The Savage Son (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 6)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I laughed and asked, "Why aren't you out there?"

  Jerry shrugged. "Too many people during the Christmas break. I like to come out in the morning and greet the sun."

  "How do you keep that tan?"

  "Well, that's easy. I come out at the hottest time of the day and roast on one side for precisely fifteen minutes and then flip, like a steak, for another fifteen minutes. I even bring a timer with me, so I don't overcook. I've perfected this technique over the years and can keep my brown-berry tan without ever burning. The sun is much hotter down here and you have to be careful."

  He looked out at the water. "In fact, you really should go grab Carter. He's going to be red as a lobster if he doesn't come out of the sun."

  Carter's skin tended to turn ruddy instead of burn, but Jerry was right. The sun was bright and hot and reminded me of my time in New Guinea during the war.

  Trotting back down to the water, I called out, "Hey Chief! Time to get in the shade."

  Carter looked up at me and, in that moment, I could feel an affection that just never seemed to have an end. I smiled and felt happy.

  . . .

  Jerry had been right. The party started at the beach around noon on Wednesday and didn't stop until Friday morning. Carter and I were in the penthouse of the building next door to Jerry's apartment. The largest bedroom faced the beach and included a balcony overlooking the bay.

  We wandered in from the party around 3 in the morning on the first day of January. We walked onto the balcony that opened up from the bedroom and looked out. There were still cars moving along the avenue that ran along the beach. Sailboats and yachts were anchored in the bay, and their lights dotted the dark water. The party was winding down, but the sound of the informal bands that wandered the beach mixed with the horns from the passing cars and floated up to the fifteenth floor.

  Carter had his arm around my shoulder and we watched together. It was beautiful. And noisy. And I was tired. But the night wasn't over.

  Guiding me back into the bedroom, Carter pulled the long white drapes across the glass balcony doors which were open for the breeze.

  I stripped off the few clothes I was wearing and left them in a pile by the bed. I pulled back the thin sheet and blanket and lay down on the side closest to the window. Carter slipped in behind me and reached his long arms around and pulled me in tight, wrapping his legs around mine.

  We spent what was left of the night just like this, whispering to each other about nothing much. While a pink light began to spread across the inky purple of the night sky, I turned around and said, "I love you."

  Carter gently kissed me on the lips and said, "I love you, too, Nick."

  As I began to drift off to sleep, I heard Carter say, "Happy New Year." I just nodded, thinking about my reply but unable to speak as the exhaustion of 1953 overtook me completely.

  . . .

  The last two days of our visit were mostly spent in bed, sleeping and doing other things. We would go out to meet Nick and Jerry for lunch or dinner, but mostly we stayed in and caught up on sleep and those other very important things. The summer was in full force and we kept all the windows open to capture the breeze.

  On Monday morning, we got up and began to pack. We were scheduled to leave around noon to fly to Lima, where we would spend the night. Tuesday would be a long flight to Mexico City followed by the final leg to San Francisco on Wednesday.

  Once we were ready, we joined Nick and Jerry for breakfast at an outdoor cafe in the next block. A huge awning provided shade from the hot sun. My breakfast consisted of a bowl of tart yogurt and a bowl of freshly sliced mango, something I had come to love, having never tasted the sweet orange fruit before.

  "How about next year?" asked Jerry.

  I looked at Carter who said, "I'm game. I love it here."

  I nodded. "Me, too." I took a bite of fruit with a fork and said, "I'm ready to get home and get back to work. But this was just the ticket."

  The other Nick smiled. "Maybe we'll come visit you in the summer so we can have a taste of winter."

  We all laughed at that.

  . . .

  As the plane lifted off into the sky above Mexico City, I sighed. This was a long trip and I was ready to get home. We'd spent the night in a nice hotel in the middle of Mexico City that, unfortunately, had paper-thin walls. Like the night before in Lima and the apartment in Rio, my intrepid travel agent, a man by the name of Ralph, had arranged it all for us.

  When we got to the plane just at sunrise, we discovered that there was one last little bit of business we needed to take care of. The number of bribes we'd paid just to get in and out of the plane in both Mexico and Brazil had been astonishing. No one bite, as it was called, had been big but there were so many of them. In Peru, however, it was a different story. We'd paid the landing and departure fees, in dollars of course, and that was all.

  Once we were at cruising altitude, Carter unbuckled his seat belt, stood up, and offered me his hand. I followed suit. As he guided me to the back of the plane, he said to our stewardess Christine, "Let us know when you're ready to serve lunch." She just smiled and nodded.

  Once we were in the bedroom, Carter closed and locked the door. As I stood there, he pulled off my coat and dropped it on the floor. Then he did the same thing to my tie. Before long, we were both in the bed in just our BVDs, with the big blue sky outside the windows on either side. This was the first time we'd taken advantage of the big wide bed. At first, we were both embarrassed. But, apparently, Carter had gotten past that and so, there we were.

  After about an hour, we were both exhausted. We lay there, my head on his chest, and dozed. When I woke up, Carter was running his hands through my hair.

  "I'm worried about Ike."

  I looked up. "Why?"

  "Do you really think he's done with running cons?"

  I thought about it. "I don't know. But, I liked your idea of getting him away from the company. That wasn't gonna work. And I don't think Mike would have gone for it, anyway."

  "We're going to have to keep an eye on him."

  I nodded. "I know. But, how?"

  Carter shrugged. "I don't know. We can drop in, from time to time, I guess."

  "You can drop in," I said. "What business do I have in a gymnasium?"

  "Other than ogling all the men?" He bit my ear gently after he said that.

  I snorted. "I don't ogle."

  "Yes, you do. When Sam came downstairs without his shirt on, you were like a cartoon character. Your eyes zoomed out."

  "It was all that hair. I'd never seen anything like it."

  "Right. It was the hair. When he lifted his arm up--"

  "Hey! You seem to have a lot of these details down pat there, Chief." I lifted up and looked at him. "Jealous?"

  Carter didn't immediately answer. I sat up and looked down at him. His face was pensive.

  "You are jealous!" I had never noticed it before.

  "Henry says the office is like a walking physique pictorial."

  I laughed. "Robert said that, too." I suddenly realized what he was saying. "Do you mean you think I'm deliberately stocking the office with weight lifters?"

  "No." I didn't believe him.

  "Didn't you say to me that it was OK to window shop?"

  Carter nodded. "I just wish you wouldn't go out window shopping so much."

  I smiled down at him. I reached over and ran my fingers through his hair. "I'll try to do better, Chief. But you gotta know you're the one I love."

  Carter smiled and said, "I know."

  . . .

  When the cab pulled up in front of the house on Wednesday afternoon, it was raining. After paying the driver, we carried our luggage up the stairs and walked in the house.

  We discovered that someone had thoughtfully removed the Christmas tree while we'd been gone. Someone had also cleaned the whole house. As we unpacked our luggage, we discovered that all the linens had been freshly laundered. Everything in the closets and bureaus had b
een removed, washed, folded, and neatly put away. Carter and I moved through all the bedrooms and opened ever drawer and every closet. Each one showed the results of someone's diligent housekeeping at work.

  We'd been home about an hour when the doorbell rang. I walked downstairs and opened the door. Ike, Sam, and Mrs. Kopek were standing on the porch. Their arms were full of pans and they bustled in without as much as a greeting.

  I said, "Hello?"

  Mrs. Kopek said, "Hello. We come to cook."

  Ike and Sam both laughed.

  . . .

  We sat down to dinner at the kitchen table. Mrs. Kopek sat in the dining room chair, in between Ike and Sam. Carter and I both enjoyed the food. It was real stick-to-your-ribs fare. The meal was perfect for a cold, rainy San Francisco day.

  "So, Ike, how's the new gymnasium coming?" I asked.

  "Great, Mr. Williams. Joe and I have found a place on Columbus that's perfect. Robert's taking care of getting it rented. We can move in on Saturday. Thanks, again, for setting this up. Joe's Number 2 is about to become the newest gymnasium in North Beach."

  I smiled and said, "That's great. But, you know, Carter is the one who arranged everything. And my name is Nick."

  Ike said, "Thanks, Mr. Jones."

  My husband said, "It's Carter."

  Ike nodded as he slurped some of his mother's beef soup.

  Carter asked, "How's the new job, Sam?"

  The older man replied, "It's good. That Andy is so smart. And Dawson. And Mike. I'm learning a lot about investigating. I never thought I'd ever want to hold down a job." He took a sip of his soup. "And I'm applying for a license in February." He turned and looked at Mrs. Kopek who smiled.

  We all sat there for a moment, eating and slurping. Mrs. Kopek sighed deeply. When she spoke, it was in Polish.

  Sam laughed while Ike looked confused. "My good bear? What does that mean, mom?"

  Mrs. Kopek said, "My name for Sam when we were young."

  Ike repeated the phrase in Polish. Both Sam and Mrs. Kopek shook their heads. Sam said, "No, sport. We'll find something else to use, don't you worry."

  We all laughed.

  . . .

  After Carter and I had washed up, we joined the others in the sitting room. We began telling them about the beach, all the interesting people we'd seen, and how warm it had been.

  Ike asked, "Do you think you'll go back next year?"

  I shrugged. "We might."

  In the silence that followed, I wondered about Mrs. Kopek. I watched her for a moment. She caught me doing so and smiled wanly. Catching the interaction between us, Ike said something to her in Polish. She nodded and sat up straight. "Yes. My son is right."

  "What?" asked Carter.

  She spread out her hands and looked around the house. "So, you no notice?"

  I smiled and said, "We noticed about two minutes after we walked in the door."

  Mrs. Kopek folded her arms and said, "So?"

  Carter smiled and said, "So, what?"

  "So, you hire me for housekeeper?"

  I looked at Carter who said in his sweet southern accent, "Mrs. Kopek, Nick and I have needed a housekeeper since we first moved in here. Will you do us the honor of coming to work for us?"

  She looked at him and then at me, "This English?"

  We all laughed.

  I said, "Yes. Won't you please work for us?"

  She smiled broadly. "Yes. I will." Looking at me with a twinkle in her eye, she asked, "Does job include apartment?"

  I laughed and said, "Of course!"

  . . .

  Mike called and said he'd be coming by around 9 that evening. By that time, everyone else had left. Carter and I were necking on the sofa and listening to Jo Stafford on the hi-fi.

  When he knocked on the door, I disentangled myself from Carter's arms, got up from the couch, and answered the door.

  "Carter here?" Mike was pulling one of his old gags. The two of them liked to pretend I was too short for them to see.

  Carter called out, "Over here, Mike. Be sure you don't squash him on your way in."

  I rolled my eyes and walked over to the bar. "Drink? Or are your gigantic hands too large to hold the glass?"

  Mike laughed and said, "Whiskey, neat, if you have it."

  "Carter?" I asked.

  He jumped up and said, "I'll grab a beer from the icebox." As he walked past me, I said, "If there's any in there, I'll take one, too."

  I poured a double whiskey for Mike and was walking over to him when I heard Carter call out from the kitchen. "Hoo, boy!"

  I turned and looked. He was carrying two unmarked bottles in his hand. My eyes widened and I asked, "Is it?"

  He smiled and nodded. "Yep."

  I turned to Mike. "Before you drink any of that whiskey, take a sip of this."

  Carter handed him a bottle. Mike looked at it. "What is it?"

  Carter said, "Taste it first."

  Mike took a swig and looked up at Carter. "That's great!"

  Carter nodded. "Home-made Bohemian pilsner from Oakland."

  Mike smiled. "Is this from your Czechoslovakian connection?"

  We both nodded. I said, "It tastes even better with a squeeze of orange juice. Too bad we don't have any."

  . . .

  Once we were settled, Mike said, "Wanted to let you know about a couple of things that have come up while you were gone."

  We both nodded.

  "First, ballistics matched the gun your guy was carrying to the bullets in Mr. Z. The fingerprints were a match, too."

  "Good to know," I said. "What about Mrs. Kopek's friend, the loyal party member?"

  "She was deported and left the country yesterday. I heard it went all the way up to Secretary Dulles. The F.B.I. wanted to arrest her on espionage and the State Department stepped in and said otherwise, so she should be back in Czechoslovakia by now."

  "What about the money?"

  Mike smiled. "The F.B.I. found the money in Switzerland."

  "How much?"

  "Half a million Swiss Francs."

  Carter asked, "How much is that?"

  "About a hundred and fifteen thousand dollars."

  "What happens to it, now?" I asked.

  "My guy at the Bureau says that the Swiss government doesn't want to give it up and then there's the Czechoslovakian government wanting it back. Probably gonna be tied up for years."

  I smiled. "You have a guy at the Bureau?"

  "Sure. Thanks to Andy." Mike took a deep breath and looked at me. "You realize it's been almost six months since we got this thing off the ground?" He was referring to Consolidated Security.

  "Sure. Waddaya think so far?"

  Mike shook his head. "So far, so good. And I hear we might be moving. Any truth to that?"

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Who talked?" I asked.

  Mike shrugged. I looked over at Carter who was studying his shoes.

  "So, who else knows?" I was talking to Carter when I said this.

  He looked up. His face was sheepish. "Just Mike. I needed to talk to him about it."

  This surprised me.

  Mike said, "Before you get on your high horse, Nick, I think this is an excellent idea."

  "You do?"

  "Sure. By the time it's done, we're gonna need the space. In fact, we need more space now."

  "What about the rest of the fourth floor?" I asked.

  "We could squeeze out one more office up there. But Kenneth is hiring another attorney. The guy starts in a week or so."

  I nodded. "Have you hired anyone since we brought Sam on board?"

  Mike nodded. "Yep. A sergeant from the Mission Station who was fired after he was picked up during a raid on The Kit Kat over on Polk."

  I muttered, "That place, again. I thought it was shut down."

  "Re-opened. Now closed again. The Examiner is busting balls, Nick. And the mayor is pushing hard on the police chief. You know how it goes."

  I nodded. "Well, we should
be in the new building by early '55. We'll see."

  Mike said, "You should get that Robert looking for a short-term solution."

  "Yeah." I was getting tired. We'd been flying for three days. "Anything else, Mike?" I looked at my friend and felt that familiar wave of affection.

  He looked down. "Bud and I are over."

  Carter asked, "What happened?"

  "I caught him with another guy in our bed."

  I reached out my hand and put it on his arm. "Sorry about that. That's a tough break."

  Mike nodded. "Yeah. Bud's moved on. He's back in Newport Beach by now. He didn't even give Captain O'Reilly any notice. Just got on the train and that was that."

  O'Reilly was the captain who piloted our yacht, The Flirtatious Captain. Bud had been a crewman on board. That's how he and Mike first met.

  Carter asked, "What's next for you?"

  Mike smiled. "I went for a stroll down Market Street a few days ago and met a swell guy. We've even been to the movies."

  Carter slapped him on the back. "Good for you."

  Mike shrugged. "Early days. But he seems like a good guy."

  Carter asked, "What's he look like?"

  Mike said, "Just my type. Shorter, lean, dark hair, dark eyes." He looked away from me as he said this.

  "What's he do?" I asked.

  Mike laughed. "He's a fireman at Station 8. Just off 4th Street."

  I smiled at this. "What's his name?"

  Carter said, "Lemme guess. Ray Hunter?" Mike nodded. Carter shook his head. "I would've thought Hunter wasn't in the life."

  Mike replied, "He's not, really. He's married. But they're divorcing. And he needs a place to stay." Mike looked down at his hands.

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh, brother."

  . . .

  The next morning was Thursday and the sun was out. I hopped out of bed and pulled the covers off of Carter, who wasn't ready to get up yet.

  I said, "We're not going to the office this morning. I wanna go out on the Captain."

  Carter moaned. "C'mon, Nick. It must be freezing out there."

  I said, "I don't care. I have a hankering for big blue sky and cruising under a big orange bridge with a big blonde fireman at my side."

  Carter smiled but pulled the covers up and said, "If O'Reilly is game, then I'll go. But you really should give the poor guy some notice."