Chapter 10
137 Hartford Street
Friday, May 15, 1953
About half past 8 or so
Carter, who liked red plum jam above all other jams and jellies, was about to lick his middle finger, which was covered in the red goo, when I intercepted his hand and did it for him.
We were sitting like this when I heard a knock on the front door.
I sighed and said, "You have to answer it."
He grunted, pulled on his dick to get it back into place as he stood up, and hobbled to the front door.
I heard a high feminine voice say, "Hi, Carter. Hope I'm not bothering you boys this morning. I threw Mitzi's ball too high and it's in your backyard."
Carter said, "Good morning, Diane. Aren't you going to be late to school?"
She giggled. "Probably, but Mitzi will tear up our living room furniture if she doesn't have her ball."
The voices got closer as they walked towards the kitchen. Diane came in and said, "Hi, Nick. Sorry to bother you boys."
She was a cute thing. She was petite and stood at about Carter's elbow. She was wearing a pink and red dress she'd made herself that was cute in 1950 and was still fine today, only she needed to bring up the hem a couple of inches. She was wearing sensible oxfords, being smart enough to know that standing on your feet all day could be hell on your feet. Her hair was a mass of blonde curls that she tried to manage in a number of ways. That morning she had most of it pinned back up off her face. I always thought that was the most attractive look for her.
I said, "It's no bother as long as you don't mind if I don't get up. I'm not dressed yet."
She giggled again. "Oh, that's fine."
Carter said, "Hold on just one minute, Diane. I'll go get Dame Mitzi's ball for you."
With that, he went out the back door and hobbled down the steps to go find it.
"Have a seat. And help yourself to coffee if you want some. Again, it's better if I don't get up."
She giggled and said, "No coffee for me this morning. I've already had two cups and Pam says I really have to cut back."
Then she frowned. "Oh, gee, Nick. I'm so sorry. I read all about your sister. That's tough. I'm real sorry. So is Pam. She told me to tell you so. I asked her if I should bring you a casserole or something and she said that would be like bringing a tuna fish sandwich to The Palace. And I guess she's right. You're such a good cook and all that."
I loved Diane. She usually went as my date. But Pam was right. The girl needed to cut back on her coffee intake.
"Thanks, Diane. I appreciate the sentiment."
"I read that the memorial is tomorrow afternoon at Grace Cathedral. I'll bet there'll be some crowd there. Your family. Gee, I still can't believe you live here and not in some fancy mansion on Nob Hill. I was just telling Pam the other day how nice it was that you and Carter lived next door to us. Makes the neighborhood more neighborly like that, don't you think?"
I smiled and wondered where Carter was. "I do. You two are the best neighbors we could have."
She giggled for the fifth time. "Well, we love you guys. And I still think it was so funny the way you gave me that check, which we really needed at the time by the way, and put 'Pain and Suffering' in the memo. Pam's difficult but I have my ways. Just don't tell her anything about that."
I shook my head solemnly. "Mum's the word."
Carter walked in right then and I was vastly relieved. He handed over the red ball, which, of course, was covered with slobber and morning dew and bits of grass from when Manuel had cut the yard the day before. Just the thing for him to handle and perfectly fine for me to never, ever touch.
"Well, I'd better go. I'm sure that mean old principal is gonna be mad that I'm late again." She giggled.
"What about your students?" asked Carter as he expertly guided her into the hallway and on her way out the door.
"Oh, they love it when I'm late. They always pretend like I'm in the ladies and they're quiet as mice. But I think the principal knows anyway. OK, thanks, Carter." She yelled in my direction. "Bye, Nick. Thanks again!"
I waved in that direction, knowing she wouldn't see me and would have forgotten about me anyway as she ran next door, up the stairs, and delivered the royal gem to her majesty, Queen Mitzi.
Carter hobbled back in and grinned.
I stood up and started clearing plates.
He said, "You go upstairs and get dressed. I'll take care of this."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure. Doctor Mullins told me yesterday to move around in different ways. He said it would help strengthen my leg."
I said, "OK." I reached up on my toes and gave him a kiss. "You should get an award for best neighbor ever."
He swatted me on the behind as I turned to go upstairs.
. . .
I rolled into my office around 10 am. Marnie was there and was on the phone. She said, "He just walked in the door, Mike."
I walked into my office, put my hat on the rack, took a seat, and picked up the receiver.
"What'd you find, Mike?"
"You won't believe this. Are you sitting down?"
"Sure." But I sat up straight.
"Your sister got a series of wire transfers in from some bank in Switzerland last year. All in all, the deposits were close to five hundred grand."
"Are you serious?"
I could hear the street noise. I figured he was standing in the booth right next to the Hibernia branch on Castro.
"You bet. What's more, it came from a numbered account."
"What does that mean?"
"Whoever had the account is anonymous and no amount of pleading or crying can make the bank or the Swiss government tell who owned the account because they don't know."
"That's like those Nazi accounts."
"Right. You don't think?"
"Of course not. This smells like Uncle Paul, to tell you the truth. Janet turned 25 last year."
"When was her birthday?"
"April 19th. Why?"
"Well, because the first of the deposits hit her account on April 21st."
I looked at the previous year's calendar. "That makes sense. April 21st was a Monday. Her birthday was on a Saturday."
"Do you remember her saying anything about getting some money for her birthday?"
I thought for a moment. "I don't think I saw her for her birthday last year."
"Your own sister?"
"That's the Williamses for you. Like I said, even though she and I were probably as close as any two siblings in our wretched family have been for generations, we still hardly saw each other. Too many bad memories."
"Gee, Nick. I knew it was bad but I didn't know it was that bad."
"Well, when your own father sues you in probate court... You get the picture."
"Sure. Well, I wanted to tell you about this as soon as I could. If you find out anything from your end, let me know, will you? Your dad is breathing down my neck again."
"I'll call him right now. I want to tell him about the money before anyone else does. I want to hear how he reacts. You wouldn't know what to listen for."
"Thanks, Nick. Saves me the trouble, and I mean trouble, of having to call him."
"No problem."
"Say, so who's the guy that Carter found for Ben White?"
I laughed. "He's the one guy neither of us would have ever expected. Tried to give Carter a rubdown yesterday but was persuaded to put on his best duds and meet us at the Mark Hopkins instead. Speaking of which, I need to call them. Gotta go, Mike. Thanks for the call."
"Any time, Nick." And, with that, I dropped the receiver.
"Marnie!"
"Yeah, Nick?" came the answer as she walked in.
"Any mail I need to see?"
"Nothing really. I paid all the bills. The rest was trash."
"Good girl. Get me the maitre d' at the Top of the Mark on the phone, will ya?"
Her eyes lit up. "You and Carter going on a date tonight?"
"A double-date. We're hooking up a cop with a fireman."
"Ooh! That sounds dreamy."
"Oh, Marnie. We need to find you a guy."
"No thanks, Nick. I've got my mother and that's plenty for me."
"Sometime you gotta tell me who broke your heart."
She clammed up, which was always startling to witness. "Some other time, Nick. Let me get you that hoity-toity on the phone."
I sat back in the chair and put my feet up on the desk. I tried to figure out who would have set up a bequest like that for Janet and whether that's why she was killed. If she died, who benefited under the terms? Suddenly I realized I needed to get over to her house. Right away.
The phone rang. I had to take this one, however. I picked up and Marnie said, "Please hold for Nick Williams."
I heard a click and then Marcel spoke. "Ah, Mr. Williams, what a pleasure to hear from you."
"Thanks Marcel. Look, I need the very best table for four that you have tonight at 7 pm. I've got a hundred bucks for you if you can swing it."
"For you, Mr. Williams, I certainly can. I see... Alors... Mr. Hearst is bringing his younger brother... And they have... Hold one moment." The line went silent and I thought to myself that if there was any justice in this world then I was about to bump that bastard Hearst from his table.
Marcel came back on the line. "I see that Mr. Hearst and party had an unexpected cancellation." That meant that Marcel had moved them around. They would be there and they would be glaring at us but we would be there at the best table, all four of us big queers having a wonderful time and hopefully sparking a romance, and there wouldn't be a damn thing any of them could do about it. Besides, I knew enough about the guy to know he was a lousy tipper.
Chapter 11
777 Bush Street
Friday, May 15, 1953
Just past 1 in the afternoon
I jumped up after I put the phone down and grabbed my hat. I realized I didn't have my gun and, more importantly, I had no idea where Janet lived.
As I was walking out I gave Marnie some instructions.
"Call St. Mary's and tell them you're following up on some of the details about Janet Williams. Tell them you're calling from Dr. Williams' office."
"Uh huh."
"I need to find out what address they have on file with her. If they don't have it or won't give it, call the county tax assessor and ask them. Promise anything to anyone. No amount of money is too high. I need that address. And I need it now."
"But where will I get in touch with you, Nick?"
"I'm going home to get my gun. Also, call the firehouse and ask around for Carter. He had his suit on this morning, so I don't know where he was going. But tell him what I'm doing. Under no circumstances are you to leave a message with anyone about any of this, got it?"
"Sure, Nick. You sure are fired up."
"I'm pretty sure the reason why Janet was murdered is in her house. I just hope I get to it before anyone else does. One other... no... two other things."
"What's that, Nick?"
"Call Mike and tell him what I'm doing. Do that first. Then call him back with the address as soon as you have it. And, if you track down Carter in time, give it to him as well. I want as many people as possible to know what I'm doing. And here's the last thing."
"What's that?"
"Do not tell my father, under any circumstances, anything about anything. Got that? If he calls, I'm not in. You haven't seen me. You don't know nothing."
"Got it. Be careful, Nick."
"I'm sure I'm worrying about nothing, but just in case..."
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then I was out of there. I flew down the stairs and jumped into the Buick and was off.
. . .
When I got home, I found my gun and holster and strapped them on under my right arm. I called Marnie and was happy I did.
"I got it, Nick. No problem. The lady at the hospital was real sweet. Tell me when you're ready for the address."
I had a pencil and pad by the phone. When she told me, I whistled. "I know Nick, right?"
I said, "Twenty thousand bucks can buy a lot of house in this town."
"Wow, Nick."
"Remember. Tell Mike and Carter as soon as you can. Don't tell my father. Got it?"
"Got it."
"You're a doll." I dropped the receiver and ran out the door.
As I drove up Stanyan and passed St. Mary's where I'd last seen Janet, I could feel some of the sadness come back. I'd been doing pretty good since Monday, laying low and nursing the hurt. But this was like re-opening the wound.
The Buick took the hills pretty well. Soon I was over by the Presidio. Janet's house was on Pacific, near Walnut, and it backed up against the Army reservation that had some of the best views in The City.
The house was a newer one. It was covered in shingles, which was smart this close to the ocean. It was two stories, built in a style I'd heard referred to as "organic", but I figured that just meant it was built however the architect wanted.
There was a bank of windows facing west, which I guessed got a pretty great sunset. I went up to the door and tried it. It was locked. But that never really stopped me and, as far as I knew, I was in Janet's will as next of kin, so who was to say I didn't have a right to be here?
I was surprised when I walked in. The house was basically empty. There was a dining table with one chair. A sofa was near the fireplace in the living room, which overlooked a small garden. There was a radio on the mantel. The house was quiet. If anyone had been there, they were gone.
I tried to imagine where Janet would keep important papers and things like a will or, hopefully, letters that started off, "Here's the answers to all your questions." Those were always helpful, but it had been my experience that they only existed in an author's fevered imagination. In real life, you had little crumbs to follow and, if you were real lucky, they led somewhere. If you weren't, you sometimes fell into traps or got stuck in quicksand. I was hoping neither would be the case here, but I could sense that I was getting close to quicksand.
I walked up the stairs to the second floor and found the one occupied bedroom. It was a brightly lit room in the midday sun. The floor was a blonde wood and the walls were all painted a bright white. There was a double bed in the middle of the room that looked like it hadn't been made up in years.
The room, of course, was a mess, which didn't surprise me at all. Janet had never been able to keep a clean room. This had led to some of the worst of the things that had gone down in our rough and tumble childhood. We looked like the perfect family to most anyone who didn't know us well, but it was basically a living hell that you could only hope to escape from.
I started poking around the room, pulling open drawers and looking through the one bookshelf she had standing against the long wall. Some of the books I recognized from long ago. Then there were the ones she'd probably picked up at Stanford.
A fake treasure chest sitting one of the shelves caught my attention. This would be just the thing to hide important documents in and it would have been something she would have thought very funny.
Janet had a wonderfully weird sense of humor, like the one time she held a trial for one of her dolls and had set up a courtroom, including a jury box of 12 hand-picked dolls. Unfortunately, that one doll was unable to prove its innocence.
She'd asked me to help build a little guillotine but I'd been shocked and appalled and suggested an electric chair instead. So we executed the doll by flipping the lights on and off and making sizzling noises like we'd seen in the movies.
I opened the chest. It was made of wood, cheap wood, actually. And it had bright rhinestone jewels on the lid. There were bits and pieces of actual jewelry inside. Some of it was quite nice. I pocketed the better pieces, thinking I might find someone who would like them. I knew it wasn't necessarily legal but they would be mine to give away if things went well, and if they didn't then no one else deserved to have them.
I loo
ked at the box from the outside more closely and realized there was a false bottom. I looked inside again and, sure enough, there was a little fabric tab hidden underneath a small shelf. I pulled on that and there they were: a couple of letters postmarked from Boston and two official documents of some sort. I grabbed them, stuck them in my coat breast pocket, and then put the box back together and replaced it on the bookshelf.
I looked around and vowed I would be back. I would be back and I would make this a beautiful house and then give it to someone who needed it. There was no reason for it to sit lonely and unloved like this. Poor Janet. She just never learned how to be good to herself.
Chapter 12
3250 Pacific Avenue
Friday, May 15, 1953
About half past 2 in the afternoon
I was going down the stairs when I heard the front door open. I stopped and pressed myself against the wall. Very slowly, I reached in under my right arm and unsnapped my holster. I quietly pulled out the gun and moved it to my right hand. I held it down at my side and softly released the safety.
Maybe it was Mike or Carter, but they would have called out. They wouldn't be sneaking inside.
I thought my best bet was to hide in one of the empty rooms upstairs. I heard whoever it was making noise, like they were opening kitchen drawers. I slowly backed up the steps and then backed into the room right at the top of the stairs. I hid behind the door so I could see out the crack between the door and the frame. I left the door open enough to make sure it was clear that it was an empty room.
I stood there for what seemed like a long while. Whoever was downstairs was still banging around. Then footsteps. I now knew it was a woman. I could hear the distinctive click of heels on the wood stairs. As her head came around the corner, I realized I had no idea who I was seeing. She was moving slowly but with determination, as if it was painful to walk.
Finally, when she got to the top of the stairs, she stopped to take a breath. Then I heard her say, "It's got to be in the bedroom."
The Unexpected Heiress (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 1) Page 6
