I nodded. I'd done this kind of background check many times. "But?" I asked.
"One of the guys really knew O'Reilly's story. Wouldn't surprise me if they had been lovers at one point."
Carter said to me, "Don't you get any ideas, son." I smiled at him but waved him away.
"What'd he say?"
"Seems like there's a gap in his employment history."
"When?"
"From '38 to '41, roughly. According to this Mr. Lincoln, the one who was real friendly, O'Reilly signed up for the Merchant Marine right before Pearl Harbor. Did convoys in the North Atlantic for a while and some time in the Far East. And that's where the mystery is. Lincoln seemed to think that the missing time involved China, particularly Hong Kong."
I nodded. "That would make sense."
"What's that?"
"Didn't you two get the feeling that this guy has seen action? Real action?"
Carter and Mike shrugged.
I shook my head. "Come on. You've both worked with grizzled cops and firemen who have that way of talking around things, who don't always seem to be exactly there. You know what I mean.
Mike looked thoughtful. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I did notice something about O'Reilly. I think I was just comparing his rock solid demeanor to Bud, who is a lot like a chihuahua."
I laughed. "A mild chihuahua."
"You haven't seen him in bed."
"And, I don't plan to. Again." I had seen the two of them together, in flagrante, a few days ago.
Mike just gave me his loping smile. "So, you think he could have been running guns out of Hong Kong?"
"Could be," I replied.
I picked up the phone. Mr. Kleinberg answered this time. I asked for Captain O'Reilly's room.
When he picked up, I asked the captain to come over for one last chat. He said he'd be right over. And, in a matter of minutes, he was knocking on the door.
Once he was seated, I said, "Mike talked to both of your references."
The captain nodded. He took out his pipe and put it in his mouth without lighting it.
"They both had great things to say about you."
He smiled. "Good to know."
I nodded. "But--"
"You're wondering about '38 to '41, right?"
I nodded.
"I was working for Chiang Kai-Shek and his boys out of Hong Kong. Simple as that."
Mike asked, "Gun running?"
"Well, you'd have to ask the Generalissimo himself. I was given boats to pilot and pilot them I did. I didn't ask what was in the holds. Didn't want to know. Never lost one of them. Ran several Jap blockades." He got a faraway look that I had seen many times. He was fighting old battles in his mind.
I stood up. I looked over at Carter who nodded. I stuck out my hand.
"The job is yours if you want it."
The man stood and shook my hand.
Carter said, "One last question."
O'Reilly smiled at Carter.
"How much are you wanting to get paid?" He said it very slow and seductive. I had a momentary flair of jealousy. But I could see what he was doing.
The captain roared with laughter. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. He hooked his thumb in Carter's direction. "He's got you wrapped around his finger, don't he?"
I crossed my arms.
"No offense meant. Pardon me for putting my foot in it and not five minutes hired. But I've never been propositioned quite like that before. Makes me feel quite handsome and debonair." He stood up, walked to the door, and opened it. "$300 a week will suit me fine and I think you'll find that comes cheap. I don't need time off because I'm gonna bed down with one of your crewmen. I've met them all and realized, in about five minutes, I could have my pick of the lot. So, thank you for the job, Mr. Williams. I'm off to celebrate in my own way. Tomorrow, I'll take you to breakfast and we can talk about repairs and renovations."
I tried not to stand there slack-jawed. Carter walked over to the man and said, "Welcome aboard, O'Reilly." He put out his hand and they shook.
O'Reilly waved his pipe at me and walked out, crossed the parking lot and, as I could see from the window, knocked on the door of the senior crewman, whose name I didn't know, but who was the best-looking of the bunch. He was the British one.
I looked at Mike and Carter. "What the hell just happened?"
Mike shrugged. "Looks like you just hired yourself a ship's captain. And that's a man I would, without a doubt, trust with my life."
I nodded and said, "Me too."
Chapter 9
Balboa Theater
Newport Beach, Cal.
Sunday, May 30, 1953
Just past 7 in the evening
That night, Carter and I decided to go to take in a movie. There was a theater a couple of blocks down the street showing Young Bess, a new film with Stewart Granger and Debra Kerr about young Queen Elizabeth, the old one not the new one. I liked going to the movies with Carter because we got to hold hands in the dark.
The Sunday night theater wasn't very full. We waited until the usher let us in after the previous film was finished. We took seats in the back under the balcony. We did this for two reasons. First, Carter doesn't block anyone that way. Second, we can hold hands. I like that.
As soon as we sat down, the newsreel started. I heard Carter say, "Uh oh," as he squeezed my hand. I had been looking around at the theater itself, which seemed to date to the '30s. I looked at the screen and saw, "News Of The Day." I sighed. This was a Hearst newsreel.
I waited and wondered. Each story was about thirty to forty-five seconds long. When the fifth one started, Carter squeezed my hand again and whispered, "Here we go."
"Hollywood Mourns!"
"A star-studded array of Hollywood notables attended the double funeral of two bright stars, now lost to eternity."
The screen showed a parade of stars, all in black, some wearing sunglasses, and most ducking the cameras.
"Dispatched to an eternal rest are Taylor Wells, young leading man, and his co-star Rhonda Darling."
The next scene was of a large crowd standing in a cemetery around a minister looking at a Bible.
"Wells, murdered under mysterious circumstances in Mexico. His bride-to-be, Miss Darling, on her way home from the tragic scene, killed in auto crash near San Diego."
The next shot was of a pan across the front of the hotel in Ensenada where everything had happened. The grainy film looked like an old stock footage shot.
"Tragedy in paradise. Mexican police have no suspect."
Then, the screen shifted abruptly to the familiar scene of a Senate hearing room.
"Army Hearings In Senate!"
"Senator Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin convenes new panel on famed Presidio in San Francisco."
In the theater audience a couple of people hissed. One person booed. The next shot cut to McCarthy speaking. It had obviously been edited to remove some words, probably "homos" or "perverts."
"For too long, these...have gone unchecked by the Army. We will get to the bottom of this, I promise you."
The final story was about a dancing dog. Then the cartoon started. It was a Barney Bear. He was digging for treasure and was thwarted again and again by a beaver. It was just silly enough to make us both laugh, which was good.
. . .
After the movie, we ducked into a nearby diner. Carter loved to collect hamburger sandwiches, so that's what he ordered. This place served enchiladas, so I had an order of that. All in all, it was good but greasy. I decided to finish with a dish of chocolate ice cream to settle my stomach. Carter had a cup of Sanka while I had the real thing.
As we ate, we talked about the last several days. It seemed to me that life had taken on a surreal whirlwind quality to it. Everything was moving so fast.
Carter said, practically, "Let's take the train to Washington, then."
I took a sip of my coffee. I thought about it. "Should we get a private car?" We did that once when we went from San Franci
sco to New York City.
Carter shook his head. "No. We can get a double roomette or whatever they're called."
"Are you sure you won't be cramped?" Those Pullman car beds weren't designed for giants like Carter.
He thought about it. "Maybe let's fly instead."
"We could drive?"
Carter laughed. "No. That'll take a couple of weeks or more."
"What? Don't want to spend that much time together?" I was teasing him.
He smiled his slow Georgia smile.
I said, "Carter Jones. Don't you do that to me."
"You know how I feel about our time together. It's never enough. But, if we're gonna spend that much time together, I want to do it in bed." He was whispering when he said this. It was just about the sexiest thing he'd ever said to me, and that was saying a lot.
"I'll call Ralph in the morning and get that ball rolling." Ralph was my friendly travel agent in San Francisco.
"Make it Tuesday morning. We're not in that big of a hurry."
I smiled. "You're right. Although..."
"Yeah, me too. Let's go."
We paid the check at the counter and headed out the door. As we did, the same man who'd been following me earlier in the day walked up and said, "Evenin' gentlemen." He had a slight southern accent.
I said, "Evenin'," and kept walking. Carter was right next to me.
"Mr. Williams?"
We were now all walking together. Carter and I were next to each other and the F.B.I. agent was behind us.
"Mr. Williams. Please stop."
I did. As I turned around, he pulled a document out of his coat.
"This is for you." I took the paper. It was obviously a subpoena. The agent continued, "You have been served by the United States Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations. You are to appear in Washington, D.C., before this subcommittee no later than 10 a.m. on Tuesday, June 3rd. Failure to appear may result in your being found in contempt of Congress."
I took the paper and put it in my coat pocket. "Isn't it unusual for an F.B.I. agent to serve subpoenas for Congress? I thought the Marshalls usually did that."
The man smiled. He was oddly friendly, which made me think immediately of Nacho. He took out a pack of Parliament cigarettes and tapped one out. "Normally, that would be the case. Either one of you have a light?"
I was very curious about this man, so I took out my lighter and lit his cigarette for him. He held my hand as I did so and it was very deliberate. Again, I was reminded of Nacho. He looked up into my eyes and smiled.
I closed my lighter and dropped it in my pocket. I got a good look. Muscular build. About an inch shorter than me. Brown hair. Nondescript face. Perfect for following people. He would be hard to describe later. Definitely, unless I was mistaken, one of us.
"So, why did you get the job?"
He took a big puff and blew it out over his shoulder. "Was assigned to keep tabs on you and make sure you didn't go anywhere until we had the subpoena to give you. The, um, senator is very interested in this case, you could say."
I nodded. "I see. And you are?"
He had been holding his cigarette. He put it in his mouth and said, "Sorry. I'm Special Agent Beauregard Anderson. Call me Andy." He stuck out his hand.
I looked up at Carter, who was frowning again. But I shook anyway.
Agent Anderson offered his hand to Carter.
Carter shook the man's hand wordlessly. His frown deepened. This was a look I'd only seen a couple of times in the six years I'd known him.
Agent Anderson seemed to be oblivious to the storm on Carter's face. He turned to me. "So, will you gentlemen be flying out tomorrow? I need to let my boss know. I don't want to have to arrest you."
Carter snapped to attention as though he'd just remembered something important and asked, "Beauregard Anderson?"
The man looked up and said, "Yep." He was smiling from ear-to-ear.
Carter put his right hand on his face and rubbed his chin. I moved forward and grabbed his right arm. That move meant that he was getting ready to throw a punch.
As soon as I did that, Carter got the message and relaxed. Then he said, "I never thought I'd see the likes of you again. I suppose that's why you're here?"
Agent Anderson took another deep drag on his cigarette. When he spoke, his accent was much thicker. "Hell, no, Carter. I can't believe you didn't recognize me earlier." He spoke like he was from Georgia.
"You're real lucky that Nick is here to remind me what kind of trouble I could get into from assaultin' a federal agent."
"I wouldn't hold it against you. I'm sure I deserve it. How's Henry?"
This was a surprising turn of events.
"He's fine. I'm sure he does not send his regards. Now, if you'll excuse us." Carter made a move to leave. I stood there. I had a feeling that Agent Anderson had more to say and I wanted to hear it.
"You comin', son?"
I shook my head. "You go on. I'll be there in a minute."
He shrugged and said, "Suit yourself." He turned and walked quickly toward the motel.
Most every part of me wanted to follow him, but the part of me that could smell a lead was buzzing. I didn't know why and I wanted to find out.
"So, how do you know Carter and Henry?"
"We grew up together." He was now back to speaking like he had before.
"Beauregard is an unusual name. I would remember it if he had mentioned you. Wonder why he hasn't?"
"Probably because I was a real shithead to him and Henry and I wouldn't want to talk about it if I was him." Holding the stub end of the cigarette in his mouth, he reached for another in the pack and lit it from the burning end. When it was lit, he tossed the old one on the sidewalk and stubbed it out.
It was close to 10 p.m. and, although the street wasn't deserted, there were very few passers-by. I stood there looking at him, trying to imagine why this man was here.
"Did the Bureau assign you to us since they knew your connection?"
"No. I volunteered. I'm in the L.A. office. Have been ever since I finished training after the war."
"Where'd you serve?"
"Army. M.P. Started in England with the Army Air Corps. Then in France and Germany with Eisenhower."
"With Eisenhower?"
"In his command."
That was impressive. That would mean he had worked for the man who had been inaugurated President in January. I wondered why he was only a lowly agent in the Bureau.
"So, what's the bad blood between you and Carter?"
"I should probably let him tell you. It's his story, not mine."
With that, I'd had all I wanted of this. "Will we be seeing you on Tuesday?"
"If you show up, then no. Otherwise, you'll see a lot of me."
"Then I'll say goodbye." I shook his hand. He held it two beats too long.
Chapter 10
Trail's End Motel
Sunday, May 30, 1953
Later in the evening
When I walked in the motel room, Carter was in bed. He was on his side reading his dragons and dwarves book.
"Where are they now?" I asked as I took off my tie.
"The drag on knows they're on his mountain."
"Is that bad?"
"It's gonna be." He closed the book with a snap. "You know what else is gonna be bad? If I see that goddam son of a bitch again, I'm gonna slug him. And they can put me in jail for it, too. Damn! I can't believe I didn't recognize him earlier." He was sitting up now, shirtless, looking sexy as hell, and in a real froth about this.
I went to the sink to brush my teeth. As I was sprinkling the dental powder on my toothbrush I asked, "You wanna tell me what happened back in Albany?"
I couldn't see him but got no answer. I ran a trickle of water over the powder and started to brush. As I did, I saw him come up behind me. His eyes were red.
I spit out what was in my mouth and quickly rinsed. Dropping the toothbrush in the sink, I turned around. Carter was standing in his BV
Ds and bent over, like he was carrying a massive weight.
I took him by the arm and sat him on the edge of the bed. I pulled up a chair and got as close to him as I could. I ran my hand through his hair. I stood up again, and kicked the chair away. Then I pulled his head to my chest. When I did that, he started bawling.
This went on for a while. I didn't ask him anything. I just waited until he was ready to talk. I stood there, stroking the back of his head while he leaned into my chest. His sobs were loud and they were deep. It was breaking my heart to listen to him.
Finally, he stopped. He took a deep breath and stood up. He pulled me into a big hug and we stood there for a moment. Then he pulled away and went to the sink. He ran the water and splashed his face again and again. He stood up and looked in the mirror. I was watching him and could see his face.
Suddenly, he rammed his fist into the glass. A thousand pieces went in every direction. The sound wasn't as loud as I thought it would be, but it was startling.
I took a deep breath and watched him look at his fist. From what I could see it wasn't bleeding, which was surprising.
There was a knock at the door. I grabbed my shirt since I was down to only my BVDs, garters, and socks. I opened the door slightly. Mike was standing there, looking concerned.
"Go get a broom and a dustpan," I said in a low voice. He nodded. I shut the door.
. . .
I told Carter to lie back in bed. After Mike returned, he and I quietly swept up as much of the broken glass as we could find. He never asked anything and I never said anything. Every now and then I would glance at Carter. He was stretched out looking at the ceiling but not saying anything, either.
Mike was emptying the last bit of glass in the trash can when Carter said, "He violated us."
I stopped. Mike stopped. He moved to leave but Carter said, "No, stay."
Mike sat down in one of the chairs and I sat down on the bed next to Carter.
"It was in the summer of '35. I hadn't had my growth spurt yet and was a little squirt, like Henry. He was 13. I was 14. Andy was a year older. And he developed early. He was tall and big."
Carter took a deep breath and asked, "Got a Camel for me, Nick?"
The Sartorial Senator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 3) Page 6
