A voice answered the phone, "Yeah?"
"Bud?" This was Mike's boyfriend. He also worked on the crew of our yacht, The Flirtatious Captain, which I had picked up in Mexico. He and Mike had met when we'd worked on the case down there. Now they were living together and, from all accounts, were doing well at it.
"Yeah?"
"Nick Williams."
"Oh, man, Nick. How are you, Boss?"
"Fine. Better than whatever the paper says."
"Well, that wouldn't be hard. You're not still in jail are you?"
"No, that's over. Is Mike there?"
"Sure. Hold on." I heard the sound of his hand covering the mouthpiece. After a couple of seconds, I heard Mike.
"You outta jail, yet? Or are you calling for bail?"
"I'm outta jail, Mike. Look, what's this about my license being revoked?"
"That's what they said. Marnie took the call this morning. I called them back. The secretary said they were sending official notice via certified mail but that your trial in Georgia was the reason."
"That's..." I didn't want to ruffle the feathers of anyone who might be listening so I said, "Bull hockey."
"Yeah. And suspiciously fast, doncha think?"
"Yeah. Very fast. I guess they were waiting for an excuse."
Mike asked, "Whatcha gonna do?"
"Well, we have some loose ends around here to tie up. Then we're comin' home. How's everyone else doin'?"
"Fine. Martinelli took care of that arson case by himself. He's doing great, by the way. Andy has disappeared. Or, at least, I haven't been able to find him, and there's no answer at his place."
"What about Dawson?" Dawson Runson was Andy's boyfriend. They'd gotten together after they met in Washington, D.C., when we were all working the case there in June. Dawson had been a police lieutenant for the Metropolitan police but had quit after his captain asked him to start entrapment activity in a local park. They both moved to San Francisco to work for us and were sharing an apartment in one of my buildings.
"He's skipped, too."
I sighed. "I wonder if they're here or on their way here."
"About that, Henry is on his way, too. Or that's what Marnie told me this morning."
"Oh, shit."
"I know. Those two haven't made up yet, have they?" He was referring to Henry and Andy. I wondered how it would work to have them both in Albany at the scene of the crime, so to speak.
"No. And what we don't need... Well, never mind."
"Anything else?" asked Mike.
"No, that's it. Look, Mike. How're things with Bud?"
"Oh, he's fine."
"Just yes or no. Are you in love with him?"
"That's a definite maybe."
"Still lots of action?"
"There seems to be static on the line, Nick. Gotta go." He dropped the receiver onto the hook. I smiled to myself as I pulled down the switch hook a couple of times.
"Operator."
"Long distance."
"One moment."
Two familiar clicks later and I was placing a call to Marnie.
"Hello?"
"Marnie, it's Nick. How ya doin', doll?"
"Oh, Nick! Are you outta jail, yet?"
"They let me out this afternoon. Everything's fine."
"You gotta call from the state licensing board."
"I know. I just talked to Mike. Don't worry about it."
"How's Carter?"
"He's better. The funeral was Saturday. His mother has come around. And, doll, that's all thanks to your mother."
"Well, you know how she is, Nick."
"I do, at that. How did I come out in the papers?"
"The Examiner wants you to have a psychiatric evaluation."
"Do they?"
"Yeah. They've already hired a psychiatrist."
"An exclusive series over the next five days or something like that?"
"Yeah. The Chronicle and the News thought you might have gone too far this time."
"What about the Call-Bulletin?"
"You only rated page two."
"Well, shucks."
"Yeah, I know." She giggled.
"Anything else, doll?"
"No. I'm just glad you're OK."
"Thanks. Give your mother a big kiss from Carter."
"Oh, Nick!" She giggled again.
"Bye, doll."
"Bye, Nick." She put down the phone, and the line went dead.
. . .
As we rode up together in the elevator, I asked Carter, "What did Mr. Waskom have to say?"
"I'll tell you in the morning. Anything pressing I should know before breakfast?"
"Henry, Andy, and Dawson are likely either here or on their way."
"Damn."
"I know. But Andy and Dawson are licensed investigators."
"Only in California."
"I know, but still. Oh, and by the way, Marnie says that the Call-Bulletin only put my story on page two. Can you believe the nerve of them?"
"You're slippin', Nick."
I smiled, feeling a powerful warmth come over me that had nothing to do with newspapers or yellow journalism, and said, "I know. Ain't it grand?"
. . .
Carter unlocked the door to the suite. As we walked in, I said, "You take the left and I'll take the right." We both went through the suite to make sure we were alone.
I went into the bedroom on the right with the two beds. Turning on the light, I looked around. I could see the impression that someone sitting or lying down had left on the bedspread of the bed furthest from the door. Obviously this room hadn't been cleaned since we'd taken the suite.
I walked over to the bed and knelt on the floor. I lifted up the bedspread and looked underneath the bed frame. Right in front of me was a handkerchief. It had probably been dropped and then kicked under the bed. I grabbed it and stood up. Examining it in the light, I could see that it was small and made of lace. There was an initial "E" that someone had embroidered in one corner. This must have been what Eileen had been looking for in her purse after she smudged her lipstick with her gloved hand while on the stand.
It didn't matter now. I dropped the handkerchief in the garbage, turned off the light, and left the room.
We met back in the sitting room. Carter closed the blinds over the three big windows. I turned up the air conditioner to its coldest setting. As I was standing there fiddling with the controls, Carter came up behind me, spun me around, and pushed me against the wall. The rest, as they say, is history.
Chapter 11
New Albany Hotel, Suite 601
Tuesday, July 21, 1953
Around 8 in the morning
As we were getting dressed the next morning, I asked, "What did Mr. Waskom have to say?"
"He wants to meet with us today. I offered to buy lunch, but he suggested we go to his house and let his wife cook. I told him we'd be there around 12:30."
I nodded. "Did he have anything specific?"
"No. Just said it was important."
I thought for a moment. "Do you have any idea who the five men on the floor were when your father was killed?"
"I don't. I guess I should have been askin' around, but other matters were taking up my attention."
"What? You didn't, with all your pent-up rage about your lover being unjustly imprisoned, run around town on Sunday roughing up suspects and trying to make people talk if they knew what was good for them?"
Carter was tying his tie and was, as usual, bent over at the mirror. He laughed. "No. Although if this was some sort of Warner Brothers 'B' reel, I guess that's exactly what I would have been doing. But then you would have had to be the peroxided dame from the wrong side of the tracks."
I laughed. "If that's the way we have to do it, then you have to be played by Dana Andrews."
"Isn't he kinda short for my role?"
"Sure. But that's life in the pictures, kid." I pointed at him, cocked my finger, and shot.
He grabbed his side and said,
"You got me! You dirty rotten copper!" He looked at me for one agonizing moment and then awkwardly collapsed onto the bed.
I walked over to where he lay, spread my legs in a tough guy stance, blew the smoke off my finger, and said, "That'll teach you not to mess with blonde bombshells."
Carter laughed as he pulled me down on top of him.
. . .
Thirty minutes later, we walked down the hall from our suite to the elevator. I pressed the down button and, as we waited, I asked a question that I had been wondering about all night long. "What did Aunt Velma say to you yesterday that made you turn red?"
Carter laughed. The elevator door opened, and we stepped in. He pressed the lobby button. "If you can't be good, Carter, then be good at it."
We were both laughing when the door opened on the fourth floor and there, in broad daylight, stood Andy Anderson, a handsome man in a nondescript way, and Dawson Runson, his thickly built lover who was as wide and muscled as Carter but stood several inches shorter.
After we'd all shaken hands, I asked, "Now, what the hell are you two doing here?"
Dawson said, "You were going to jail, Nick. We had to do something."
I shook my head. Carter looked down at Andy and asked, "Did you know that Henry had the same idea?"
Andy grimaced. "No. If I'd known, I wouldn't have come. Where is he?"
"We don't know. We just know he flew in yesterday."
Dawson shook his head. "Not possible. There's only one Eastern flight from Atlanta that you can connect to from San Francisco. It's a little DC-4. We would have seen him."
I said, "Maybe he flew into Atlanta, rented a car, and drove down?"
The elevator door opened. We all walked across the lobby and over to the restaurant. As we approached the hostess stand, I saw that Henry was there, sipping a glass of orange juice, sitting at a table by himself. Coincidentally, he was sitting next to the table where Captain Morris, his wife Christine, and Captain Riddle were eating their breakfast.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carter grab Andy and beat a hasty retreat. This left Dawson and me to deal with Henry.
We walked into the dining room and made a beeline to Henry's table. As we did, he looked up and smiled at me. His face went dark when he saw Dawson. He knew that meant Andy was here.
I pulled out a chair and sat down. "Henry, how are you?"
He nodded. Dawson was standing behind me. Henry said, "Go ahead. Have a seat, Dawson. I suppose he's here, then."
Dawson said, "Yeah. He's here. Look. Why don't you two talk it out? Give him a chance--"
I put out my hand and interrupted. "First things first. Henry, why are you here?"
"I thought you might need my help," he said with a sour edge to his voice. "I guess I was wrong. I'll turn around and go back as soon as I can pack my stuff."
I said, "Don't. We do need your help. I'll explain later. But, please." I paused. "Don't go." I looked directly into his green eyes. "I'm really glad you came. I appreciate your doing so. I know that it wasn't easy to do."
Henry looked around the room. I noticed that the two captains and Christine were listening to us. They might as well, as far as I was concerned.
"There's nobody left here for me. This is just the town where I grew up. They can burn the place down, for all I care." After a moment of staring at his plate, he seemed to come to. Staring at me, he asked, "How bad was it in jail?"
"All in all, it wasn't bad. The jail supervisor treated me well. When we get home, I'll tell you all about it."
A waitress stopped by and asked about coffee. I ordered some, black. And an orange juice. Dawson did the same. She left us a couple of menus and then went on her way.
"Fine. But how can I help you?"
"We're gonna need to do some canvassing. Carter and I have a meeting at 12:30. We should, hopefully, find out where to begin from there." I didn't want to say too much. We needed to have this conversation in private.
"What do you mean canvassing?"
Dawson answered, "He means we need to go do some interviews, maybe knock on a few doors."
I added, "But, Henry. We need to all be doing this together. I know you're an engineer, but you know the town." I had an idea. As I began to explain, I lowered my voice and leaned across the table. "You and Dawson could go out and do some of the legwork we'll probably need done. I don't know this town, but I assume that most of the Negroes live in one area."
Henry nodded. "Unless that's changed, yeah. They do."
"Well, that's where all the men are that we need to track down. They work at the mill where Carter's father worked. "
Henry nodded. "Smith Brothers."
"That's right."
Henry's mouth pinched and puckered like it did when he was doubtful. It didn't detract from his handsomeness. Carter claimed we looked alike. We did, in a way. But Henry had a scar on his face from a run-in with a German officer in the war. And it made him even more handsome, somehow.
Dawson piped up. "Yeah, Henry. Me and you can go run down some leads together. I can show you how that works."
Henry was still not convinced. Dawson said, "I'd really appreciate you going with me. It would be a big favor. In fact," he stood up. "I'd appreciate it if you would give me a tour of the town this morning, so I can get a lay of the land before we meet back here with Nick and Carter. How's about that?" He put on his hat and nodded towards the door.
I was impressed, once again, with his technique. He could be very persuasive in an understated way.
Henry shrugged, stood up, put on his hat, and followed Dawson out the door.
The waitress came over with coffee and orange juice and asked, "Where'd your friends go, hon?"
I said, "They had a meeting they forgot about." I stood up and turned to the table next door. "Anyone want fresh orange juice? Shame to let it go to waste."
Captain Riddle quickly rose and said, "I'll be on my way. But, take my chair, Mr. Williams." I did just that as he walked off. Although he didn't appear to be as angry as he had been on Thursday, he was definitely abrupt.
The waitress gave me a cup of coffee and a glass of juice. Christine said, "I'll take that other one."
I asked the waitress for a couple of scrambled eggs, some chewy bacon, and buttered white toast. She wrote that down, cleared the other table, and walked back to the kitchen.
Christine asked, "How are you, Mr. Williams?"
"Fine. Jail wasn't as bad as it could have been."
She smiled. "We were just wondering about when you might be leaving?"
"I don't know, yet. We may be here longer than I thought." I glanced at her husband and said, "Of course, I understand if your boss wants his plane back before we're ready to leave."
The captain put down his coffee cup. "My boss, as you call him, is a freak."
Christine frowned. "Hush, Ron."
Captain Morris shook his head. "He is. And, right now, he's tied up with a big something or other that's very hush-hush. He has another crew that he's using at the moment on another plane. He won't touch the one you're renting, now that you've used it, until it's been stripped down to the core and re-carpeted and re-furnished. Your germs might get on him." He took a quick sip of his coffee. "I wouldn't worry about returning it anytime soon." He was grimly smiling as he said that. So, the rumors were true.
Christine said, "He's just particular." She smiled at me. "He's really very nice."
"How many boxes of paper tissue did he use on the last flight, Christine?"
"Ron." Her voice had a warning in it. "I'm sure Mr. Williams isn't interested in such things."
To change the subject, I asked, "What have you two been up to since I last saw you?"
Christine said, "We ran down to Tallahassee on Sunday. It's a nice town. I want to go to the beach down at Panama City. We might do that in a day or two."
I said, "I hear the sand and the water are nice down there." I wasn't really good at small talk.
Christine nodded. "That's what
I've heard, too."
I looked at the captain. "How does Captain Riddle feel about being here, do you think?"
He smiled and took a sip of coffee. "He's found himself a girlfriend like I told you he would." He put the cup down. "Mr. Williams? Can I ask you a personal question?"
I smiled as Christine seemed to tense up.
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Do you think you're going to be able to solve a murder down here when a Negro has been accused of killing a white man?"
"Accused? What do you mean?"
He pulled the newspaper off the seat of the empty fourth chair at the table. "Look at this."
The front page of the Albany Herald screamed:
Colored Man Arrested
In Murder Of W.A. Jones.
Dougherty County Sheriff W.R. Shreve arrested Earl Waskom of Albany for the gruesome murder of Wilson Andrew Jones. Mr. Jones, manager at Smith Bros. Paper Mills, was found dead on Wednesday morning last at the Number 5 Saw, victim of an apparent homicide.
Dougherty County deputies had been called to the scene. The county coroner had ruled the death an accident. However, Sheriff Shreve, following a confidential tip, was given a warrant by Dougherty County Judge D.W. Mackey. The sheriff personally led a group of deputies to the colored man's home and arrested him on suspicion of murder.
There was more after that, but that was all the I needed to see. Below the fold, I found this story:
Perversion Case Dismissed
The case against Mr. Nicholas Williams, of San Francisco, Calif., was thrown out today by Dougherty County Judge A.T. Young. In a pre-trial hearing, the judge ruled that sufficient evidence was not brought to bear against Mr. Williams and ruled that all charges in the case be dropped.
A witness had come forth and reported seeing an unnatural act involving Mr. Williams in the early morning hours of Saturday, July 18, and had brought evidence to Dougherty County Sheriff W.R. Shreve. A warrant was issued by County Judge D.W. Mackey and Mr. Williams was arrested and brought to the county jail on the same day.
In his decision, Judge Young determined that the witness was unreliable. Dougherty County Assistant District Attorney J.B. Underwood had no comment on the ruling.
The Laconic Lumberjack (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 4) Page 10
