Once we were tucked in and after Andy and Mike demonstrated their chopstick tricks, like eating one grain of rice at a time, I asked, "Any leads on this Hilda Logan?"
Andy nodded. "Walter did all the work, but yeah, from what we can tell, she and Fontaine were shacked up together for the last ten years."
Carter said, "So Hilda was the girlfriend while Mildred was the wife?"
"Seems like it."
I was having a hard time believing this. "But didn't Hilda know Mildred from a long time ago? That's what Patty said."
Andy nodded. "Walter did a trace on Mildred and Hilda and John Fontaine. They all grew up in Odessa, in West Texas. All the same age. Seems like Mildred and Fontaine reunited in Houston back in the 30s. That's when they got married. He bought a house in Galveston and they lived together for a year. When they split up, Mildred headed out here."
"Any clue as to why Hilda is in town?"
"None. But obviously she came to tell Mildred something about Fontaine."
Mike shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not."
I looked at him as he picked up a spear of asparagus and began to eat it. I asked Andy, "Is Mildred involved in this Rio Grande Club?"
Andy replied, "Hard to tell. We hired a local private dick by the name of Whitey Johnson. He talked to Mildred, asked her if she was in trouble, and got the door slammed in his face. He's on standby if we want him to try again."
I could feel a knot in my stomach growing. I looked over at Mike who was putting a piece of crab in his mouth. He looked back at me and nodded slightly.
"Andy," I asked, "How would you like to take a trip to Texas?"
. . .
Once we got the details of that sorted out, I said, "I have some news."
Carter asked, "Is this about Ben and Carlo?"
I nodded.
"I already know and I think it's a good idea."
I sighed with relief. "Good. I was afraid what you would say. We need to find you another arson investigator, though."
Carter took a bite and nodded.
"Will someone tell me what this is about?" That was Mike.
I replied, "Ben and Carlo wanna move to L.A."
"Good."
I looked at Mike. "How's that?"
He took a deep breath and put down his chopsticks. "How do I say this?"
Andy said, "Ben's lousy at his job, that's how you say it."
I looked at Mike who nodded. I said, "Yeah. He admitted as much to me. Three hours of doing Marnie's job was too much for him." I took a sip of tea. "But I think he'll do great in Hollywood."
Mike tilted his head to the side, tightened his lips, and looked at Carter for a long moment. Carter turned and asked, "How much?"
I replied, "How much what?"
"How much did you give him?"
I shook my head. "It's not like that. I told him to go down there, get his feet wet for six months, and then come back here with a solid proposal." I took another sip of tea. "Then I'll give him the money."
Carter squeezed my thigh under the table. Looking at Andy, he said, "This is what Mike calls, 'Nick being Nick.'"
I just shrugged as everyone else laughed.
. . .
Mike walked into the office a few minutes before 5. "Walter is on his way back from Sausalito. He should be here in a few minutes."
I smiled and said, "Good."
Carter was sitting on the edge of my desk, distracting me again. He smiled down at me, stood up, and stretched. His shirt escaped his belt and he made a real show of taking off his coat and tucking it back in.
Mike smirked and said, "It's been like walking into a boudoir around here lately."
Carter said, "What can I say? Jail changes a man."
Mike frowned. "You really shouldn't joke about it. There's something fishy about all this and I think it's a setup to get both of you on the stand. You know what could happen if you were under oath?"
I nodded. "Kenneth is worried about that, too."
Mike asked, "When will Marnie be back?"
"Robert talked to her and she said they'll be back on Sunday night. The service is on Saturday."
There was a timid knock on the door. I'd sent Robert home early, so Mike walked over and opened it.
It was Walter. He was carrying a large briefcase that looked almost half as big as he was tall. He looked up at Mike with that same look of nervous awe and then slipped around him. "I, uh, talked to the lady at the Rexall counter."
"Have a seat, Walter." I motioned to the chair in front of my desk. He did just that, setting his case on the floor. Carter leaned against the wall while Mike stood in the door frame.
Walter reached down and opened his case. Taking out a clipboard, Walter sat back and gave his report. "Her name is Noreen James. She's 41 years of age. Married to Wallace 'Bud' James. Lives at 247 San Carlos Avenue. Phone number Sausalito 337. Worked at the fountain counter for Sausalito Rexall Drug since it opened in 1947. No children. Registered Democrat. Husband 'Bud' formerly employed by Marinships Shipyard. Now a groundskeeper at the Presidio. He's a registered Republican. Voted for Roosevelt but not Truman. Walks to work unless it's raining, according to Mrs. James."
Carter, looking impressed, asked, "What if it's raining?"
Walter pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his sweaty brow. "He gets a ride with John Giamatti of 241 San Carlos Avenue, who has a 1947 Nash 600, license plate--"
I said, "That's fine, Walter. Very thorough. Did you also go to San Rafael to the courthouse?"
Walter wiped his whole face and turned around to look at Mike, who asked, "Well?"
Turning back to face me, Walter said, "No, Mr. Williams. Should I have done so?"
I laughed. "No. I just wondered how you found out that Noreen is a registered Democrat."
"Oh." He giggled. It was cute. "She told me."
I nodded. "So, has she been talking to the cops?"
He shook his head. "No, Mr. Williams. She hasn't. I asked her quite specifically."
"You didn't tell her why you were asking, did you?"
Walter gasped and removed his glasses. Doing so gave him a blank expression. His eyes appeared smaller without them on. He took his handkerchief and polished the lenses while looking miffed. "I certainly did not, Mr. Williams. The very thought!" He put his glasses back on and looked at me. "I posed as a roving surveyor, asking working housewives about a new product."
Reaching down in this case, he pulled out a small jar. Using a radio announcer voice, Walter said, "Does washing dishes leave your hands dry and rough? We're asking busy working housewives to try Cream-O, a new product not available anywhere. In exchange for our small sample jar, we just ask you to answer a few survey questions so we can know more about our valued customers."
Mike, Carter, and I all laughed. I said, "That's perfect, Walter."
He grinned and giggled again. "Thank you, Mr. Williams."
I reached over and picked up the jar. It was obviously a hand cream jar he'd bought somewhere and then removed the label. "No fake label?"
Walter put his hand to his chest. "No! It's more believable if there's no label at all. It's the manufacturer's secret, after all."
We all laughed again.
"Did she mention anything about us?"
"Yes. She told me she'd seen two men kissing in the park in 1948. She pointed to exactly where you said you'd been that day. She said it was certainly unusual but that, confidentially, she'd overheard the tall man say 'I love you' to the dark-haired man at the fountain counter and that, would I believe it, the dark-haired man had punched the tall man just outside the store. Everyone had seen it and several people wondered why the tall man didn't hit back."
I looked over at Carter and smiled. He pulled the brim of his hat down as he blushed.
Walter continued, "She said it was the strangest thing, but she'd seen these same two men on Monday and that they'd come in for breakfast but were gone before she could talk to them. She was sure she'd seen one of them in the
newspaper but didn't know which one or why."
I looked up at Mike and said, "He's good."
Mike nodded. "I told you."
Looking back over at Walter, I asked, "How did you get all that out of her?"
Walter smiled. When he did, his owlish face faded and he took on an impish quality. "I asked her to tell me the most unusual thing she'd seen in her hometown. I mentioned that her story would be entered into a nationwide contest and that the first-place winner would receive a new refrigerator."
Mike looked at me, "Looks like you're gonna need to send Noreen a new icebox."
I nodded and glanced over at Walter, who was wiping his forehead, looking owlish once again.
. . .
On Saturday, we had dinner at home with Henry and Robert. Henry was trying not to be worried about us, but wasn't doing a good job of that.
"What happens if you go to trial after the hearing?"
I shrugged. "They don't have any real evidence. It could happen but I don't see how."
Robert was looking at the soup. "What is this?"
I shrugged. "Dunno. It's good, isn't it?"
Robert nodded. "Yes. I've never tasted anything like it. I could make this a whole meal. Between that and this bread." He picked up a piece from his bread plate and popped it in his mouth.
"Yeah. Mrs. Strakova is a wonderful cook. She used to own a restaurant in the same town in Czechoslovakia where Sam was born. That's how she knows Mrs. Kopek. They grew up together."
Henry shook his head as he looked around the dining room. "I still can't believe you two live here."
Carter said, "It's a long way from Albinny, ain't it?" That was how most people in their hometown pronounced the name. We all laughed.
I ran my hand along the polished redwood table. Carter was sitting at the head, with his back to the window that looked out over the garden. I was to his left, facing the great room. Robert was on his right, facing me, and Henry was next to Robert. There was still room for at least ten more people. It was too big for a small group but we hadn't yet figured out what to do with it.
Henry said, "This is a handsome table. How old is it?"
I replied, "As old as the house, so fifty years or so. We were thinking about cutting it up to--"
"Nick!" Henry looked at me. He was outraged. "You'll do no such thing. Not as long as we're friends."
I looked over at Carter who was grinning. "Why is that?" I asked.
"This is a real work of art. You leave it as it is."
I nodded and said, "OK, then. That settles that."
We all ate for a moment in silence. I thought Henry was slightly embarrassed at his outburst. I appreciated his fervor. But I thought I would change the subject, nevertheless. I said, "I never thought I would live here or eat at this table again. Not after everything that happened with Mike and my father. And then the lawsuits."
Robert said, "If I'm not being too nosy, can you tell me that story?"
I shrugged. "Sure. When I was 17, I was running wild, particularly down South of the Slot." That was the name for the area of town south of Market Street. "Mike was on foot patrol then and that's how we met. He took me under his wing and tried to show me the wrongness of my ways. He was 25 then and the first man to ever take an interest in me, in any sense of the word."
Right then, Gustav came in with a tray to clear the soup bowls. When we'd first moved in and Mrs. Kopek had hired everyone, Ida, the kitchen maid had been serving us. But when Aunt Velma came to town, she told Mrs. Kopek that Gustav should be serving the meals. And so he was. "Did you like?" he asked.
Everyone nodded. Robert said, "The best soup I've ever had. Please tell Mrs. Strakova thank you."
Gustav smiled and said, "I will." He gathered the bowls on his tray and walked back into the kitchen.
Robert said, "He looks so good in that tuxedo."
I smiled. "Don't let Ferdinand hear you saying that. He's one jealous boyfriend."
Henry cleared his throat. "And what am I, chopped liver?"
We all laughed as Robert leaned over and kissed Henry on the cheek. "Definitely not."
They made a great couple. Made me happy to see them together. I said, "To answer your question, Robert, my father kicked me out of the house in the summer of '39 after he caught Mike bringing me home because I was too strung out to take care of myself. He took me to his apartment and I lived there until I enlisted in the Navy right after Pearl Harbor."
Robert sighed. "That's so romantic."
I laughed. "It was, in a way. Mike taught me to take care of myself and to get rid of the chip I had on my shoulder."
"Tell him about what happened in 1940 when Mike and your father met." That was Henry.
"How'd you know about that?"
Henry shrugged. "I think Carter told me when we were still living together."
I looked at Carter who said, "You think I just sat in the dark those two years and didn't say anything to anyone about this amazing guy I was in love with?"
I reached over, took Carter's hand, and kissed the back of it.
He smiled and said, "I love you, too."
Mrs. Strakova came out of the kitchen at that moment. I held onto Carter's hand as she said, "You like the soup?"
We all nodded. Robert said, "It was delicious."
She smiled and said, "Ida"
The kitchen maid came to the door. "Yes, Mrs. Strakova?"
Mrs. Strakova pushed her into the dining room. "I am teaching her to cook. It was her soup."
I said, "Congratulations Ida. It was delicious."
She curtsied and fled as Mrs. Strakova laughed.
Once they were gone, I said, "It was a cold day in December of '40. Mike and I were sitting in the window of Compton's Cafeteria. The one at South Van Ness and Market. I have no idea what my father was doing down there--"
"He was at the Fox Theater to see a movie." That was Carter.
I turned and looked at my husband. "How do you know that? And since when does Parnell Williams go to the movies?"
"I asked him about it back in the spring. We had a huge fight over it."
In a hushed voice, Henry asked, "You had a fight with Dr. Williams?"
Carter nodded, took some bread, and began to smear butter on it. "Sure. Several times. Makes me appreciate Nick's easy-going manner so much more." He looked at me, took a bite of the bread, and winked.
I was surprised. But, then again, I wasn't. I knew Carter had been coming over here for at least a year before we moved from Eureka Valley.
I continued, "OK. So, we see my father and he sees us. He's not pleased but he walked over to the curb and waited. Without saying anything, we both stood up and walked outside to talk to him. He looks at me and says, 'You're looking healthy, Nicholas.' He was right. I was no longer the skinny kid I'd been the year before when he'd kicked me out. I was doing manual labor and had grown into my body. Plus..." I blushed.
"Say it, Nick." Carter looked over at me with mischief in his face. "Or, I'll say it the way you told me."
I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth. Right then, the kitchen door opened and Gustav brought out the main course, which was pork loin, roasted parsnips, wilted salad, and some sort of tomato relish.
Once we were tucked in, I said, "Anyway, my father said--"
"Come on, Nick!" That was Henry. He was grinning.
I looked at him directly and said, "You probably know this better than anyone else. It's hard work being with a giant."
Henry and Robert both guffawed. I looked at Carter who was nodding and smiling in a way that made me feel nice and warm inside.
I took a bite of the pork loin and some tomato relish. It was tasty, no doubt about it. "Anyway, Mike stuck out his hand to my father and said, 'I'm Mike Robertson, Dr. Williams.' My father backed up and began to say some of the most godawful things to Mike. He didn't use a single curse word and he never raised his voice, but he accused Mike of anything and everything. It went on for about fifteen minutes before Mike
walked back into Compton's. My father said to me, 'You think I don't know what you've been doing with that pervert?' I looked at him and said, 'I don't fucking care what you think.' And that was the last thing I said to my father outside of a courtroom for several years."
Robert shook his head. "Really?"
I nodded. "When I inherited the trust from my Uncle Paul in '43, I was as surprised as anyone. My father and some of his siblings and cousins decided to contest the will. The whole thing went on until '48, when the California Supreme Court finalized the deal. It was pretty awful."
Carter said, "He apologized for that at Christmas."
I nodded. "That he did."
Robert looked at Henry and then at me. "Wow, Nick. Your father seems so, well, maybe nice isn't the word. But he was very kind to us while Henry and I were here last month." My father and Lettie had put us all up, along with Mike, for a few days when we thought the mob might be after us. My father had, in his own way, apologized to Mike. Mike, however, still didn't like the man. And I couldn't blame him.
Henry said, "He's changed." Looking at Carter, he said, "It's all because of you."
To the extent that my father had changed had everything to do with Carter. And Lettie. But it started with Carter. I was more in Mike's camp, however. I didn't completely trust him. But, he was coming along. I looked at Henry and smiled. "You're right about that."
. . .
Sunday morning, I woke up with the dawn. Slipping out of bed as quietly as I could, I pulled on my trousers and slipped on my shirt. Moving quietly, I opened the bedroom door and walked down the hall to the semi-circular staircase that hugged the wall next to the front door. I walked down the stairs, across the cool marble of the entry hall, and padded into the office.
I looked in the little directory I kept by the phone. Once I found Captain O'Reilly's number, I dialed it.
After several rings, a sleepy voice answered. "O'Reilly here."
"Captain, I'm sorry to bother you so early."
I heard a male voice in the background say, "Who is it?"
O'Reilly put his hand over the mouthpiece, but I could still hear him say, "Never you mind." The other voice said something I couldn't understand. O'Reilly chuckled and said, "Give me five minutes, bucko, and I'll answer that question in the proper way." Removing his hand, the captain said, "Good morning, Mr. Williams. I was expecting a call from you today, don't you worry."
The Iniquitous Investigator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 8) Page 7
