The Pitiful Player (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 14)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I pulled out my battered Zippo and offered it to Tom. He held my hands and winked at me as he lit up.

  While he exhaled, Carter said, "That lighter was kissed by Errol Flynn this morning."

  Tom looked over at Carter with a surprised expression. "That so?"

  He told the whole story. Once he was done, Anita sighed. "That's so sad. He was on my 'I might' list." She slowly stirred her coffee.

  Tom laughed. "That wouldn't, by chance, be the list of men you would be willing to..." He grinned as he let the implication hang in the air.

  She looked up and nodded. "There are very few. He was one of them."

  "Who else?" asked Tom. He seemed to be fascinated with the idea.

  She sighed. "Leslie Howard. Ronald Colman."

  "That's it?"

  She nodded. After a moment, she added, "Well, Valentino. That's more for my mother than me. And, of course, Juan Zane."

  Tom smirked. "Seems like most of your guys are either dead or almost dead."

  Anita, who wasn't taking the bait, just shrugged and said, "It would never happen, anyway."

  Tom nodded philosophically, looked out at the dining room, and took another drag on his cigarette. "Yeah. Movie stars are hard to pin down."

  "You have any experience in that area?" asked Carter with a grin.

  Nodding, Tom exhaled and said, "But I don't almost kiss and tell."

  Carter snapped his fingers. "Darn it. I was hoping for some good news after having my hopes dashed about Errol Flynn this morning."

  Tom grinned. "That so?" Pointing his cigarette at me, he said, "I thought maybe it was pipsqueak here who had the crush."

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

  Carter said, "No. He likes Alan Hale, Jr."

  Tom nodded and said, "Of course. Big, brawny, blond. I can see why." He took a drag and then exhaled. "Too bad he doesn't come 'round the gym any more. He's gonna go to flab, I'm afraid."

  Anita looked at Tom. "You're kinda awful, aren't you?" She was grinning but her tone had some bite to it.

  He shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette. "I suppose I can be."

  I spoke up and said, "He's gotta heart of gold. Otherwise he wouldn't be here."

  Tom looked over at me. "What does that mean?"

  I shrugged. "Take it however you like."

  Anita sighed. "Are we ever going to get to work?" Having realized what she'd just said and to whom, Anita put her hand over her mouth and then said, "Gosh, Mr. Williams. Sorry about that." I was beginning to like her. It was becoming obvious that her schoolgirl demeanor was probably more of an act than anything else.

  I laughed. "Yes, Anita. Right now." I cleared my throat and said, "Let's start at the beginning. William Fraser was found murdered at 630 North Linden, the home of Bernard William Rogers, also known as Juan Zane, and called Bernie by his friends."

  Anita said, "Juan Zane! That wasn't in the papers. It just said that he was found outside of a house in Beverly Hills."

  I nodded. "That's right. And, it looks like you've done your research."

  "Walter and I put together a dossier of clippings from the library."

  Carter asked, "The main library?"

  Anita frowned slightly. "I guess it's the main one. It's the one on the eighth floor."

  I laughed. "We have a library on the eighth floor?"

  She nodded. "Sure. Walter told me that he and Mrs. Vasco, Maria, that they put it together."

  Carter looked at me. "I thought that was a tenant floor."

  I shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'm just a co-owner of the building."

  Anita leaned in. "Really? Who is the other owner?"

  I jerked my thumb at Carter. "This guy."

  She blushed slightly and then nodded. "Oh my. Of course."

  Tom said, "I hate to interrupt this very important landlord conversation, but can we move this story along?"

  I replied, "Sure." I thought for a moment. "So William was found on the grounds."

  "In the backyard," added Tom.

  Carter sat up. "In the backyard?"

  Tom nodded.

  Carter looked at me. I nodded and said, "That place is a fortress. There's no way that anyone could get in except through the front door unless there's a back gate."

  Tom took out a small pad of paper and a pencil. Licking the end of the pencil with his broad tongue, he started writing. "First thing we do is stalk the house and look for a back gate."

  I grinned at him and nodded. "Yeah."

  Anita asked, "Why do you think he was stabbed there?"

  I took in a deep breath and shook my head. "We met Juan Zane, Bernie, that is, earlier today. He may have been playing around with William and got tired of him but I don't think that's what happened."

  "Why not?" asked Carter.

  "Because that silent butler and good ole what's-his-name—"

  "John Taylor," said Carter.

  I nodded. "Him. The personal assistant or boyfriend or both. The two of them seem to have Bernie all wrapped up in that house. I doubt that anyone gets in or gets out without their knowing it."

  "If that's the case, then why didn't Bernie refuse to invite us over? He has to know who you are. Everyone else in town does."

  I looked at Carter in confusion. "What do you mean?"

  "But Bernie knew who you were. Why would he go to the trouble of seducing you—"

  "Whoa!" That was Tom.

  I turned and asked, "What?"

  "He seduced you?"

  I nodded. "And right in front of Carter."

  Tom looked at Carter. "And you let him?"

  "We were there on a case. We had to see how far he would go."

  I smiled at Carter. "I'm so proud of you."

  Carter winked at me while Tom huffed. "You two are..." He seemed to be searching for the right word.

  Anita offered, "Too cute to be true?"

  Tom nodded. "Yeah. I was going to say sickening but that'll work."

  I cleared my throat. "If you two are finished comparing notes, can we get back to the case at hand?"

  Tom looked at me with a wink. "Go ahead, Boss."

  "Thank you," I said dryly. "OK. So, we've got a nearly-impenetrable fortress where the body was found." I sighed. "William's body, that is." I looked at Carter. "Do we know what time the police found him?"

  He shook his head. "Sometime on Sunday."

  I nodded. "OK. What we do know is that Martinelli was with Ben from the time they found William at the beach until Martinelli was arrested."

  Tom said, "Yeah. About that."

  "What?" I asked.

  "I talked to my buddy and he said that he asked Carlo about asking for his lawyer. Carlo told him he had asked for his lawyer. And that he was being told there were complications."

  I nodded. "Add to your list, and put it at the top, that we go from here to track down Mr. John J. Gilbraith and find out what the hell is going on with that."

  Tom made a note on his pad and said, "Got it."

  Carter asked, "And you saw Ben and Carlo pick up William at the beach, right?"

  Tom nodded. "Sure. William was with a couple of other guys, if I remember rightly. The first time I'd seen William was around half past 2 that morning. He was stretched out on the sand, looking up at the stars. It was a clear night. I said hello to him and continued making my rounds—"

  "You just left him on the beach in the dark?" That was Anita and her voice sounded incredulous.

  Tom nodded. "I was one guy doing the job of about four. I knew William. I knew he was coming down off something. And, if he did what he always did, he would be gone by sunrise and definitely by the time the morning shift showed up."

  I looked at Anita. "Tom was being frozen out of his job. He really was doing the best he could."

  She nodded and looked contrite. "Sorry for that, Tom."

  He grinned. "Not a problem. Now, where was I?" He thought for a moment and then he said, "So, the next time I saw William, he was making out with a c
ouple of guys. They had moved under the pier. I think he saw me but the other guys didn't, otherwise they would have bolted."

  Carter asked, "And you just let them do that?"

  Tom's grin faded. "As I explained," he said testily, "it was just me down there. If I ever arrested anyone, I would be in trouble for leaving my post. If I didn't arrest anyone, then I would be called on the carpet for not doing my job. I don't know how else to explain things."

  Carter nodded. "Sorry about that, Tom."

  Tom huffed and said, "No, I get it. It's OK." He took out a cigarette. I lit it for him again. His hands were shaking that time and he didn't smile at me.

  I turned to Anita and asked, "What's your plan for tomorrow?"

  She was watching Tom with a worried expression as I said that. She looked at me for a long moment and then replied, "I'm going to Enterprise and apply for a job. Walter and I set up a job history that can be verified. Most of it's accurate. According to what Walter heard, they'll probably hire me on the spot. Apparently, it's the busiest answering service in Hollywood."

  I nodded and glanced over at Tom, who was smoking meditatively. I asked him, "So, after you found William and his two friends, what did you see next?"

  He exhaled above the table. "When I was coming back towards the pier on my next round, I saw Ben and Carlo carrying William across the beach and towards their car."

  "Was he walking?" I asked.

  Tom shook his head. "Nope. They were doing a kind of fireman carry. He seemed to be pretty out of it."

  "Were they moving him from under the pier?" That was Carter.

  Tom thought for a moment. "Yeah. I think they were."

  "Where were the other guys?" asked Carter.

  Tom looked up at the ceiling and held his cigarette with his right hand. "Now that I think about it, they were gone. Or, at least, I couldn't see anyone in the spot where they'd been."

  "Isn't it hard to see under the pier at night?"

  Tom shrugged. "Not really. You get used to the dark."

  I asked, "Was William involved in what they were doing?"

  "Involved?" asked Tom.

  "What I'm wondering is, if he had to be carried off by Ben and Martinelli—"

  "Why do you use his last name? Mr. Martinelli's, that is. " asked Anita.

  I grinned. "It's a long story but I'm always afraid I'm going to call him Chuck."

  Everyone at the table laughed.

  Tom exhaled again and said, "I see what you mean. If he wasn't able to walk across the beach, then how could he participate in all the fun?"

  I nodded. "Yeah."

  Tom nodded slightly and then said, "I didn't look too close, since I didn't want to know too much, but it seems like to me that the other guys were, um..." He looked at Anita.

  She waved him away. "Don't worry about me. I don't scare easily."

  Tom shrugged. "Well, it seems to me that the two guys were servicing him."

  Carter asked, "Do you think he could have paid them?"

  Tom nodded. "He could have. That kind of action is available down there. Particularly with the Muscle Beach House right down the street."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "It's kind of a cross between a boarding house and a flop. There's an old lady who runs the place and any muscle head can crash there for almost nothing. Some of those guys can make a buck or two if they need the money, you know, for private work."

  "Modeling?" I asked.

  "Sure. And more." He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "But usually the roles would be reversed. The john would be servicing the muscle head, not the other way around."

  I nodded. "And, unless something had changed, William wasn't into physical culture."

  Tom shook his head. "No, he wasn't. It was something we talked about." He quickly glanced at Anita. "I don't mind saying that he came on to me a couple of times. He was too out of it for me to take him seriously but that didn't matter. I asked if he wanted to try going to a gym with me and he said he didn't. So that was that."

  Anita looked around the table at us. "Is it possible that those two guys were robbing him?"

  Tom smiled and shook his head. "No. That much was obvious." He laughed. "Unless they were a special kind of robbers that were—"

  Before he could get too raunchy, I said, "OK. So we know what Ben and Carlo were doing and about when. What we don't know is when William was murdered. We don't know whether he was killed at Juan Zane's house or not. We also don't know why." I sighed. "So we got a lot of nothin', it seems."

  Anita piped up. "No. You have whatever investigation the police have conducted, right?"

  Tom, Carter, and I all shook our heads together. I said, "No. They haven't done any investigation. At least none that we know of. They haven't interrogated Martinelli at all, from what Tom's friend has said."

  "Friend?" asked Anita.

  "Yeah," said Tom. "I have a buddy who, uh, has access to Carlo."

  Anita looked at him shrewdly for a moment. "I see." That was all she said but it carried a lot of weight.

  I laughed. "Well, if you see, Anita, can you share it with the rest of us?"

  She smiled demurely. "I just suppose that Tom has a boyfriend in lockup. That's all."

  Tom turned red but didn't say anything. He took out another Pall Mall. Before I could get to my lighter, he had his out and lit up in a flash. Snapping the lid closed, he took a big drag, exhaled, and then said, "No, it's not like that at all. I just can't talk about it."

  Carter said, "OK. Seems to me like we need to go talk to Gilbraith first and find out what he's doing."

  I nodded. "Yeah. One step at a time." Looking around the table, I asked, "We done here?"

  Anita asked, "This is probably a silly question, but if the police aren't investigating, then how will the D.A. be able to get a conviction in court?"

  I smiled ruefully. "That's the sixty-four dollar question, right there. My guess is that they're sitting on Martinelli, hoping he'll cop to a plea." I looked over at Tom and asked, "You still think they're assuming it was a lover's quarrel gone bad?"

  He nodded. "I do. But, you need to talk to that lawyer of his. I'm getting antsy about this case, all of a sudden."

  I nodded. "You and me, both." I looked around the table. "Anything else?"

  "Nope," replied Tom, standing with his cigarette in his mouth.

  Anita shook her head and stood, as well.

  "Good," I said as I stood. Carter followed suit and that was that.

  Chapter 25

  1950 Vestal Ave.

  Los Angeles, Cal.

  Wednesday, July 13, 1955

  Just before 10 in the evening

  As we pulled into the long driveway of the house where John J. Gilbraith lived, I noticed that there was a light on in the front window. There was a mint green '53 Pontiac Star Chief parked at the end of the driveway by the house's back door.

  From the backseat, Tom said, "Hey, I recognize this house. I knew a guy who used to live here. I never knew what kinda work he did but I think he was a cop, but more like a detective and not on the beat."

  I was worrying too much about the conversation I'd had with Ben a few minutes earlier to listen. I'd called him from a payphone inside the cafeteria before we left. I wanted to get Gilbraith's phone number. I'd caught Ben at home. He sounded exhausted. He'd said that shooting had gone well and that the bones of the story that he and Jessup had been working on was coming together. It all sounded way too fast, but what did I know?

  When I'd asked for Gilbraith's number, Ben had lost it. He'd been calling the lawyer all day long and was only getting the service who didn't know where Gilbraith was. Ben decided somehow it was all my fault and that we'd been wasting time going to charity balls instead of investigating the case while Martinelli was sitting alone in jail. I couldn't blame the kid for being upset so I let him rant and rail over the phone for a few minutes. He'd worked himself into such a frenzy that he'd finally slammed the phone down. I couldn't bl
ame him for that, either.

  Carter asked, "How do you want to do this?"

  I looked at him and said, "All three of us go in." Anita had gone back to her hotel although I had a feeling she wanted to go with us. "I want him to know we mean business."

  Tom asked, "You sure about that?"

  I nodded. "Very."

  We all piled out of the car and made our way to the front porch. I knocked on the screen door and waited.

  Tom walked over to the left window and peered inside. He sighed and shook his head.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Ain't nobody gonna answer that door."

  "Why?" I knew the answer, mostly from the knot that was forming in my stomach.

  "'Cause there's a very tall, very dead lawyer sprawled out on the floor."

  . . .

  "Hello?" Kenneth Dixon, our lawyer back home, answered the phone. I was glad. I was afraid Benjamin, his lover, might have. I liked Benjamin but I knew he wasn't going to like what I had to say.

  "It's Nick."

  "What's up?"

  "Gilbraith is dead."

  "What?" There was real distress in his voice.

  "Yeah. We just went by his house and found him dead in the living room."

  "Why were you there?"

  "Because he'd disappeared."

  "Do you know how he died?"

  "Nope. I just got off the phone with the L.A.P.D. I'm calling you from a payphone down the road from his house. And we need to get back over there. The homicide detective wants us to meet him there."

  "Good. Let me know what you find out."

  "Will do."

  "How's Carlo Martinelli doing?"

  "He's sitting in lockup and hasn't talked to Gilbraith since he was arraigned."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. You got another lawyer down here that you can call?"

  Kenneth sighed. "I might. But..."

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what?"

  "Yes, please dear Kenneth Wilcox will you please get on a plane and come down here and do that thing you do?"

  Kenneth laughed in spite of the situation. "I will."

  "What about Benjamin? Together, you two are unstoppable."

  "Nick, why are you talking like that?"

  "Like what?"

  "Like you're trying to get me in bed."