"But she'll be there." He meant Mrs. Wilson, of course.
I nodded. "Yes, there is that particular hard place that is not going to move."
This got a smile.
The plane was loud enough that I knew we wouldn't be overheard, so I said, "I love you, Carter."
"I love you, too, Nick. And, I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too." I watched him. His eyes were getting red again. He unbuckled his seat belt, stood up, and walked forward to the lavatory.
I sat there and watched him walk away. I didn't think I'd seen him in this much pain since I'd known him. He wasn't a stoic but he didn't express very complex emotions. And, to be honest, neither did I. Most of our communication happened in bed, and that was fine by me. But this was different. This was the kind of thing that neither of us could kiss away.
This year had been crazy. There was no better word for it. First, Carter had been injured after a run-in with a fire engine. He'd spent the first half of the year hobbling around with a cane. Then, my sister died suddenly. She was murdered, actually. And our father had been involved, which further complicated things.
As that was wrapping up, I had made a scene in public and told off George Hearst about how the San Francisco Examiner was destroying the lives of men by publishing their photographs, names, addresses, and places of employment after being rounded up in unfair police raids targeted at bars known to cater to homosexuals. Through the notoriety, Carter was fired and some of our friends were first suspended and then fired. All of them had been firemen and cops. And it was all because they had been photographed in my company or were just friends.
As if that wasn't enough, my ex-lover, ex-friend, and ex-attorney by the name of Jeffery Klein, Esquire, was involved in the sensational murder of two movie stars and two brothers down in Ensenada, Mexico.
The long run of seeming non-stop action had concluded with a quick trip to Washington, D.C., where I'd been interviewed for Senator Joseph McCarthy's sub-committee and had been asked by another senator to help solve the murder of his son. The whole thing, sitting here up in the air flying across the country at a moment's notice once again, seemed like a big blur.
In the midst of all of that, we picked up some new friends who had also had started working for our new firm called Consolidated Security. For that, at least, I was grateful. And the last six weeks had been quiet, giving us all an opportunity to get this company up and running.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was a case of Carter's past crashing in on top of his head, all at once. When my sister had been murdered and my relationship with Jeffery had gone south, something like that had happened to me, too. It was rough, and would probably get worse, now that he was going back into the middle of the past by flying right into it.
When Mrs. Wilson had first called Carter's mother, a little over a month ago, and had set up her visit to San Francisco, neither of us was happy. But, I knew it was inevitable. They couldn't be separated forever, although Carter had long ago resigned himself to that fact. He and Henry, his best friend growing up and his first lover, had moved to San Francisco back in '39. They left in the dead of night and had not said goodbye to anyone. They drove cross-country in an old Ford that Carter had saved up to buy. Somehow it got them through the desert, to the coast, and, finally, to the city that Carter now called home. It had always been home to me and one of my favorite things about Carter was his enthusiasm for The City that far exceeded my own.
I heard the lavatory door open. Carter emerged and walked towards me. He stood right in front of my seat and looked down. I could still see the red in his eyes, but he looked better. He said, one more time, "I love you."
I just nodded and smiled. He stood there a moment longer, watching me. Then he glanced behind me and said, "Lunch is ready."
I turned around in my seat and saw Christine placing dishes on one of the tables. Both had white linens spread across the table tops and were set with silver and very nice china.
I stood up and, with Carter's hand propelling me forward in the small of my back, had a seat at the table with the chicken. As Carter sat across from me, he grinned for the first time in a while. I always loved his grins.
After lunch, we moved back to our seats. Flying always made me sleepy. The drone of the propellers is where it started. The combination of that sound, being pleasantly full, along with the beer, put me in the perfect mood for a nap. I sat down, pushed the chair back, and promptly fell asleep.
. . .
When I awoke, Carter was talking to Captain Morris. I looked at the man and wondered if he was in the life. I didn't think so. He was just very friendly.
He was saying, "We'll be landing in Houston for fuel. We've had some reports of a string of thunderstorms that are moving inland across the Louisiana coast. We might have to fly north of those. Captain doesn't like flying blind into thunderstorms at night. I don't either."
I stretched and said, "How long will we be in Houston?"
The co-pilot turned to me and said, "Just long enough to top up. Probably thirty minutes at the most. Did you want to deplane there?"
I shook my head. "No. Just curious."
Carter asked, "How is the captain?"
The co-pilot smiled. "Captain Riddle?"
Carter nodded. I could see that his eyes were back to normal.
"He's fine. Why do you ask?"
"He seemed upset when we arrived today."
Captain Morris laughed. "He is. He's got a gal parked in Oakland and was not happy about having to leave her. That's all. But, he'll have a gal in Albany before you can snap your fingers. He's like that."
Carter nodded. "Well, we're sorry to put you both out like this. Albany's my hometown. I haven't been there for fourteen years, so I don't know if it's changed much, but I don't imagine you'll find much excitement."
Captain Morris sat down on the armrest of the seat in front of me and said, "I've been there a couple of times. It isn't exactly a one-horse town but the Baptists keep a close eye on things, and so there aren't a lot of recreational opportunities if you get my drift. But that's probably going to change here soon. The Marines are building a big supply base there. Should be done in a year or so."
Carter said, "That should bring in a lot of jobs. Always a good thing."
I asked, "Have you worked for Mr. Hughes for very long?"
The co-pilot looked at me for a long moment. "Long enough." OK. Message received.
To change the subject, I asked, "Will you be able to find some fun in town while we're there?"
He smiled at me and said, "I'm bringing my fun along." He looked aft with an affectionate fondness. I turned in my seat and saw Christine smiling back.
"Married?" I asked.
"It'll be a year in August."
Carter said, "Congratulations."
"Thank you," replied the co-pilot.
I looked at my watch. It was now a quarter to five Pacific time. I asked, "How long before we arrive in Houston?"
Captain Morris looked at his watch. "About thirty minutes. If you want to know how close we are, just start watching for more and more trees. As they get thicker and the ground gets greener, we're getting closer. The airport is south of downtown, so you'll see that on the left as we come in on approach."
I looked out my window for a moment. The landscape looked a mix of brown and green at the moment. I turned back and said, "Thanks, Captain."
He nodded and smiled as he stood up. "You're welcome, Mr. Williamson." He looked at Carter. "Mr. Jones."
Carter nodded as the man turned and walked back to the cockpit.
I said, "Nice guy."
"He likes you."
"Really?" I asked.
"Sure. He was telling me before you woke up how he'd been following all your doings in the papers since May. He's another one who really dislikes Hearst."
After I had told off George Hearst, and it had been splashed across the papers all over the country along with our pictur
e. Because of that, Carter and I both were often recognized on the street these days. Usually, that was fine. Sometimes it wasn't.
. . .
We landed at the airport in Houston at 7:15 local time. Once we were parked, Captain Riddle came back and said to me, "I've been told by the local fuel company that they want a check today. They won't send an invoice. Will that be a problem?" He wasn't quite as angry-looking as before, but he wasn't friendly.
I shook my head. "Now or later?"
"When we're full up. I'll let you know. Just wanted to let you know now, so it isn't a problem."
I said, "That's fine, Captain. Thanks for the head's up."
He tipped his cap and walked to the door. While we'd been talking, Christine had opened the door to the knock of the person who'd wheeled up the stairs. The heat and humidity of the outside air were obvious in a flash.
Carter said, "We're gonna have to go buy some new clothes first thing. These wool suits are gonna be murder when we get to Albany."
I nodded and walked over to the door to see what there was to see. There were a few trees on the far side of the tarmac but, other than that, nothing much to see other than a massive thunderhead off in the distance.
I walked back over to Carter, who was rolling up his shirt sleeves. "Looks like rain off in the distance."
He walked over to the door himself and looked out. "Yep."
Right then Captain Morris emerged from the cockpit with a grim smile.
"Well, gentlemen, I think we may be grounded for the night."
I asked, "Weather?"
"Yes. There's a line from just east of here all the way through to Gulfport in Mississippi, and it's moving inland tracking east-north-east. We'd have to keep flying north to get around it. I have to confirm with Captain Riddle about this, but I don't think we'll ever get around it. We could end up landing in it once we got to Albany."
I glanced at Carter who had a big smile of relief on his face.
. . .
We ended up at The Shamrock, which was the latest and greatest hotel in town. At the front desk, my Diners' Club card got us into a two-bedroom suite. I asked that Captain and Mrs. Morris be put up in a suite and Captain Riddle in a deluxe room. The plan was to meet in the lobby at 5, grab breakfast on the way to the airport, and be up in the air by sunrise at 6:30.
Once we were in our room, I put in a call to Ralph.
"You handsome man! What happened?"
"We're grounded in Houston."
"Summertime in the south! It's all about bugs and thunderstorms. Better safe than sorry. Sounds like you're already in a room somewhere."
"The Shamrock."
"Perfect. Haven't seen it but I hear it's nice."
"It's green. That's the best way I can put it."
Ralph laughed. "Oh honey, everything's bigger in Texas. That's what they say. I wouldn't know. Not my cup of tea, places that are hot and humid unless it's Hawaii, of course, which I adore and where you and that tall drink of yours should go sometime. I can put you up in the Princess hotel. So pretty in pink. And so much fun there. I think you would simply love it. So, I'll call the New Albany and let them know to expect you tomorrow. You need to be careful there."
This was classic Ralph. The best way to talk to him was to listen. He always had something interesting to say. He would talk and talk and then suddenly stop.
"By the way, can you add a second suite and a deluxe room to the reservation?"
"Sure, thing. Who's it for?"
I gave him the names of the two captains.
"I'll take care of it, toots."
I smiled. "Now what were you saying about being careful?" I asked.
"Look, doll. I know you know the lay of the land. But, please, do not give a single whiff of indiscretion, if you know what I mean, while you're in Georgia. They don't take kindly to our kind. I've had more than one client hauled in front of a judge in Atlanta, a big city, mind you, and, well, it wasn't pretty. I know you're already well-known for all that, just don't give them a reason to lock you up is all I'm saying. They don't always find the key once they do, if you get my drift."
"We'll be good, Ralph."
"Well." There was a long pause. "Don't be too good."
I laughed and said, "Goodbye, Ralph. Thanks for taking care of us."
"You're always welcome. Give my best to your long, tall man. Roxie sends her love." She was his gal pal and the two were almost inseparable. From the way he was talking, it sounded like they were having Sunday afternoon drinks.
I put the receiver back in its cradle and looked over at Carter. He was standing by the window. Our room was near the top of the hotel and the view out the window was of downtown in the distance. The tallest building had a big sign for Gulf Oil on the top.
"Watcha lookin' at?" I asked.
"Looking at that big Gulf sign made me think of the Shell Building and Jeffery."
I didn't want to talk about Jeffery so, in response to Carter, I said, "You need to let them know not to expect us in the morning in Albany."
"Who?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Your mother, I guess."
He turned and looked at me with his forehead creased in worry. "I guess I could call Mrs. Wilson. She set this up, after all."
I nodded. He crossed the room and picked up the phone.
"I need to make a call to San Francisco, please." There was a pause. "Underhill 9102." Another pause. "I'll wait."
I was watching him do all this, thinking about how much I loved him, when he turned to look at me. For some reason, I blushed. And I never blush. I felt like I'd been caught. He just grinned at me, which made me think we might be eating dinner later than we'd planned.
"Mrs. Wilson? This is Carter Jones." He listened for a moment. "We had to stay tonight in Houston because of weather." A pause. "Yes, that's why I'm calling. I don't know--" He nodded and said, "That would be wonderful. Thank you." Another long pause. "Yes, you have a good night, too. Thank you." He put down the receiver and said, "She's going to call."
"What are we supposed to do when we get there tomorrow?"
Carter shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care. Let's go eat dinner. I'm starving."
I was hungry myself so I handed Carter his hat and off we went to The Emerald Room.
. . .
We were seated at a table that was near the large stage and bandstand. Since it was a Sunday night, there weren't many customers. Even the music was low key. A male pianist and a female singer, who sounded a lot like Jo Stafford, serenaded us through dinner. I was glad we had come to eat first. I was feeling very romantic as we sat there, talking about nothing much.
When Carter's plate of frog legs arrived, he was very happy and begin to cut into them with undisguised relish. The dish was a specialty of the house, or so we were told. I had the veal.
After dinner, we went to the bar for a nightcap. I had a brandy, which was rare for me. Carter did the same. The cigarette girl stopped by to check on us. She was sweet on Carter, which wasn't anything unusual. He was the most handsome man in North America, after all, and so tall, too. I bought a packet of Camels. Carter gave her a wink.
When she left, I removed the cellophane from the cigarette package and tipped the first one out. Carter picked up the matches off the table in front of us and lit my cigarette for me. As he did this, I said, "I'm gonna need to get a ring for you."
He blew out the match and tossed it into the ashtray. "Oh, really?"
I nodded and exhaled up into the space above us. "Yeah. And I'm gonna make sure it fits your ring finger." I held up my left hand to show the ring he'd given me in Mexico about six weeks ago. It was too small for my ring finger, so I wore it on my pinkie.
"Why do I need a ring?"
"Because someday, on Mars or wherever, I'm gonna marry you."
"You got that backward, son. I'm gonna marry you. That's the way that's gonna work."
I nodded, stubbed out my cigarette, took a long sip of my brandy, put a twenty on th
e table, and said, "It's time to go."
Carter took one last sip of his brandy and winked at me. I wanted to race him back to the room, but this was The Shamrock. And, even if it was Texas, that just wasn't done.
Chapter 3
Municipal Airport
Albany, Ga.
Friday, July 17, 1953
Just past noon.
The big shiny Constellation didn't have any trouble landing on the grass sod runway of the Albany airport. While Captain Riddle worked out the cost of parking the plane for a week with the manager of what was really an airstrip with a small terminal and not much more, I went in search of a taxi. Since no one else was around to do so, Carter stayed back to help Captain Morris unload the luggage from the hold.
Inside the small terminal building, I noticed that there was a counter for Eastern Airlines, but no one was around. I looked for an information desk but, finding none, went in search of payphones.
Near the front door, I found one. It didn't have a dial, so I picked up the receiver to find out what would happen.
"Operator." The voice had a thick accent.
"I'm at the airport and need a taxi."
"That'll be Bert's. He's closest but I think he's on a run. Hold on and I'll check." The line went silent. I looked around. There was no one to be seen. After about two minutes, the operator returned.
"I called over at Bert's and he's out. But Juanita will send him over when he gets back. You just wait out front and he'll be by in a while."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure."
The line went dead.
. . .
When Bert arrived, all five of us were waiting at the curb in front of the terminal with our pile of luggage. It was hot and humid and there was no breeze to speak of. I was fanning myself with my hat just like I'd seen in the movies. Bert's taxi was a '47 Ford and not nearly big enough for all of us.
He parked at the curb and hopped out. "Y'all the ones who was wantin' a taxi?"
I said, "I'm the one who called. You got a partner? I don't think we'll all fit."
"Where all y'all headin?"
The Laconic Lumberjack (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 4) Page 2
