "I had no idea." He sat there for a long moment, looking at his plate. Finally, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and asked, "How?"

  Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his chair and didn't reply. John narrowed his eyes. "Tell me, Jeff. How can you buy this house? How can you afford to move us over there?"

  Jeff sat stone quiet. This was the only time I'd ever seen him not be able to shrug off something. Carter said what I was thinking. "Because he just inherited a lot of money from Mr. Thompson. That's how."

  I smiled at Carter who winked back at me.

  John sat up in his chair, his eyes wide with surprise. "Is that, true, Jeff?"

  Jeff just nodded but didn't reply.

  Carter stood up and said, "Come on, Nick. I wanna go look at the surf in the starlight."

  I stood up, walked over to Jeff, kissed him on the forehead, and followed Carter out onto the soft lawn and into the night.

  Epilogue

  Above the Pacific Ocean

  United Airlines Flight 48

  Thursday, August 26, 1954

  Mid-afternoon

  We were flying home. And I was happy. Ralph managed to get us out a few days earlier than we'd originally planned. He put us on a United flight to San Francisco from Honolulu and even snagged us the private stateroom in the rear of the giant Boeing 377 Stratocruiser.

  Carter was stretched out on one side of the room and snoring slightly. I knew he was snoring because his mouth was slightly open. I couldn't hear it because, even in the very back of the ship, the propellers were loud.

  I sat and looked at my handsome husband and, once again, felt a deep wave of gratitude for the man and for his love and affection. He was my best friend, my lover, and the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.

  Our so-called vacation had been interesting, to say the least. Considering we'd worked on our way across the ocean to Hawaii, I felt like we really deserved the rest we'd had for the previous few days. I was proud of Carter for buying the Thompson house. And I was proud of myself for not trying to get involved in managing the fact that the two houseboys were on their way out. After trying to figure out what to do on his own, Carter surprised me by calling Robert in San Francisco and putting him in charge of figuring out what to do. That was his job, after all, and he was damn good at it.

  I turned and looked out the window. The wide expanse of ocean was no longer as alluring to me as it had been just a few days earlier. After so much time in the heat of the tropics, I was ready for the cooler days of summer in San Francisco. When I'd talked to Marnie from the airport in Honolulu before we left at 9 that morning, she'd told me it was right around 60 when she'd headed in for the office. That sounded real good.

  As I was ruminating about things, the plane hit an air pocket and fell a few feet. This woke Carter, who sat up, looked around, and grinned at me. I liked it when he did that. It made me want to go and kiss him. And, since we had a private room all to ourselves, I did just that.

  "Have a good nap?" I asked.

  Carter nodded as he straightened his tie. "Yep. I was dreaming of surfing."

  "How'd you do?"

  "I think I wiped out."

  "What does that mean?"

  "I fell off the board."

  In the previous few days, Carter had been out on the ocean each morning with Jeff, learning the basics of riding the waves. He'd done pretty well and was having a lot of fun getting the hang of it. I'd enjoyed watching him on the big board. He was more handsome than ever, if that was even possible.

  He stood up and stretched. I looked up at him and enjoyed the view. He grinned down at me and asked, "What?"

  "Just loving you."

  . . .

  We decided to explore the lower level of the plane. We walked through the rear passenger compartment, down the spiral stairs, and into the lounge.

  It was a cozy space with banks of seats arranged like a horseshoe around a table in the aft end of the lower level. There were two couples seated, chatting quietly, and one man was standing at the bar waiting for his drink. The ceiling was about an inch too short for Carter, so he stooped over and made his way to a seat while I walked up to the bar and waited next to the man, who turned and nodded.

  "Going home?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Yeah. How 'bout you?"

  "This is a work trip for me."

  "What line are you in?"

  "I work for Ford. I was just in Honolulu meeting with our dealers in the territory. I'm on my way home to Michigan." Right then, the steward handed him a bourbon on the rocks. The man tipped his glass at me, walked over, and sat down next to Carter.

  "Sir, what can I get you?" asked the steward.

  "Do you have Burgermeister beer?" I asked.

  "Yes, in the can."

  "I'll have two of those."

  "Right away, sir."

  He reached down and grabbed two cans. Pulling a church key from his coat pocket, he opened both cans quickly. I watched as he poured them out into glasses efficiently and without spilling a drop. Taking both beers, I walked over and sat on the other side of Carter, handing him one of the glasses while I took a sip from mine.

  "You fellas traveling together?" asked the Ford man.

  I nodded and took another sip.

  Carter said, "We're on our way home."

  "Where's that?"

  "San Francisco."

  The man nodded and drank from his glass. "Beautiful city. I got to spend a couple of days there on shore leave during the war."

  "Have much fun?" asked Carter.

  "Sure. The girls in those days." He whistled and rolled his eyes as he took another drink. "My buddies and I, we had a blast. Best part of the war, if you a
sk me."

  I smiled and nodded. "Yeah. It's a great place."

  "You from there?"

  I nodded again. "Born and raised."

  Carter added, "Nick's more native than a native. His great-grandfather was in the Gold Rush."

  "That so? Those must've been the days, boy. Barbary Coast and everyone swinging from chandeliers. Of course, I just get that from the movies."

  Thinking of Uncle Paul, I said, "From what I've heard, it was like that and even more so."

  The Ford man gave me a lecherous grin. He leaned across Carter and whispered, "Now those dames, they must've been hot to trot, if you know what I mean."

  I nodded as Carter asked, "You married?"

  The man sat back up and cleared his throat. He put his drink down on the table in front of us and pulled out his wallet. "Sure am. Got a great wife at home and two terrific kids. Wanna see a couple of snapshots?"

  We both nodded as he showed us a photograph of a young woman sitting in a canoe on a lake somewhere. She was wearing a swimsuit, and her hands were shielding her eyes from the sunshine. The man said, "That's my Josie. That was when we were on our honeymoon up in Canada. Great fishing up there. You fellas like to fish?"

  . . .

  We finally escaped the lounge after the Ford man, who never gave his name, decided he needed to "hit the head." Once we were back in the stateroom, Carter sat down and loosened his tie. I stood there for a moment and looked at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me and patted the spot next to him.

  Carter said, "After all that, I need something to make me feel better." I sat down next to him. He put his arm around me and pulled me down on his lap.

  I reached up and ran my hand along the side of his face. "Poor Josie. I'm sure she's a great gal."

  Pulling me towards him as he leaned down, Carter said, "Shut up, Nick, and kiss me."

  I did what I was told.

  . . .

  I looked at my watch. It was set to San Francisco time and said 9:15. We would be landing in fifteen minutes. I put down the magazine I'd been reading and stood up to stretch. Carter was dozing again. Right then, the stewardess knocked on the door and walked in.

  "We're preparing to land, gentlemen. Could you take your seat and fasten your seat belts?"