Right now I'm doing what I can to make amends.
Andy
I looked up. Carter was angry. He asked me, "What does he mean by amends?"
"Well, he's already done one thing by keeping us, or me, from being arrested by the Bureau."
"Do you know that independently?"
"No."
"And you believe him?"
"It doesn't matter whether I believe him. I do, but that's beside the point."
Carter nodded. He was thawing.
"We'll never be friends."
I nodded. "I think he's putting his career on the line to help us."
"Well, great." He rolled his eyes.
"What?"
"I suppose he's another one you'll want to bring on board?"
I shrugged. I had, in fact, been thinking about it ever since our conversation yesterday.
"Well, I'll quit before I work with him."
I nodded.
He stood up and reached out his right hand. "Gimme that letter." I did.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To talk to him."
"No violence."
Carter spread out his arms sarcastically. "This is high society, son. We're at The Willard, for fuck sake. Of course not." He turned and walked towards Andy.
I watched Andy’s face as Carter started talking to him. At first, it was closed and neutral. Andy was leaning against a pillar and Carter was talking down at him. That was the best way to describe it. I couldn’t hear Carter or see his face, but I could see him pointing at Andy vigorously.
After about five minutes, Andy started nodding. He pursed his lips and stopped moving his head as Carter put his hand on Andy’s shoulder. It didn't look friendly to me.
I felt a strong urge to stand up and walk over there but decided to wait and see what happened. Carter put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out the letter. I watched him open it and thump it with the fingers of his right hand.
Over the din of the lobby I could hear him say, "Huh? Huh?" Andy shrugged.
I wondered what part Carter was talking about.
Just then a large group of women, all wearing big colorful hats, clacked their way across the marble floor as a single unit. I lost sight of the two of them for a moment. Once the group was gone, both Carter and Andy had disappeared.
I waited for a moment and then decided to pick up the phone.
"This is Mr. Williams again."
"Yes, sir."
"Can you connect me to Capitol 2400 again?"
"Certainly. One moment."
A pleasant voice answered and said, "United States Senate."
"Room 122, please."
"One moment."
I waited as the line buzzed a couple of times. "Senator McCarthy's office."
"This is Nick Williams calling Robert Kennedy."
"Hold on." I heard a click and waited.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Kennedy?"
"Yes?"
"This is Nick Williams returning your call."
"Thank you Mr. Williams. I'm calling because I have some questions for you. Will you have some time this afternoon to meet? I can come to you. I understand you're at The Willard." His voice was pure Boston. Unlike his older brother Jack, he didn't speak smoothly. His pronunciation was careful and halting.
"Yeah." I looked at my watch. It was just past 11.
"How about 2?" I asked.
"Fine, fine. Where should I meet you?"
"Meet us at the bar."
"Us?"
"Yeah. I'm with my partner Carter Jones but I know you know that already."
"I see. Well, I want to have a private interview with you."
"Unless it's official, it's me and Carter or no one. Take your pick."
"Fine." He sounded a little angry. "I'll see you at the bar at 2." He dropped the phone abruptly.
I depressed the switch hook on the phone and waited for the operator.
"Operator."
"This is Mr. Williams again."
"Yes, sir."
"Can you place a long distance call, collect, for me?"
"Number?"
"It's in San Francisco. Underhill 7537."
"One moment."
As I waited, I looked for Carter and Andy and couldn't see them. Holding the phone in my hand, I stood up and surveyed the lobby. I saw them sitting across from each other. Carter was leaning in listening. Andy was saying something, and it looked very involved. Suddenly Carter laughed.
I sat back down, very relieved, and put the phone to my ear. I heard Marnie saying, "Nick! Are you there?"
"I'm here doll. Just got interrupted by a miracle. How are you?"
"Fine. Mother is so happy to be here. She's started meeting some of the mah-jong ladies."
"Oh no!"
"Yes! And she's been setting them straight, if you'll pardon the expression, on you and Carter."
"Really?"
"We've been here two days and she's already been to two mah-jong parties and was invited to dinner up the street tonight."
"She works fast."
"When Mother has a burr in her saddle, you better watch out."
"What brought all this on?"
"She was at the Eureka Super Market on Monday afternoon and came across a group of ladies talking about you and how they wanted to run you out of the neighborhood."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Well, she laid down the law. And, you know how Mother is. When she says it's so, you can't talk her out of it."
I didn't know that, but it was good to have her on our side.
"So, any messages?"
"That Ben called the service yesterday afternoon. He said they are coming back to town today. Wanted to know if you have any work for him."
"Did he leave a number?"
"No."
"Look up Carlo Martinelli on Dolores in Polk's. Call over there this afternoon and tell them to get in touch with Mike. He's in charge."
"Sure."
"He'll be back in town today, as well."
"OK."
"And if Mike asks you to do anything, you will, right?"
"Sure, Nick. He's the President, right?"
"Yeah. Speaking of that, any word from Jeffery?"
"Yeah. He says he's working on the papers to incorporate. He also left a message with the service last night to say that he had met with Henry and that's going forward, too. I guess you know what that means."
"Sure do, doll. I'm helping Henry set up his own engineering firm."
"So generous, Nick."
"What else, doll?"
"That's it. Diane has been by to check on Mother and me and make sure we're comfortable. I like her. That Pam. I don't know."
"If you're not one of the boys, Pam is hard to get to know."
"I guess. Their dogs are real cute. Diane showed me how to get in their gate so I could go over and play with them during the day while they're both at work."
"Well, let 'em live it up now. When you move out to the beach, those mutts are gonna be lonely."
"Oh, Nick." She giggled.
"Anything else?"
"That's all. When will you be home?"
"Dunno right now. Might be another week or so."
"You miss it?"
"You have no idea. If I could get me and Carter on a plane home right now, I would."
I looked up and saw Carter and Andy walking towards me.
"Gotta go, doll. Call me here at the hotel with any messages. Will talk to ya soon."
"Bye, Nick." I dropped the phone on the cradle and stood up.
Andy said, "Thanks, Nick." He stuck out his hand and I shook it.
I looked up at Carter, who was smiling and happy.
I said to Andy, "That Kennedy from McCarthy's office is coming over to meet with us at 2."
Andy nodded. "Be careful. He's got a real temper. And..." He looked up at Carter. "He's been known to take swings at big guys just for the fun of it."
Carter shrugged. "I'l
l be good."
I nodded and said, "You'll be great."
Chapter 20
The Willard Hotel
Wednesday, June 2, 1953
Just past 1 in the afternoon
Andy had lunch with us in the dining room. He and Carter started talking about their childhood experiences in Albany, Georgia.
At one point, Andy looked at me and asked, "How was it living on Nob Hill when you were a kid?"
Carter answered for me. "It was hell. I've heard a lot and suspect I haven't heard most of it. Makes Sunday picnics with the Kluxers sound like a day at the beach."
I was sipping on a beer and just nodded. I wasn't in the mood. I wanted to hear their stories. No one wants to know what it's like to live in a gloomy old mansion with an angry old man. Particularly when neither the mansion nor the man were actually that old.
I asked Andy, "What does the Bureau think about you hanging around known and avowed homosexuals?"
Andy looked at Carter who looked at me.
I started to laugh. "You're kidding, right?"
Carter smiled. Andy said, "I put in my notice. No one tried to convince me otherwise. I talked to my station chief back in L.A. last night and he just told me to get back there to clean out my desk."
"Do you have to do any paperwork?"
"Of course."
I looked at Carter who was watching me closely. "How did we get here exactly, Carter Woodrow Wilson Jones?"
Andy spit out the coffee he was drinking. "What?"
I turned and said, "You don't know Carter's middle names?"
He shook his head.
"He's named for the greatest Democratic President of the Twentieth Century. According to his mother. Of course, in that fine southern tradition, his first name is his mother's maiden name since he's the second son."
Andy nodded and looked at Carter who merely shrugged.
I stared at Carter intently. "I repeat: How did we get here?"
"What do you mean?"
I looked at Andy. "I had to tell you to lay off the violence and now you want to bring him on board." Andy stared at his coffee cup.
Carter smiled. "I know. I can't explain it, either." He looked over at Andy with real affection. I had seen him look at Henry the same way.
I asked, "If you can't go home, you can at least have good memories of home nearby?"
Carter looked thoughtful. "Something like that. You have a whole city. I have Henry."
"And jars of jam," I added.
Andy asked, "Jam?"
I said, "Mrs. Jones' amazing world-famous red plum jam. A couple dozen jars are smuggled to us every year by Carter's aunt, under cover of being for the local orphans or the Confederate Veterans." I took a sip of beer from my glass. "I'll admit that it's expensive. The Dougherty County Hospital Board gets a sizable check every year from the Williams Benevolent Foundation in exchange. Worth every penny."
"No lie?" asked Andy.
"I would never lie about jam," I replied with all sincerity.
. . .
Andy was a free agent at this point. He was expected back in L.A. to do paperwork that would complete his resignation from the Bureau. But that was the extent of his obligation to them. After that, his career as a civil servant was ended.
As we sat and sipped coffee waiting for 2 p.m. to roll around, I asked Andy, "Has Robert Kennedy ever seen you?"
"Not that I know of."
"Did you talk to him on the phone?"
"Yes. I told him you were here and helping out Senator Bushman. How's that going, if I can ask?"
"You can ask but you wouldn't believe where it's led. However, what I was wondering is if you would sit at the bar, down from us a bit, and listen in?"
"Sure." He took a sip of coffee. As he put it down, I heard a voice say, "Paging Mr. Williams. Nicholas Williams." I looked around and saw one of the bellmen. I waved him over.
"Mr. Williams?"
"Yeah?"
"There's a call for you. Just pick up a lobby phone and let the operator know."
"Thanks."
Carter was closest to him and handed him a folded five. I tried not to smile. The kid looked down at it and said, "Gee. Thanks mister!"
Andy said, "You sure are free with the money there ,Carter."
I stood up. Carter looked at me and winked. "I learned from the master."
. . .
"This is Nick Williams."
"I have a call for you. Will you hold?"
"Sure."
I heard a couple of clicks. "Nick?"
It was Runson.
"Yes, Lieutenant. How are you?"
"Fine. Look. I want to set you and Carter up to go meet Ronald Montgomery. I found out that their little society is meeting tonight. And I have a way to get you in. You up for it?"
"Sure. I'll check--"
"Great! I'll meet you at your hotel at 6 tonight." He dropped the phone and the line went dead.
I walked back over to the table where Carter and Andy were sitting.
"Runson," I said as I sat down.
"What'd he want?" asked Carter.
"He wants us to meet Ronald Montgomery tonight. The 'society' is getting together and he has an in for us."
Andy asked, "This have to do with the Bushman thing?"
I nodded.
Carter looked at his watch. "It's a quarter til. Let's go to the bar."
I stood up and looked around for our waiter so I could sign the check. "You guys go on and get set up. I'll be there in a minute."
They stood and walked away together. As I watched them, I felt a tiny bit of jealousy for the first time in my relationship with Carter. I brushed it away.
. . .
Carter and I were sitting at the bar. I had a Coke in front of me. Carter was sipping an iced coffee, which sounded awful to me but he seemed to like it.
"Uh, Mr. Williams?" asked a thick Boston voice.
I stood up and turned around. "Mr. Kennedy?"
"Yes."
We shook.
"This is Carter Jones."
Kennedy looked up and got a glint in his eyes, which I found curious. They shook.
The man was slight. He was carrying a brown leather satchel and stood at about 5'9". His head seemed slightly too large for his body. He had wavy light brown hair and pale blue eyes set in a boyish but serious face.
The man looked around and asked, "How about one of those tables?" There was a group of tables back in the far corner of the bar. A single man who had his back to us was sitting at one of them. He was reading the Washington Post and seemed to be engrossed in some story. That was Andy, of course.
We followed Kennedy to a table that he chose. It was the most isolated one. We'd figured he would want to be in the back. Andy and Carter had already figured out how Andy could be positioned and be able to hear most of our conversation from this table. That's why Andy was holding the paper like he was doing and sitting in the chair he was sitting in.
Kennedy opened his satchel. He took out a pen and a pad of paper that was full of notes. As he opened the cap to his pen, he looked at me and said, "You understand this is an informal interview. I'm doing this to see if there is any basis for an actual hearing."
"Isn't the timing strange?"
"How so?"
"I got the subpoena on Saturday for a hearing yesterday. Shouldn't you have interviewed me before the subpoena was sent out?"
"Ah, yes. Well, you see, some in the office jumped the gun. That's why I'm following up. There's no need to waste the senator's time on fruitless formal testimony."
I tried not to say anything really angry in reply although I was hot. "I see."
"Yes. So, I know the story of your inheritance. I read the trial transcripts from the lower courts in California and from the final hearing before the California State Supreme Court. One question I have, though."
"Yes?"
"What did you do to provoke your family into suing you?"
I was stunned. So stunned, in
fact, that I had to think for a moment about how to answer this question. I looked at Carter whose eyes were blazing.
"Well, Mr. Kennedy, the simple answer is that I made the mistake of being what we all thought at the time was the sole heir to my Great-Uncle Paul's estate. As you know, if you read the rulings, none of the lower court judges wanted to rule in my favor. But the law said otherwise. They agreed with my father and his worthless siblings that it was reckless to give a faggot so much money."
My use of that word seemed to shock Kennedy.
"Ah, yes. Well, that's as may be. Was there no family history that wasn't discussed in the trial?"
"None that I can remember. The whole damn thing was brought out in depositions."
"So, you did nothing like, say, act in depraved ways?"
"What do you mean by 'depraved'?"
Kennedy pulled at his shirt collar. He was obviously nervous. But he had pluck, so he forged ahead.
"Well, for example." He turned to a page in a notebook that was heavily annotated. "You had an illicit relationship with a former San Francisco policeman by the name of Michael Robertson."
"Yes."
"So you admit it was illicit."
"What do you mean by 'illicit'?"
"Outside of societal norms. Involving criminal behavior."
"I see."
"So you admit that it was illicit."
"No. I'll admit that I was and still am in love with Mike. He's my best friend. He taught me to stick up for myself. He helped me recover from my lousy childhood and made it possible for me to become a productive member of society."
"Productive? How?"
"I enlisted in the Navy on the Tuesday after Pearl Harbor. I wouldn't have had the guts if I hadn't known Mike."
"Right. The Navy. That's where you met Commander Roger Hamilton, correct?"
"I served under Commander Hamilton."
"But you had improper relations with him, correct?"
I took a deep breath and glared at Kennedy. "Incorrect. He helped me in one specific way. He referred me to a lawyer in San Francisco after I received a radiogram about my inheritance. I had no idea what to do and he seemed like a smart guy. I know I wasn't supposed to be fraternizing with an officer, but it was really just two conversations and that was it."
"I see. So, you and Commander Hamilton didn't have any other kind of interactions?"
"If you mean, did I let him fuck me? The answer is no."
The Sartorial Senator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 3) Page 13
