I stood up and grabbed one out of my coat. I lit it and handed it to him. He took a deep drag and coughed a little. These days, he smoked even less than me.
I handed him an ashtray, which he put on his chest. He was still looking up at the ceiling.
As he talked, Carter spoke in a monotone, like was reading the news. "Andy asked me one day if I wanted to come over and see his fort. He had built a shack sort of thing in the woods behind his house. Henry and I went because, well, who wouldn't? Andy had always been friendly enough. But he had his own crowd and Henry and I had each other.
"He took us back there and then..." He stopped.
I waited. I watched him. He was crying again. He took another puff, a little shaky this time, and then he said, "Anyway. He told us it was a game. And, at first it felt good. Henry and I had probably been working up to doing that anyway. I thought it was wonderful. It was like a light turned on in my mind for the first time. In those first few minutes, I realized, in my 14-year-old way, that I was in love with Henry. I didn't know what that meant, of course." He took another final puff and stubbed out the cigarette. He picked up the ashtray and put it on the night stand.
"Then it got bad. Andy... well, he forced himself on both of us. I don't know why neither of us tried to protect the other. I think it was because part of it felt good. Now that I'm older I know why it did. But it wasn't what I wanted. It was such a goddam roller coaster."
He closed his eyes. I waited. Mike waited. Neither of us spoke.
"Then it was over and Andy was happy and thought we should be happy. Henry went home. I went home." He stopped and looked right at me for a moment as if he was checking to make sure I was still there with him. I nodded slightly to let him know I was with him and I was listening.
He continued, "I moped around a bit until I realized I needed a bath. That made my mama suspicious because I hated baths. I just told her I'd fallen into something nasty and wanted it off me. Because I had. And I did."
He sighed and looked at me again. I nodded again. "I didn't see much of Henry the rest of that summer. We kept to ourselves. I went out of my way to avoid Andy and that seemed to make him angry. When school started in the fall, Henry and I got to talkin' again. Course, we never said anything about it.
"After a few weeks of school, Andy started picking on us both. He was pretty relentless. Even though we were still both short, we were pretty good scrappers and we could hold our own."
I wondered if they had become "pretty good scrappers" after going to Andy's fort.
"By the end of that school year, I had grown a lot. I probably was over six feet by the summertime. And I was restless."
He stopped and asked me, "How about another one, Nick?" I obliged by lighting a Camel and handing to him. I leaned across him to grab the ashtray. As I did, Carter reached up and put his hand on my face for a moment. I looked down at him, feeling everything but mostly love. I could feel my eyes getting wet like they do sometimes.
Once he was settled, I sat back, and he continued. "One night, Andy came by while I was sitting out on the front porch. Seemed like he wanted to talk. So, I let him. He asked if I ever wanted to visit his fort again. I just smiled and said, 'Sure.' He got all excited and asked, 'How 'bout now?' I said, 'Sure,' and off we went. We cut through the woods and, when we were about fifty feet from my house, I started whalin' on him. I probably woulda killed him, too, only I started bawlin' and couldn't stop. He crawled home and I sat there, under a tree, 'til I heard my mama calling for me. When I got home, she asked what happened and I just went into my room, and closed the door, and laid there all night not sleepin'."
I reached over and put my hand on his leg. He let out a big sigh and relaxed as I did.
He propped himself up and looked over at Mike. "You know, part of the reason I wanted to be a fireman was so I could be a good guy."
Mike nodded. "I know." I knew Mike well enough to know that had been his inspiration for becoming a cop.
"I wanted to do things for people that I knew would help 'em," Carter said. "Something about what happened with Andy drove me in that direction."
He took a deep breath and sighed loudly.
"Between my daddy and my memories of Andy, I guess those are the two people I should thank."
Mike asked, "Thank for what?"
"For getting me the hell out of Albany and finding a place where I could live in peace. And for making it possible to meet you." He was looking at me now. I got a chill down the back of my neck. It reminded me of the afternoon when we'd first met. As the song said, it was definitely, "Some Enchanted Evening."
I smiled at him and said, "Well, I'll save my gratitude for you. If it hadn't been for you, Carter, I don't know where I would be."
We sat there for a long time, looking at each other, just like we'd done when we'd first met. Mike stood up quietly and let himself out the door.
I stood up, locked the door, and turned out the light. In the darkness I heard Carter say, "I never thought I'd ever be able to tell you all that. I'm glad I did. It feels like a huge weight is gone."
I sat down on the edge of the bed. As I pulled off my shirt, my garters, and my socks, I said, "I'm glad you did, too. You never fucking cease to amaze me, Carter Jones." With that, I slid into bed next to him and reached around. He let me hold him and we fell asleep just like that.
. . .
The next morning, I called Ralph.
"Well, hello you. Every time I open a newspaper, I see your handsome face. Poor Taylor Wells! What a tragedy! But, don't you know, I've had three clients already trying to get bookings at the Riviera Del Pacifico but they are full up. That's what happens when a place gets notoriety from a tragedy. He was so handsome. And I heard she had a girlfriend and that's who was driving the car! I suppose you want to fly to Washington so you can go see that horrid McCarthy. Some people just don't know when to stop. Where are you?"
Ralph was like that. He would just go on and on and then stop. I never tried to interrupt. It was useless, anyway. Plus, he always had a few tidbits if I let him ramble on.
"We're in Newport Beach. We need to get to Washington today."
"Well, you'll have to drive up to L.A. That'll be fastest. I can get you on Trans World from L.A. to Chicago and then through Columbus to Washington. Should put you in National about 9 tonight. But you're gonna have to hurry. The flight leaves L.A. International at 11:15."
"Perfect. We'll be there. Thanks Ralph."
"Wait, honey. What about hotel, rental car?"
"Can you set that up and I'll call you from L.A. or Chicago if it gets tight?"
"Sure thing. I'll probably put you in the Willard. And you're a Hertz boy, right?"
"Right. I have an account with them."
"Great. Look, doll, you go to Washington and you give 'em hell!"
I laughed. "You'll never guess who suggested the same thing to me on Saturday night."
"Who!?" was his breathless reply.
"Miss Bette Davis."
"Well, aren't you traveling in the first circles these days? What was she like?"
"Very charming and very friendly."
"I would have just been prostrate and overcome if it had been me. Oh my!"
"Well, thanks Ralph."
"You're welcome." He hung up and the line went dead.
I walked back up to the motel. Agent Anderson was standing at the corner watching me as he had been since I got on the phone. "You get your travel arrangements made?" I nodded. I wasn't sure how to react so I put on my stony face.
"He tell you?"
I nodded and kept walking.
. . .
After getting everything settled with the Kleinbergs, including paying for the broken mirror, we were packed and loaded up by 8. I hoped we would make it on time.
Mike was going to stick around for another day or two and help Captain O'Reilly try to get access to the ship so he could assess it for repairs. I gave Mike the briefcase of cash and asked him to take O'Reilly
to the bank to open a safety deposit box. We'd kept it in the Kleinbergs' small safe since Saturday but taking it back to the bank for safekeeping was the wiser option.
Over a cup of coffee, I had told the captain I wanted a complete overhaul of the interior. I mentioned that Captain Jennings knew a man in Laguna Beach who could do the design. O'Reilly said he knew who that was and would recommend him as well. I told him to get that going and that we would be in touch. I remembered to mention how I wanted the beds to be the right size for Mike and Carter and our need for a big shower in our suite. I also gave him the office number and the house number and Marnie's name, since that was the best way for him to reach me if he needed.
He and the crew were going to bunk at the motel until the ship was ready to move to San Francisco. Everyone seemed good with this, although Bud was hoping to go north with Mike when he left in the next couple of days. I pulled Mike aside and said that was fine by me but that, if he wanted to blame me for making Bud stay in Newport Beach, that was fine by me, too.
As we drove north along the coast highway with the top down, neither of us spoke much although we did hold hands.
. . .
We made it to the airport in L.A. with time to spare, even though it was a Monday morning and traffic had been heavy in a few spots up the coast.
I checked in with Ralph and he had us booked at The Willard for a week. He said all they had was a suite. That was fine with me.
Once we were in the air, I fell asleep. It was about six hours to Chicago and I slept the entire way. The night before, Carter had been restless and I kept waking up whenever he would turn over in bed, so I was tired.
I woke up when the captain announced over the loudspeaker that we were getting ready to land in Chicago. I stretched and looked over at Carter. He was deep in his book.
"What's happening now?"
"There's a battle. I keep having to go back and re-read because I can't keep up with everything."
"How's your knee with all this sitting?"
He moved it around a little. "Pretty good. I've been up and down while you've been sleepin'. It's kinda achy but not bad."
"And, how're you feelin'?" I kept my tone light and breezy.
He snapped the book close and, using his long arm, put it up on the shelf above our heads. In a flash that was so quick that I almost didn't believe it happened, he took my hand in his, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed it. I blushed, which I rarely do.
The plane wasn't full and, in fact, we were seated up in the front with no one nearby. I wanted to kiss him back but decided to wait until we could be in a place where we could do more than kiss.
Chapter 11
In the air approaching Chicago, Ill.
Monday, May 31, 1953
Mid-afternoon
As we descended from the sunshine into a bank of clouds, the stewardess was walking past us towards her seat. Suddenly the plane dropped several feet in the air. She managed to grab on to the seat in front of Carter without falling. As the plane began to rattle in the turbulence, she sat down right there and fastened her seat belt.
We held on as the plane bounced and dropped and bounced again. After about ten minutes of this, there was a very bright flash and an almost deafening explosive noise.
The stewardess reached across the window seat and looked out for a moment. She brought her hand to her mouth. As she did this, Carter reached across me and looked out the window, as well. Very quietly he said, "The first engine is on fire."
As he was speaking, I could hear the sound of the big propeller engine being turned off by someone up front. The plane jerked to the left and then stabilized. I looked out the window, saw that the propeller was no longing moving, and that the fire was going out.
After a couple more minutes of bouncing and falling, we emerged out of the clouds and into the rain below. I wondered if the captain would try to land the ship under these conditions.
As we continued our descent in the turbulent weather, the plane pitched to the right and to the left, but not too much either way. Obviously, we had an experienced crew.
Finally the captain spoke tersely over the loudspeaker.
"We're going to try to land. Hold on."
The stewardess stood up unsteadily and turned toward the rest of the cabin. "Remove eyeglasses and brace for impact."
She used her arms to show us what she meant. Since she had been seated in the front row, she moved to the aisle seat across from Carter and fastened herself in.
At the rear of the plane, I could hear the other stewardess repeat the instructions.
Carter and I leaned in to brace against the seats in front of us. He asked, "How's this compared to sailin' through a hurricane?"
I smiled to myself. "At least we'll know how it's going to turn out in a moment or two."
He said, "You know I love you, right?"
"Yes. And you know I love you, right?"
"Yes. 'Bout last night--"
"You're the bravest man I know Carter Jones. I don't know why--"
At that moment, two things happened. The wheels touched the runway and we began to skid to the left. As that was going on, both stewardesses were yelling, "Brace! Brace!"
The plane skidded more to the left and then corrected back to the right. In another moment, we were moving steadily forward, and then we turned towards the terminal.
I lifted up my head and looked out the window. It was just raining. Nothing more than that. I saw a couple of bolts of lightning off in the distance. The whole thing felt anti-climactic.
. . .
After we came to a stop, the pilot spoke over the loudspeaker.
"All passengers will need to deplane here in Chicago. If you are going on to Columbus or Washington, please stay near the gate for more information."
We both stood up and stretched. Carter bent over, peered out the window, and had a look at the wing.
"I doubt this plane is going anywhere today."
I sighed. I looked around and didn't see Agent Anderson on the plane. I had meant to check once we were in flight, but I had slept the whole trip. I doubted we would be arrested for a lightning strike to our plane, but with this committee, you really couldn't tell.
We gathered our things, put on our hats, and walked down the stairs out into the rain. It was a short, but drenching, walk to the covered walkway that led into the terminal.
As we walked in, I could hear my name.
"Will Washington passenger Nicholas Williams please check in with the Trans World Airlines desk? Nicholas Williams. Please check in with the Trans World Airlines desk."
Carter and I looked around. I had no idea what that meant. There was a man with a clipboard in a coat with the TWA logo embroidered on it standing next to the gate door. We walked over to him.
"Pardon me."
He looked up. "Yes?"
"Where is the TWA desk?"
"Are you Mr. Williams?"
I nodded.
Using his pencil, he pointed off to the right towards a newsstand. There was Agent Anderson.
"That man wanted to see you."
"Thanks."
Carter made a noise. Under my breath, I said, "I know. Let me do the talking."
We walked over. The agent had a placid look on his face.
"What?" was my opening line.
"Change of plans."
I looked around. "What are you talking about?"
"I got here about 30 minutes ago on a United flight. When I called to check in, I was told to tell you to go back to California. The hearing has been canceled."
"Why?"
"Don't know."
I looked at him hard. "You are real lucky that you have a badge. Otherwise you would probably be in traction right now."
He took off his hat and looked up at Carter.
"I know that it's too--"
Carter shook his head and walked over to the coffee shop that was next to the newsstand.
Agent Anderson looked at me. "I suppose I des
erve anything he wants to give me. I don't know how to say I'm sorry."
"He already gave you the thrashing you deserve. I was talking about what I would do to you." I held up my left hand in a fist. There was a simple gold band on my pinkie finger, which caught my attention as it glowed in the overhead light of the terminal building. Carter had given it to me last week at the beach in Mexico.
I looked at it, turned it with my right hand, thought about what I was saying, and took a deep breath. "And, if you really want to apologize, then you start by writing a letter and saying that you're sorry." I stepped in a little closer, without getting too close. "And you don't say things like, 'If I knew then what I know now.' You just fucking say you're goddam sorry. I'm sure you have our address."
I turned around and went to find my husband.
. . .
While Carter went to get our luggage, I put in a call to Ralph.
"Is it raining in Chicago? It's always raining there. If it's not raining, then it's snowing. I don't know why anyone flies through the Midwest. There's always a tornado or a thunderstorm. Particularly in the summer and it's already June. My, how the time flies. So, you want me to get you set up downtown or out by the airport? You and that tall drink of water stayed at The Palmer House last time. How about that? Nice suite?"
I laughed. "Sure. That's fine."
"Then I'll call The Willard and let them know you'll be a day late."
"Actually, cancel The Willard. We're going back to San Francisco in the morning."
"Praise the saints!"
I laughed. "So, we'll need to be on a flight out of here in the morning. But not too early."
"Of course not. You leave it to me sweets. I'll get you taken care of. I'll let Hertz know as well. You're not going to rent a car there? Driving in Chicago is madness."
"No, no. We'll get a cab."
"Fine. By the time you get to the hotel, they'll know to expect you. Oh! Nick! You'll never guess who I saw last night!"
"Who?"
"The Nightingale herself!" The Nightingale of Grant Street was an illusionist, a man who dressed as a woman on stage, who performed at The Black Cat, a bar at the very south end of North Beach. In the daytime, his name was José Sarria. Carter and I were big fans and had been since we'd first met.
The Sartorial Senator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 3) Page 7
