"To what purpose?"
I tried not to snicker.
"To demonstrate that the expression of male homosexuality is situational."
"Will you be studying a narrow range of individuals?"
"No. I seek to expand my research into the largest possible sample population I can locate."
"I see and how is your research funded?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"It sounds like you have a lot of work on your plate. Does your private practice and consulting afford you the ability to, as you say, contact the largest number of men that you can?" I heard Carter cough to cover a laugh. I was afraid to turn and look at him.
Wildman shifted in his chair. He ran his left hand over the back of his head and said, "No. Fortunately, I have received a grant from a prestigious foundation that enables me to carry out this work."
"I see. What is the name of this foundation?"
Wildman took in a breath, darted his eyes at me for a moment, and said, "They prefer to remain anonymous."
"I see. Remembering that you are under oath, is it possible that the name of the foundation is The American Freedom and Liberty Foundation?"
Wildman cleared his throat and said, "Yes, that's the name."
Kenneth walked back to the table. Ben handed him the big folder of documents that Jeffery had brought over the day before. "Your Honor, I offer the following documents as Defense Exhibits A through D." He put the folder on the judge's bench. The judge looked through them as Weissech stood and walked over. Once the judge nodded his assent, Kenneth took them down and handed them to Weissech, who looked through them quickly. He nodded, as well.
The judge said, "So entered."
Kenneth put them on the table in front of the stenographer and then picked up one of them. I could see that it was the grant itself.
"Now, Dr. Wildman, I have here, Defense Exhibit B, which is the grant signed by you and Jeffery Klein of The American Freedom and Liberty Foundation." He handed the document to Wildman who hesitated to pick it up. "Do you recognize that document?"
The doctor looked at it. "Yes."
"Please turn to the last page. Is that your signature?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. Now, how much was the grant given you last year by the foundation?"
Wildman sat up erect. "One hundred thousand dollars." There were some whispers in the gallery. I looked up at the judge who was peering over the bench and seemed not to hear the whispers.
"That seems like a lot. Is it?"
"Well, the foundation has a very large endowment and is capably managed."
"Yes. Do you know who funded the endowment?"
Wildman cut his eyes at me and then said, "No, I really don't. I'm sure there are many donors who contribute to their needed work."
Leaving the grant where it was, Kenneth walked back over to the stenographer's table. He picked up a single piece of paper. I knew it was just the inventory sheet for the binder, so I wondered what he was about to do.
Looking down at the page, Kenneth looked over at Wildman and asked, "Isn't it true that there were only two donors to the foundation?"
"I really couldn't say."
"Isn't the person who established the foundation in this very courtroom?"
Dr. Wildman pulled out a handkerchief and dotted the sweat of his forehead. "I don't know."
"Wasn't the foundation originally registered with the State of California under the name Williams Benevolent Foundation and wasn't Nicholas Williams, one of the defendants, the man who endowed the foundation and wasn't the other donor his late sister, Miss Janet Williams?"
There was more whispering. This time, the judge banged his gavel. The courtroom went quiet.
"I guess. If that's what it says."
Kenneth put the paper back on the table and walked over to the stand. "Dr. Wildman, could you read two sentences under Section 4 of the grant document. I've underlined it in pencil for you. That's the section entitled 'Responsibilities of Grantee.' Could you read that, please? It's on page five."
Wildman turned the pages slowly, as if he was trying to collect himself. He cleared his throat. "Grantee agrees to submit monthly summary reports of the work performed as described herein, including a tally of funds expended in pursuit of the work. Grantee further agrees to submit a detailed annual report (see Attachment 2) of the work performed as described herein, including a complete annual accounting of all funds expended from the grant."
Kenneth took the report from Wildman's shaking hand and said, "Thank you." He walked over to the stenographer's table and put the report in the stack.
Crossing back to the stand, Kenneth said, "Now, Dr. Wildman, the documents marked Defense Exhibits A through D represent the entirety of the files kept at the offices of The American Freedom and Liberty Foundation. There are no monthly reports. Remembering that you are under oath, have you filed any with the foundation that they might have misplaced?"
Wildman shook his head. He looked pale.
"Please state your answer for the court stenographer."
"No."
"Thank you." Kenneth went over and picked up the grant proposal. "In your proposal, marked as Exhibit A, you stated that you would use the money granted to you for hiring staff and the purchase of office supplies. How many employees do you have?"
"None."
"I see. Have you purchased anything in the line of office products? Maybe a Dictaphone, a moving picture camera, or other such recording device?"
"No."
"Thank you. In what bank did you deposit the check given you by the foundation?"
"First National Bank of San Rafael."
"And I assume that you placed the funds in a separate account, earmarked just for your research. Would that be correct?"
Wildman wiped his face. "No."
"Thank you." Kenneth walked back to the table, turned to face the judge, and said, "If it please the court, I have directed my office to send photostatic copies of the Defense Exhibits by registered mail to the Internal Revenue office in San Francisco, the California Board of Adjustment in Sacramento, the Attorney General in Sacramento, and the Marin County District Attorney here in San Rafael so they may investigate Dr. Wildman for tax evasion and fraud." With that, he sat down.
. . .
Following all that, the judge ordered a conference in chambers. The four attorneys and the judge walked through a door behind the bench. As they did, everyone in the gallery began to talk at once. I watched Wildman grab his hat and run out the door. No one stopped him. He wasn't under arrest. Not yet, anyway.
I turned around and smiled at the small crowd of friends and family that were seated behind us. My father leaned over and said, "That's one hell of an attorney you have there, Nicholas."
I nodded. "He's the best."
. . .
Once the judge and the attorneys were back in place, Weissech stood up and said, "Your Honor, if it pleases the court, the prosecution wishes to withdraw all charges against the defendants."
The judge looked down at us. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't sour like he had been. "Defendants are hereby released and free to go. The jury is dismissed with the thanks of the court. This court is adjourned." He banged the gavel, stood up, and left.
. . .
I stood up and could feel the relief of the ordeal being done. Carter stood up, put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. I turned around, looked at him, and mouthed the words, "I love you." He smiled and nodded.
"Mr. Williams? Mr. Jones?"
I turned and saw Weissech and Garety standing in front of the table. Weissech was smiling and Garety looked miserable.
I nodded coolly as Weissech stuck out his hand. "Congratulations." I looked over at Ben who shrugged. I shook the man's hand and watched as Carter did the same. Weissech then offered the same to Ben while saying, "Congratulations, counselor. Always a pleasure." When he shook Kenneth's hand, he said, "Fine work, Mr. Wilcox. I look forward to our next encounter in cou
rt." With that, he walked into the gallery followed by Garety who skulked more than walked.
I turned around and shook my father's hand. He was beaming. Then it was hugs all around with Lettie, Marnie, and Mrs. Jones. Even Mrs. Kopek was there. John gave me a big bear hug and, as he did, I could see Jeffery standing off to the side. I extricated myself from the group and walked around to the front of the table. Jeffery walked up and offered his hand. As I shook it, I said, "Thanks for your help."
He nodded. He wasn't smiling but he looked better. I stepped back and broke into grin. "Well, you son of a gun. You took my advice."
Jeffery smiled for a moment. "On both accounts. I stayed at the Palace last night while Rachel has a chance to come to terms with things. She hasn't decided whether she wants a divorce or not." He looked down at the floor for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes were wet. "Your new building is coming along nicely, by the way."
I shook my head and playfully punched his arm. "You're leaving out the best part, Jeffery." I lowered my voice and leaned in, "Where was it? Who was it?"
"That's none of your business, Nick. Suffice to say, I feel more myself."
I nodded. "That's good."
He said, "I'm going back to the City now. I'm glad you won. Wilcox was amazing."
I nodded and turned. He and Ben were standing close together.
Jeffery whispered, "Looks like love."
I nodded and said, "Yeah. Ain't it grand?"
. . .
We were standing in the visitor room at the jail, talking with Fitzsimmons, and waiting for our cartons.
I reached into my pocket and handed a small envelope to the man. "There's a note with the bank name and address in Oakland, along with the box number. The key is in there as well."
The man smiled and stuck the envelope in his pocket without saying a word. He looked up at Carter and said, "That's a good man you have there, Jones. Try to keep him outta trouble. I like him but would rather not see either of you back in here again."
Carter smiled tightly and said, "Will do."
Right then Officer Brown opened the door and wheeled in a small cart with our cartons. "Here you go."
I asked, "Can we leave our clothes and shoes for someone else?"
Fitzsimmons was easing his way to the door. He said, "I'm late for an appointment in Oakland, Officer Brown. Can you take care of this?" I could see the dollar signs in his eyes. That man definitely loved money.
Officer Brown replied, "Sure, Mr. Fitzsimmons."
The supervisor lifted his hat in our direction and said, "Gentlemen. It was a real pleasure." And with that, he was gone.
Officer Brown laughed quietly and said to me, "I'm guessing his appointment is at a bank and involves a safety deposit box."
I shrugged. "I don't know."
. . .
We had the top down and were driving across the bridge. It was a beautiful July day and the sun was warm. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes on the road because all I wanted to do was gaze at the sky.
Marnie had driven over to San Rafael in the Roadmaster. She'd handed me the keys as she'd hugged me in the courtroom and asked, "See you in the morning?"
I'd replied, "Late morning. Or maybe noon."
She'd giggled and said, "Oh, Nick!"
As we passed the tollbooth, Carter said, "Home, sweet, home."
I sighed. "Yeah. I never wanna leave again."
Carter put his left hand on my thigh and squeezed it. I tried very hard not to lose control of the wheel.
. . .
It was just past 1 when we parked the Roadmaster in the garage. As we got out, I walked to the trunk to open it. Carter took my keys out of my hand and said, "No." Pulling me by the arm, we walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. It looked like we were coming in at the tail end of lunch. Everyone stood up and Carter said, "Can't talk right now," and pulled me through the kitchen while Gustav and Ferdinand both snickered.
As I started up the stairs, he pushed from behind and said, "Get a move on, son." By the time we got to the long hallway, we were both running and laughing. I opened the bedroom door and, as I did, Carter pushed me through and slammed the door behind him and slid the bolt in place to lock it.
I stood there for a moment and looked up at him. He had a look in his eyes that I'd seen before, but it had been a while. He threw his hat on the floor and then did the same to mine. Leaning over, he yanked off my tie and threw it on the bed. As he did that, I pulled off my coat and dropped it on the floor. He put his big hands under my neck and ripped the shirt off me as the buttons went flying. Then he ripped off my undershirt. Before long all our clothes were off, scattered around the room, and we were in a place and a time far away from any jail cell or cot and we didn't make it back to the land of the living until the sun was almost ready to set that evening.
Chapter 14
Offices of Consolidated Security
Tuesday, July 20, 1954
About half past 10 in the morning
It was so good to do a lot of things that morning. Carter and I took a long shower together. We had a leisurely breakfast out in the garden under a big blue sky. We decided to walk the few blocks to work just to take in the sounds and smells of the City we both loved so much. We even took a round-about way of getting there by walking down to Chinatown and around the side of Nob Hill. It was a glorious day and we were happy to be in it.
As we walked into the office, Marnie and Robert both stood up and offered hugs. It was good to be back. Definitely good.
I put my hat on the rack and asked, "Is Mike here?"
Marnie replied, "Yeah, Nick. He wanted me to let you know as soon as you got in. Something's happened."
"Any idea?"
"No."
Carter just stood in the middle of the room and breathed in. "God, it smells great in here."
Marnie and Robert both laughed. Marnie said, "Always smells like cigarettes and cigars to me."
Robert added, "And dust. No matter what we do, it's never clean in here."
I sat down at my desk and put my shoes up. Carter moved them over and sat down on the corner. Looking down at me, he said to the room in general, "It doesn't smell like sweat and old shoes and lye, I'll tell you that."
I nodded. "There's no one in here who's sleeping off a bender and reeks."
Carter winked at me and said, "Yeah."
"I kinda miss the joint."
Carter jumped up and put his hand over my mouth. "Never, ever say that, Nick." I nodded and he moved his hand away.
I took it in my hand and kissed the back of it. "I won't. I promise."
. . .
Mike sat down across from me and smiled. "How's it feel to be sprung?"
Carter, who was sitting next to him and had his big shoes up on my desk right next to mine said, "It's softer than starlight and warmer than the goddam winds of June, that's how it feels."
Everyone in the office laughed. Carter was quoting a song from South Pacific. We'd made the trip back in '49 specifically to see it play on Broadway. We'd worn out the 78s and finally bought the LP back in the spring to play on the hi-fi. I looked at Carter, who was thinking the same thing. He nodded and said, "I'll go get it later today."
I smiled as Mike said, "That jailhouse lingo?"
I shook my head. "He's quoting a song and is gonna go get the LP since the first one is gone."
Mike took a deep breath. "Maybe, maybe not."
I could feel the knot in my stomach forming. "What?"
"Andy's been arrested in Galveston. The son-of-a-bitch sheriff did it himself. Wants you personally to go and fix it."
I shook my head. "I'm never leaving San Francisco again."
Mike leaned in and pushed my shoes out of his way. I pulled them down. He said, "This is serious, Nick. It's basically kidnapping with ransom."
Carter asked, "Does this have anything to do with the deal we made with Fitzsimmons in San Rafael?"
Mike looked confused. "What deal?"
I explained how it worked. As I talked, Mike began to look more and more angry. When I told him I'd given Fitzsimmons the key to the safety deposit box, he stood up and said, "Gotta tell you, that chaps my hide, Nick. I can't believe you fell for that."
Carter was incensed and stood up. "You have no goddam idea what could've happened. Not to mention the two colored men this guy threatened to put in the hole just for socializing with us. Nick managed to make the best deal possible and, for my money, he made a hell of a lot of lemonade out of lemons."
Mike crossed his arms and stared at Carter. "Well, ain't that the point? It isn't your money."
Carter pushed his chair back and ran his hand over his chin.
I stood up quickly and got between the two of them. "Hey, now. As much as I love the idea of you two fighting over my honor, let's remember where we are and what's happened. The trial is over. It all worked out."
Mike was still fuming. He looked down at me. Putting his finger in my chest and poking for emphasis, he said, "No bribes to cops, ever. That's my rule."
I nodded and said, "Mike. Sit down. You weren't there."
He shook his head. "I'm gonna call the District Attorney."
I laughed. "Go ahead. He'll just say, 'Thank you,' very politely and hang up on you. Everyone knows about this guy."
Carter loosened his tie and asked, "What's really going on, Mike?"
I knew what it was. I wondered if Mike would admit it. I could see Robert and Marnie standing next to her desk watching with concern. I made a shooing motion to them. They both nodded and were out in a shot. As Mike stood there, taking deep breaths, I pulled over his chair and stood up on it. Looking down at him, I said, "It's OK, Mike."
His monster-scary face began to soften. Carter walked over and put his hand on Mike's shoulder. Very softly, Carter said, "It's all over, buddy. We're home."
Mike nodded but didn't speak. I put my arms around his neck and pulled him close to my chest. Carter looked at me with his forehead wrinkled in concern. I smiled at him. I whispered, "It really is OK, Mike."
He took a deep breath and pulled back. He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes. "I never told you, Nick."
I nodded. "I know."
The Iniquitous Investigator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 8) Page 16
