The Iniquitous Investigator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 8)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I nodded and stood. "Are you Ranger Swopes?"

  "That's right."

  I offered my hand but he didn't shake. I wasn't surprised. I introduced Carter and Dawson. The ranger nodded but didn't say anything. When all the pleasantries were done, he said, "We need to talk. And we need somewhere private."

  I asked, "You had breakfast?"

  "Yes, sir. I'm in a hurry, if you don't mind."

  Carter stood up, as did Dawson. I threw a ten on the table and said, "We have a suite on the seventh floor. We can talk there."

  Ranger Swopes stood a little over six feet. I guessed without boots he was probably 5'10". He was thickly built with dark brown hair, a wide face, and light brown eyes.

  I took a good look at him. He didn't wear a uniform. He was dressed like a businessman with dark trousers, a matching coat, a white shirt, and a dark tie. The boots and hat made it clear he was from Texas. And the small badge on his coat made it clear he was a Texas Ranger.

  He looked at me for a long moment and said, "I'd really rather not."

  Carter crossed his arms and said, "Any particular reason?"

  The ranger pushed back his hat and replied, "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

  I shook my head and said, "This is your town, Ranger. You lead the way."

  He shook his head. "I'm from Houston. But, I'm sure the hotel has a meeting room nearby."

  Carter huffed and said, "I'll go find out."

  As he walked over to the front desk, I said, "Let's go into the lobby and wait there. We're in the way here."

  The waitress was hovering. I said, "We're all done. Keep the change."

  She smiled and said, "Thank you, sir."

  I just nodded and led the ranger and Dawson over to a spot in the lobby near the front desk. Carter met us as we got there. He had a key in his hand. "There's a small room we can use down this hall." We followed him as he led the way.

  Once we were settled at a big conference table that filled the room, I asked, "So, Ranger Swopes, how much do you know?"

  He put his hat on the table and ran his hand over his hair. "Just that your man got picked up by the sheriff and is being held for extortion, as far as anyone knows."

  I nodded. "We were told to bring ten thousand to secure his release."

  "You have that?"

  "And then some."

  He looked at me and tightened his lips. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a package of Camels. He put one in his mouth without offering one to any of us. After patting his pockets, he sheepishly asked, "Any of you fellas have a light?" I pulled out my old beat-up Zippo and handed it to him. I doubted he wanted a queer to light his cigarette and I wasn't feeling particularly charitable. He looked at it for a moment and said, "Never seen one bent like this before."

  I nodded. "Me, neither. Had it since '40 and it works just fine."

  He lit his cigarette with it and handed it back to me. "Thanks." He took in a drag and exhaled upwards. After a long moment, he said, "Here's what we'd like you to do. We want you to go in with a wire."

  Carter crossed his arms and said, "No. Absolutely not."

  The ranger and I both turned in his direction. Dawson said, "It's not like in the movies, Carter. Nick's probably worn one before."

  I nodded. "Yeah. It's not a big deal."

  Carter shook his head. "I don't care. What if you get caught with it? They'll throw you in the slammer with Andy. Then what?"

  "Then you'll go to the bank and get more cash. It's no big deal, Chief. I promise."

  Carter sucked in his breath. "That's what you said last time."

  That hurt. Like a kick in the gut. He was right, of course. That Sunday before the preliminary hearing, we'd been on The Flirtatious Captain and I'd promised him then that it would be fine. And it wasn't. But this was different.

  "Look. This is a known quantity. That other thing was out of left field. Nobody could've predicted that would happen."

  Ranger Swopes was watching all of this unfold with the face of a man at the zoo gawking at the monkeys. He was really pissing me off.

  Carter looked at Dawson, who nodded encouragingly. "I wouldn't ask Nick to do this for Andy if I didn't think it would work. Andy would agree with me on this. We've all worn wires."

  Swopes looked across the table at Dawson. "What's your background?"

  "Homicide detective for the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police."

  "Huh. Why'd you get into the P.I. racket?"

  I watched Dawson grin. "Cause they wanted me to entrap homosexuals and, being one myself, I didn't care to."

  Swopes swallowed. "All y'all perverts?"

  "What we are, Ranger Swopes, is willing to help you gather evidence for the grand jury or whatever this is about." That was what Carter liked to call my "high-hat tone." But I figured he would appreciate it in this instance.

  The ranger nodded. "Fair enough."

  I looked at Carter. "OK?"

  He relaxed. "Yeah. It's fine, Boss. You do what you need to do."

  I turned to the ranger and asked, "What's the plan?"

  "It's simple. See if you can get the sheriff to admit that you're giving him a bribe."

  Dawson snorted. "Isn't this the same guy who claims he hasn't raided any of the gamblin' halls because they're all private clubs and he isn't a member?"

  Swopes nodded. "Sure. But we'll try anything."

  Carter crossed his arms and looked at me. "Simple? Right."

  I just shrugged.

  . . .

  We ended up in our suite after all. Swopes had deputized a P.I. in Houston by the name of Charlie Wallace, who met us in the coffee shop about twenty minutes after Swopes called him from the lobby.

  Once we were in the suite, Carter and Dawson closed all the drapes in the sitting room. I stripped down to my waist and let Wallace fit me with a Minifon box strapped under my left arm. Dawson, who'd worked with that device before, was impressed with the improvements that Wallace had made.

  "So, this wire is thinner. It plugs in here to the side of the watch." Wallace handed it to me and I put it on my left wrist.

  Dawson held the wire up and said, "Much less obvious."

  Wallace nodded. "Yeah. And we run it under the arm." He took some medical tape out of his kit and cut off a couple of pieces. "I tape it below the elbow and above the elbow." He did that as he kept talking. "Leave a little here for flexibility. Mr. Williams will forget it's there because it becomes part of his arm."

  Wallace was a thin man of 40 or so. He had yellow teeth, slicked back thinning brown hair, and smelled of onions. He was shorter than Dawson by a couple of inches, standing at 5'6" or so. I had my arm out straight as he wrapped the straps around my chest that held the device in place. He kept ducking under my arm as he pulled everything tight.

  Carter was leaning against the wall next to the bedroom looking very amused by it all. I rolled my eyes at him.

  Wallace said, "The box records and transmits. I installed the transmitter myself." He explained how the transmitter worked and that he and Swopes would be listening in a car near the sheriff's office. Dawson was completely captivated and was peppering Wallace with all sorts of questions. Finally, it was all set up and I began to put my clothes back on.

  Swopes said, "Call the sheriff and tell him you're coming over."

  "We don't have a car."

  Carter nodded. "Where's that Whitey Johnson anyway? Wasn't he supposed to come by this morning?"

  Wallace smacked his forehead and asked, "That fella is involved in all this?"

  I nodded. "Why?"

  Swopes grinned. "Son, you been sold out. He's an operative for the mob machine. And he's in the sheriff's back pocket."

  "He's been working for us for a week or so."

  Swopes crossed his arms. "Doing what?"

  "Helping us find a friend from San Francisco who came here suddenly under suspicious circumstances."

  "Another queer?"

  Wallace snickered at that
.

  I tightened my jaw and said, "No. A woman by the name of Mildred Fontaine."

  "Any relation to Johnny Fontaine? Big guy who works at the Rio Grande Club?"

  I nodded. "He's her husband."

  Swopes grinned like a goofball. "You dumbass cocksuckers are up to your necks in dirty business. Don't let Johnny Fontaine find out you're here and messing around with his property. He'll cut you up in a thousand little pieces."

  I looked at the ranger and took a deep breath. I could see Carter rubbing his jaw with his hand. Part of me wanted to just let him do something but Dawson walked over to Carter, turned, and stood in front of him. Dawson crossed his arms. The two had a Mutt and Jeff look to them that was so ridiculous that I almost laughed in spite of myself.

  After a tense moment, I said, "Thank you, Ranger. We'll keep that in mind. Now, let's get to work."

  . . .

  Before we left the hotel, I called Captain Morris and asked if he could do two favors for us. The first was to get the luggage from our room and Dawson's and take it with them to the airport. The second was to get to the plane and be ready to take off. It was obvious, we needed to get Andy, get Mildred, and get out of town. When I called the captain, it was half past ten. I told him to be ready to take off at noon. I hoped we would be able to do all that and be gone in just ninety minutes.

  Swopes and Wallace left in the ranger's car. Dawson stopped by Captain Morris' room to hand off the room keys and then headed out to the front of the hotel to get a taxi. Meanwhile Carter and I stopped at the front desk to pay up. I'd called down ahead to have the bill ready. Fortunately, it was ready and I wrote them a check and that was that.

  Once we walked out into the humid air of the late morning, I saw that Dawson was talking to Whitey, who was standing next to his Hudson. It was even more polished than it had looked in the nighttime. I had to admit it was a pretty car.

  Dawson cut his eyes to me for a short moment and said, "So, can you give us a lift to the sheriff's office?"

  Whitey asked, "You got the goods?"

  I nodded without speaking. It was in my inner coat pocket in an envelope.

  Whitey grinned and said, "Well, get on in. Let's go."

  . . .

  Once we were in front of the sheriff's office, Dawson said to Whitey, "Is there a drugstore somewhere nearby? I get these splitting headaches and I'm all out of the drug I use. If I could just get to a drugstore, they can make it up for me. It'll only take five minutes. I can feel one coming on."

  I got out of the car with Carter. Through the window, I added, "Yeah. It'd be a big favor for all of us. He really gets in a bad way otherwise. I'll throw in an extra hundred for it."

  Whitey grinned and said, "Sure. You got it."

  We had barely gotten out of the car when the Hudson peeled out on the pavement. I nodded at an alley that ran along the side of the sheriff's office. We walked over there and ducked behind a stack of barrels.

  Carter said, "I swear, Dawson can sell ice to Eskimos."

  I nodded and grinned. "I was glad he got rid of that guy. I can't wait to get the hell out of here." Using my right hand, I reached under my left arm and pressed the button that started the recorder. I assumed it also started the transmitter. Since it was only transmitting and not receiving, I had no way to know. We walked around the side of the building, through the front door, and up to the lobby desk. A deputy looked up. "Help you fellas?"

  "Sheriff Biaggne is expecting me." Swopes had tried to teach me how to pronounce the man's name. I was sure I didn't get it right.

  "You Williams?"

  I nodded.

  "Through there." He pointed to a door clearly marked "Sheriff Frank L. Biaggne." There was a big window next to the door with blinds covering them.

  I walked in that direction with Carter following me. The deputy said, "Williams only."

  Carter turned and sat down on one of the hard-back chairs along the wall.

  I walked up to the door and knocked. "Come in," was the reply.

  I opened the door. Andy was sitting in a chair in front of the desk. He turned and smiled. After being a "guest" of the county for a couple of nights, he didn't look any worse for the wear, which I was glad to see.

  The man behind the desk was grinning at me. He had a round face, dark eyes, and wore a Stetson straw hat. He nodded. "Mr. Williams?"

  I nodded. "Sheriff. I have the money you asked for." I pulled the envelope out and handed it to him.

  "That's fine. I always appreciate donations to help us repair the county jail. Saves the taxpayers on their bills."

  He opened it and examined the contents. There was a single stack of one hundred C notes bound in a wrapper marked "Bank of America."

  He opened a desk drawer and dropped the envelope inside. He closed the drawer with a resounding thud.

  Andy stood up. The sheriff looked at us both and grinned. Tipping his hat to me, he smiled and said, "Now, you boys be careful out there."

  I didn't move. As much as I wanted to just get the hell out, I wanted to see if I could get anything on this guy that could be used on him before a grand jury. "That was mighty cheap."

  I heard Andy suck in his breath. The sheriff's smile faded and his eyes narrowed. "I'm not entirely sure I know what you mean."

  I looked at my fingernails and said, "Well, I just had to pay several times more than that amount in California."

  The sheriff looked at me suspiciously. "I still have no idea what you mean."

  I stared him down for a long moment before giving up. "Thanks, Sheriff."

  With that, Andy and I walked out into the lobby. Carter stood up when he saw us. He had a question on his face. I nodded and we walked out into the bright daylight.

  Dawson was standing on the sidewalk when we emerged. His face lit up when he saw Andy. They shook hands vigorously and grinned at each other. Whitey was nowhere to be seen.

  "What now?" asked Carter.

  With my back to the sheriff's office, I unplugged the wire that connected the watch to the recording device. "We get a taxi and go get Mildred. Where's Whitey?"

  Dawson smiled. "I think I spooked him."

  Right then, a taxi drove by. Carter did his hog-calling whistle and the car stopped. We piled in. I asked the driver, "You know where the Rio Grande Club is?"

  "Of course, Mister. But they ain't open until 5."

  "Doesn't matter. That's where we going. The faster, the better."

  He put his car into gear and peeled out. As we drove, I said, "We need you to pull up across the street from there. Two of us are going in and we'll be back with my cousin. Her husband beats her and we're here to get her outta that mess."

  The driver grinned. "I get you, Mister. Then where to?"

  "Airport."

  "But the next Braniff flight don't leave until 7 tonight."

  "That's fine. We have our own plane. And we'll make all of this worth your while."

  "Good. I could sure use it." He was chewing gum and started smacking in anticipation.

  I turned and looked at Dawson over the seat. He was sitting as close to Andy as possible without sitting in the man's lap. "What'd you say to him?"

  He looked at the back of the driver and said, "Tell you later." Whatever it was, Dawson was awfully proud of himself. I was looking forward to hearing all about it.

  About ten minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of Mildred's house. "This OK?"

  I nodded. "Perfect."

  Carter and I leaped out of the car. I bounded up the steps and began to bang on the front door. Carter stepped in front of me and pushed me back a couple of steps. After a moment, I could hear someone opening the front door. Through the screen, I could see Mildred. She didn't look happy.

  I stepped around Carter and pulled on the screen door. It was locked from the inside, "Come on, Mildred. We have to go now."

  "What?" Lowering her voice, she said, "Shorty's here. He's asleep in the next room."

  Carter said, "Grab your pu
rse and let's go. This is a setup."

  I looked around and could see Whitey's car coming down the street. He was about a block away.

  "Mildred. That private dick is connected to the mob. We have to go. Now."

  The light went on over her head. She unlatched the door and said, "OK. Gimme a sec, hon." With that, she hot-footed her way down the hall to the kitchen. I watched Whitey park his car on the far side of the street and get out. He was grinning and walking across the street. And he was obviously fingering a gun in his pocket.

  I whispered, "Whitey's got a gun."

  Carter looked over his shoulder and said, "Wadda we do?"

  "Play it cool."

  We stood there as he stepped up on the porch. "Mr. Williams. Going somewhere?"

  "San Francisco."

  "Not yet. You and me is gonna make a trip to the City National Bank and you're gonna make a little withdrawal of ten grand. For services rendered."

  I nodded. "Fine."

  Right then, I heard a deep voice bellowing inside the house. "Who the hell is out there?"

  Whitey said, "Damn," and got off the porch as quickly as I'd ever seen anyone move. He ran across the street, jumped into his car, started the engine, and was gone. In that time, I could hear more swearing from inside the house. Peering through the screen, I saw Mildred start running down the hallway towards us. As she did, a large fist appeared out of nowhere and slammed her against the wall. She slumped down to the floor and didn't move.

  Carter was down the hallway in a flash. I was right behind him and could hear footsteps behind me that I guessed were Dawson's. Right then, a monster of a man walked into the hallway. He had to be nearly seven feet tall. He was wearing a very tight undershirt that barely fit and a pair of BVDs. There was nothing handsome about this man and, unlike Carter, his muscles were long and lean.

  "Who the hell are you?" he growled.

  Carter replied, "Friends of Mildred's."

  The man laughed. It was ugly. "That bitch don't have friends. Not in this town."

  As he was talking, I had ducked behind Carter and saw that Mildred was passed out. I felt under her neck. She still had a pulse. I quickly put my hand behind her head. Fortunately there was no blood. I figured she'd just been stunned.