The Pitiful Player (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 14)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Did he flirt with you?"

  "No. But I think he was a little bit in awe of the fact that he wasn't the biggest guy in the room."

  "Do you like that?"

  "Like what?" asked Carter.

  "Being the biggest guy in the room?"

  "Always." He pulled me in tight. "Someone has to be around to keep you safe."

  I hugged him and scooted up closer to him. "Carter."

  "What?"

  "Let's forget all about me getting you back."

  "I was looking forward to you trying to be sneaky."

  "No. Your mother is sneaky. Mike is sneaky. But I don't wanna do that with you."

  Carter didn't say anything. After a moment, I could tell that his breathing was becoming heavy. I sat up and looked down at his face. His eyes were glistening in the dim light. I leaned down and kissed them both, licking up the tears as I did.

  Chapter 21

  717 North Cañon Drive

  Wednesday, July 13, 1955

  Just past 8 in the morning

  I woke up from a deep sleep and to the smell of bacon frying and the sounds of people talking low in the kitchen. My head was still on Carter's chest and I was a little sore which meant I hadn't moved much in the night. Carter was snoring slightly, like he always did. I wondered who the hell had broken into our house to cook breakfast. Considering who was in town, the list of suspects was pretty long.

  In a low voice, I said, "Wake up."

  Carter started and said, "What?"

  "Someone's broken into the house and they're cooking breakfast."

  Carter pushed me off him and jumped out of bed. "Oh, shit! I totally forgot."

  I sat up and watched him trying to dress himself in a hurry. "What?"

  "Mama said she and Ed were coming by this morning. I told her that they could let themselves in by the back door but that we'd probably already be up."

  I jumped up and started getting dressed myself.

  . . .

  When we both walked into the kitchen, I was surprised by who was there. Mrs. Jones and Howie were frying bacon. Ed and Officer Ruggles, the Santa Monica cop we'd met down at the beach, were sitting at the table chatting with my father. Lettie was nowhere to be seen.

  Ed looked up with a grin. "Morning, sleepy-heads."

  I looked around the room. "Good morning, everyone."

  Mrs. Jones walked over to me and kissed me on the cheek. She rubbed my face. "You need a shave, young man."

  I nodded and said, "Someone forgot to tell me we were having company, otherwise we would both have showered and shaved."

  She kissed Carter on the cheek and said, "That must be you."

  Carter nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  Ed said, "We ran into Parnell and Lettie in the hotel lobby on our way to get a cab and brought 'em along."

  Howie then piped up. "I saw these suspicious characters trying to break into your house."

  Ruggles added, "And I came along to try to arrest someone but then got bribed with coffee." He was still in his uniform. He lifted his cup in salute to Howie and added, "And it's damn good Joe, too."

  Everyone laughed at that.

  . . .

  Lettie, who'd decided to go to the store on her own, walked in the back door with a bag full of groceries about ten minutes later. She looked at Ruggles and said, "Young man, will you and Carter take care of the rest of the bags in the car?"

  Ruggles stood, grinned, and said, "Yes, ma'am." He nodded at Carter who followed him out the back door.

  Mrs. Jones asked, "Was it as big as you thought?"

  Lettie nodded. "It was. I wish I'd taken you up on your offer to go with me. I spent almost fifty dollars. Can you believe it?"

  My father looked up in disbelief. "Fifty dollars, Lettie? What did you buy? Golden eggs?"

  "Well, the boys need provisions. They can't eat at the Brown Derby for every meal and Nicholas does like to cook."

  Right then, Ruggles and Carter walked in the back door, both carrying two huge bags each.

  "Is there more?" I asked.

  Carter nodded. "Two more bags. I'll go get them. You're gonna have to figure out where to put all of this."

  . . .

  Once things were unpacked, Mrs. Jones and Howie went to work scrambling eggs, frying more bacon, cooking some ham steaks, slicing tomatoes, and making toast.

  As we sat and drank coffee, Carter asked, "So, Lettie, did you figure out how to drive that Mercedes?"

  She smiled. "Once I realized it was an automatic transmission, the rest was perfectly easy. It was quite a thrill, I will admit. I feel a little naughty driving a German car, of course."

  Ed said, "I'm still not sure what to think about all that."

  My father, who was pulling on his pipe, said, "I think that, as the victors, we can rest assured that whoever is working in those factories has been cleared to do so."

  Ed started to say something in reply, but before he could, Carter asked, "Mama, you know I can't sit down to breakfast with you without some of your red plum jam."

  Mrs. Jones smiled and walked over to her purse. As if by magic, she pulled out a jar and handed it to Carter.

  "Where did that come from?" I asked.

  Ed laughed. "She carries a jar of it wherever she goes. It's one of her many secrets."

  Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at Ed and said, "Which you have now given away, thank you very much, Edmond Richardson."

  We all laughed at that.

  . . .

  Once breakfast was done, Howie said, "Tom and I are gonna clean up and then we'll leave all you people in peace."

  Carter asked, "Tom?"

  Ruggles stood and began to gather plates. "That's me. Guess we never were properly introduced."

  Lettie stood and took the plates out of his hands. "Actually, Officer Tom, Louise and I will do the washing up. I'm guessing you didn't just drop by to meet all of us. Why don't you and Nicholas go out back so you can tell him whatever news you have for him?" She pointed her chin to the back door and said, "Go on."

  He grinned and said, "Yes, ma'am." Picking up his hat from the counter, he put it on. "Come on, Howie. You too." Tipping his hat to the room, he said, "It was a real pleasure to meet all you fine folks." I thought his voice broke a little at the end of that sentence.

  I stood and motioned to Carter who did the same. The four of us filed out through the back door. Once we were outside, Howie said, "Thanks for breakfast, guys. I really should be getting to campus. I have a computer program that I'm running. I need to go check it."

  I smiled. "Thanks, Howie, for taking care of things this morning."

  He grinned in reply. "Gee, Mr. Williams. I'm happy to."

  I shook my head as he ran up the stairs to his apartment and was gone.

  Turning back to Officer Ruggles, I asked, "So, what's on your mind, Officer?"

  "Tom."

  I nodded. "I'm Nick and this is Carter."

  He took a deep breath and said, "I've been poking around a little bit more and found a couple of things you might wanna know about."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "I have a buddy who works with the District Attorney. He's not a lawyer, but, well... I can't really talk about who he is."

  I nodded and waited.

  "Anyway, he told me that he's had a look at some of the D.A.'s notes about the case against Carlo Martinelli. No surprise, but they don't have a case. They don't know who stabbed William Fraser." He lowered his voice and looked around. "The Beverly Hills police just picked up Martinelli on the assumption it was a lover's quarrel between Ben White, Martinelli, and William Fraser that got out of hand. They got a judge to agree. When the sheriff's deputies picked up Martinelli, they were just executing the warrant and they didn't question him." Ruggles eyes popped as he said, "As far as my friend can tell, no one has ever questioned Martinelli. He's just sitting in the clink waiting for the trial to start on Monday. And his lawyer hasn't been to see him, either. At least not as of
this morning when I talked to my buddy."

  I nodded and tried to take in that information and what it meant.

  Tom added, "I followed your trial up in Sausalito last summer. Seems to me they have a similar idea. He's guilty because he's a queer and nothing he says would matter."

  I nodded again. It sure sounded that way but I had another idea. "Does your buddy have access to Martinelli?"

  Tom pursed his lips together. After a moment, he said, "Maybe."

  "Fine. If he can, can you ask him to tell Martinelli to ask for his lawyer? Not try to convince him, just tell him to do so. What I'm more interested in is Martinelli's reply. I think there's something else going on."

  Tom frowned but nodded. "You think that his lawyer is being kept away?"

  "Might be."

  I watched as Tom seemed to be dealing with some powerful emotion. His cornflower blue eyes were bloodshot and red. He just stood there for a moment, biting the inside of his lower lip. "You OK?" I asked.

  He shook his head. A tear rolled down his cheek.

  Carter took him by the neck and walked him towards the back of the yard. There was a small white table under a large tree. Four wrought-iron chairs, all painted white, were arranged around the table. We all had a seat. I noticed that Carter put Tom in the chair facing the wall which surrounded the yard and away from the house.

  Once we were seated, I put my hand on Tom's thigh. It was just like Carter's. But its hardness surprised me even though I could see that Tom was a bodybuilder. I then realized it was the act of touching a cop in uniform I was reacting to. I had always made it a rule to never, ever touch a cop. I'd heard too many stories from my clients in the past.

  Tom, however, didn't seem to care. In fact, he put his calloused hand over mine and squeezed it. He looked at me and said, "Thanks, you two. I'm a big mess and I don't like it when the straights see me like this."

  I laughed. "Those folks in the house are just about the kindest you'll ever meet."

  Carter snorted. "Well, two of them are."

  Tom looked confused. "What do you mean?"

  Carter said, "Nick's father, the one with the pipe, and my mother, the one who was cooking with Howie. They're really two peas in a pod. They've been almost insufferable in the past. Ed and Lettie, however, really have brought out the best in them. It's a long story but, as shocking as it was to see you and Howie in the kitchen this morning, it was even more surreal to see our parents there."

  I nodded. "Yeah. It was."

  Tom's eyes were leaking tears. He wasn't sobbing. His eyes were just running. "I can't remember the last time I had a breakfast like that. With all the family around. And everyone happy." He looked at Carter. "And you changing the subject before Mr. Richardson and Mr. Williams could get into an argument." He sighed deeply, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and then folded his big arms. "I miss that."

  Carter asked, "What happened?"

  Tom sighed. "I'm a native. I was born in Long Beach. My pop worked at the docks. My mom raised me and my sister until we started school and then she started teaching again, like she'd done before I was born." He sighed. "My pop's family is all over the Southland. My nan is still alive and I have aunts and uncles from Newport Beach to Ventura. And loads of cousins." He sniffed, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped his eyes again. "But none of 'em will talk to me anymore. It's not like you two, getting your picture taken and all that, but it was close. I got caught with my guy making out up on Mulholland. Problem is that it was a cousin of mine who caught us. He's a sheriff's deputy. He didn't arrest us. But he told his mother, my aunt. Then she told my nan. And then my dad. Pretty soon, my sergeant got wind of it. That's how come I work at the beach on night patrol all alone. No one will work with me."

  I nodded. "When are you gonna quit?"

  He sniffed again and smiled at me. "You have any openings?"

  I looked over at Carter, who nodded. "We sure do."

  Tom sighed and then laughed. "Jesus Christ, you must think I told you that whole sob story just to get a job."

  I shook my head. "Nope. I figured it was something like that. Why else would they have put you on patrol alone?"

  Tom nodded. Looking over at Carter, he said, "He's smart."

  Carter laughed and crossed his arms. "Smart enough." He watched Tom for a moment. "You and your guy still going together?"

  Tom shook his head. "Nah. He got spooked. I don't blame him."

  Carter looked at me and then back at Tom. "Are you one of those muscle heads who'll only date a skinny kid? Like me?"

  Tom guffawed and glanced at me quickly. "Uh, no. In fact, I'm kinda the opposite." He blushed under his ruddy complexion.

  Carter smiled and said, "Nick, this is where you come in."

  Tom frowned and looked from Carter to me. "What is this?"

  I sighed. "This is my husband's pretty bad attempt at matchmaking." I shook my head. "He picked up the ball but didn't carry it all the way to the end zone."

  Carter snorted. "Since when do you ever talk about football?"

  I rolled my eyes at him and turned to Tom. "There are two guys in our L.A. office. Carlo Martinelli is one of them. You know all about him. Micky Bailey is the other." I stopped and waited. I had a feeling, somehow, that Tom knew Micky already.

  He looked at Carter and then at me and back at Carter. It was getting to be like a comedy routine. "And you wanna set me up with Micky Bailey?"

  Carter nodded slowly. I could see what was coming and had a sudden urge to back away.

  Tom laughed. And it wasn't a giggle or a snort. It was a bark followed by a series of mild roars. He slapped his thigh and laughed again.

  "What?" asked Carter, looking nervous.

  "That pig!?" Tom laughed again. He then reached across the table and patted Carter on the cheek. "Boy and howdy. You've gotta be kidding me." He held Carter's face for a moment and then shook it. "If you weren't so big, I'd be kicking your ass right now and then I'd haul you in for assault."

  Tom stood and stretched as a wave of emotions passed over Carter's face. As soon as he began to rub his chin, I quickly said, "Tom, it was my idea."

  The cop patted me on the head and said, "I know, I know." Looking at Carter, he said, "And don't get your panties in a wad, buddy. I'm planning on coming to work for you." He looked down at me and adjusted his belt. "I like Micky just fine. And we did go together for a while. The kid needs to learn how to wash himself, that's all." Rubbing my head affectionately, Tom sighed. "I do feel better. Thanks you two. I'd better get home—" He stopped and got serious. He took off his hat, as if he was offering penance. The switch from cock-of-the-walk to penitent was abrupt. "Are you serious about that job offer?"

  I shrugged and stood. "You'll have to ask my husband. I'm not the one you threatened."

  Tom's eyes widened as he said, "Me and my big mouth. I'm real sorry, Carter. Um, Mr. Jones. I hope you won't hold it against me."

  Carter stood, offered his hand, and said, "Not at all, Tom. Welcome aboard. My banker here is gonna go inside and cut you a check for a thousand bucks as a signing bonus so you can drive back to Santa Monica and quit."

  I nodded. "And then be back here at 8 tonight. We have some real work to do and you can help."

  Tom looked doubtful. "I don't have a P.I. license."

  I nodded. "That's fine. You'll be operating under my instruction. And you'll let me know if something I ask you to do moves out of line. Meanwhile, you two make up. No kissing though." I turned and made my way back to the house. As I did, I could hear them start talking about local gymnasiums.

  I walked into the house and found everyone sitting at the table expectantly. Ed said, "We called the airport and asked your guys to hold the plane for us."

  "Sorry about that. We had a couple of things to work out."

  Mrs. Jones looked at me and said, "He must have had it rough with his family."

  Lettie said, "Of course he did, Louise. You saw how he almost started to cry when we introduc
ed ourselves. Boys like him just need to be around a friendly family every now and then. I assume you just hired him, Nicholas."

  I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  My father added, "And we're keeping you from your checkbook."

  I smiled. "Yes, sir."

  Using his fake Georgia accent, Ed said, "Well, go on. Git!"

  Everyone at the table laughed at that as I made my way back into the bedroom.

  . . .

  Roz and Freddie came to the rescue and drove Ed and Mrs. Jones to Burbank in convoy with us. Six people and their luggage wouldn't fit in the Mercedes. In our car, my father rode up front with Carter while Lettie and I sat in the back. Before we left, Freddie gave Carter instructions on how to get to the airport using Coldwater Canyon Road, but Carter followed him closely, just in case.

  Once we arrived and were parked on the tarmac by the plane, we all made our way up the stairs, with Carter and me carrying the luggage, and into the ship. The one that had brought everyone down and was taking them home was the DC-7. It was a huge bird and nicely appointed. Carter and I had flown in it a couple of times, although we preferred the Super Constellation, which was the first one I'd bought back in '53.

  After Freddie and Roz got the tour, we handed out hugs and kisses and handshakes and said our goodbyes.

  As she held my hand, Mrs. Jones asked, "Are you sure you're fine with hosting the wedding in October?"

  I nodded. "You know I won't be doing anything. Lettie and Marnie will be running the whole show with Mrs. Kopek and Mrs. Strakova."

  Mrs. Jones smiled. "Yes. We're in good hands, there. I have one other favor to ask of you, Nick."

  "Anything."

  "Please, call me Louise."

  I could feel the tears trying to get out. I just nodded and said, "I will." I paused trying to make sure I could get it out. "Louise."

  She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. As she did, she whispered, "And thank you for bringing Ed into my life. He's..." She sighed and stepped back, putting her gloved hand on her cheek. "He's..." She started blushing.

  I wondered what inappropriate thing she was trying very hard not to say. I tried to block certain images from my mind. But, I could almost feel the happiness that was in her expression. Finally, I said, "He's swell."