The Laconic Lumberjack (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 4)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  John walked in the door about a minute after I put down the lobby phone. I motioned to him to follow me into the bar, and he did. As I approached the table, I said, "Let's get packed and get outta here."

  Everyone stood up. I said to Carter, "I'll take care of all the bills while you pack."

  John asked Carter, "Need help?"

  "No. Why don't you fill Nick in on what you found out and he can tell you about what's happened while I'm upstairs."

  John nodded. While the others headed to the elevator, he followed me to the bar where I dropped a twenty and said, "Thanks."

  Our waitress put down her book and saw the bill. "Sure thing. Have a good night."

  We walked over to the empty desk. I rang the bell and the kid came from the back office. "Yes, sir?"

  When I explained that I needed to pay the bills for several rooms, he looked panicked. "I don't know how to do any of that. I'm gonna to have to call my manager."

  As he started to pick up the phone, I said, "Let me make it easy for you. Tell him Nick Williams is checking out. If he can give you a rough estimate of how much the bill might be, I'll give you a check that covers that. He can send me a check for the difference, once he's done the accounting. Understand that?"

  The young man shook his head. "Not really."

  I said, "Fine. Get him on the phone and I'll explain it."

  "Are you sure that's OK?"

  I nodded. "I'm in a big hurry and this will be the fastest way."

  He held the phone for a moment before dialing the number.

  While we waited, I asked John, "What'd you find out?"

  "They're in an uproar at the county jail." He was whispering. "It was murder, nothing less. No one knows who did it, but the money is on the one they call Deputy Dawg."

  "What's that mean?"

  "He's a big guy. Crazy for the Georgia Bulldogs. He's also a little nuts. Sheriff uses him as his muscle when he needs someone like that."

  "Gotcha."

  "There's more. They are after you, in particular. Word is that they want you out of town yesterday. I called the police chief, who's no fan of the sheriff, and gave him the scoop. He hadn't even heard about Waskom yet."

  By this time, the young man was holding out the phone to me. After talking to the manager, we decided I would write a check for a thousand bucks and that he would hold that against an invoice he would be sending special delivery. I told him to include wiring instructions and that Marnie would get him the cash as soon as possible. He was very accommodating and sounded relieved that we were leaving.

  As I handed the phone back to the young man, Andy and Dawson got off the elevator with their luggage and sat down in the lobby. I started to go get the car but remembered that Carter had the keys.

  Henry and Carter were next. As they came off the elevator, I heard Carter saying, "Give him a chance. For me." Henry didn't reply.

  Carter walked over to me and said, "Ronnie. We forgot about Ronnie."

  I said, "Call him and see if he'll come with us."

  He walked over to one of the payphones and dropped a dime. After five minutes, he walked back over, shaking his head. "No dice. He won't leave his mother."

  I replied, "I don't blame him. What about yours?"

  "I'm gonna ask John to go over there as soon as we leave and explain everything."

  I nodded. "Good."

  . . .

  Our little parade consisted of Carter and me in our Buick with Andy in the backseat. Dawson rode with Henry in his rental Ford that he'd picked up in Atlanta. John followed them in his police cruiser, which he'd picked up on his way to the hotel.

  We arrived at the airport to find it looking deserted. The gate to the field was open. We drove over to where the silver Constellation was parked so we could unload the luggage. The interior lights were on, the door was open, and a set of stairs was wheeled up to the side of the plane.

  John collected the keys to Captain Riddle's car along with Captain Morris'. Henry and Carter took our cars back out to the parking lot in front of the airport to leave them there.

  There was a light rain falling by the time we were all loaded up. Captain Morris asked John to wheel the stairs away from the plane after the door was closed. The last thing John said was that he would wait until we were in the air before he left, just in case.

  We piled into the plane and everyone got buckled in. Captain Riddle, who was looking almost happy, explained that we had enough fuel to get to Atlanta. We would stop there for the night and leave in the morning. I said that was fine by me.

  As we sat there while each of the four big engines came to life, I asked Carter, "Do you feel like we're running away?"

  He shook his head. "We're doing the best we can do considering everything."

  Dawson, who was in the seat in front of me, turned around and said, "There was no good choice here."

  I nodded.

  Just then, the plane began to move. We taxied over to the runway. Once we were in place, I heard the engines rev up. We began to move forward. As we did, I could hear the rain beating against the windows of the plane.

  The plane gained momentum and, for a moment, it seemed like we were going to lift off. But, in a very jerky and sudden change in forward motion, we didn't. I could feel a strong sense of anxiety as I realized we were actually slowing down.

  After a moment, we came to a stop. No one said anything. The plane turned to the right, we proceeded slowly across the field, and we came to a stop back where we'd started. The whole thing took less than five minutes.

  Chapter 15

  Belle Terre

  Wednesday, July 22, 1953

  Sometime after dawn

  When I woke up, the sun was coming through the window. Instead of heavy curtains, there were thin sheers and the morning light was bright.

  I felt Carter's arm tighten around me. He made a satisfied sound and kissed me on the neck. "Mornin'."

  "Morning, Chief. How'd you sleep?"

  "All things considered, pretty well. How 'bout you, Boss?"

  "Fine. Tonight, though--"

  Carter reached his hand up and covered my mouth. "Shh..."

  I heard Henry say, "I'm not a delicate flower, you know."

  We all laughed at that.

  . . .

  We were in a bedroom on the second floor of Belle Terre, Nick Smith's little mansion out in the country. After we hadn't been able to take off, John had suggested we move our base of operations somewhere not easy to find and Nick was perfectly accommodating. And, although there were five bedrooms, they were all full up. One of them was occupied by Nick and Jerry, his boyfriend. Captain Riddle was in another. Captain Morris and his wife Christine had a third. Dawson and Andy were in a fourth. And that left the fifth room for Carter and me and Henry. I was waiting for the right time to needle Carter about a latent fantasy of his finally coming true.

  Meanwhile, I could smell the aroma of coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. There was a knock on the door. Henry said, "Yes?"

  It was Christine. "We're making breakfast downstairs. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."

  Carter replied, "Thank you!"

  . . .

  We were all seated around the dining table as Christine and Nick brought in platters of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fried hash brown potatoes, sliced ham, and a big stack of biscuits along with butter and honey. I glanced around the table and noticed how happy everyone looked. Maybe it was the sunshine. Maybe it was the cooler temperature after the rain of the night before. Or maybe it was the relief of no longer needing to watch our backs. I knew that was how I was feeling.

  As soon as the food was ready, and without explanation, Captain Riddle stood up, coffee cup in hand, and walked into the kitchen. I looked over at Captain Morris who caught my eye, pursed his lips slightly, and shook his head.

  For some reason, I decided I'd had enough of whatever it was. So, I walked into the kitchen to see if I could find the captain.


  He'd walked out the back door, which was partially open. I stepped out back and surveyed the humongous spread in the bright morning light. The house was on a hill, and a perfectly manicured lawn sloped gently down to a river. Tall, leafy sycamores and billowy weeping willows lined either side of the river. To say it was picturesque would be an understatement.

  The captain was seated on a bench a few feet from the door drinking his coffee and pondering the landscape. I walked towards him and announced myself. "Captain Riddle. Good morning."

  Without turning, he replied, "Good morning, Mr. Williams."

  "Do you mind if I have a seat?"

  "Not at all." He obviously did but was too smart to say otherwise.

  I sat and looked out. "Like something out of a movie, isn't it?"

  He stood up.

  "Captain?"

  He turned and looked down at me, eyes blazing. "Yes?"

  "What kinda stick do you have up your ass?"

  He snorted but his face relaxed a bit.

  "Well, sir, if you'll pardon me for saying so, I'm wondering how exactly I got booked for this all-faggot cruise." He looked at me as if he was daring me to punch him.

  I nodded. "I understand. You're a ladies' man and there ain't no ladies around here to keep you company." I tossed this off as if he'd said something much less rude.

  "No, sir. That's not the point." His voice was low and steady.

  "Then what is the point?"

  "What are we doing here?"

  I nodded again. "That's a fair question. You know why we're here in the short term. Anyone associated with me is in trouble in Albany. Or will be at some point."

  The captain turned away and looked back down the hill again.

  "I'm sorry you were forced to do this by Mr. Hughes."

  He nodded. "You know that sumbitch is crazy, right?"

  "I've heard."

  "Well, as soon as I get back to L.A., I'm giving my notice. Cavorting with pansies and nearly dying while trying to take off from a muddy briar patch in the rain damn well isn't in my contract."

  I stood up, walked up to him, and asked, "Captain?"

  He turned and looked at me. "Yeah?"

  I pulled back my right arm, just like Mike had taught me to do many years ago, and punched him low and to the side, just below his left kidney where it hurts the most and leaves a nasty bruise. His face registered shock and surprise. He doubled over, dropping his coffee cup on the wet morning grass. I watched as it tumbled down the hill for a yard or so before coming to a stop.

  . . .

  The captain had a point. After I helped him into the house and turned him over to Christine, I sat back down at the table and had some cold eggs, a couple of pieces of ham, and a biscuit with butter and honey. I also started thinking about what to do next.

  Everyone else was done but sat there chatting while I ate. Carter was across the table from me and, after the glimmer of a plan began to form in my mind, I looked up at him. He smiled at me and watched me for a moment. I smiled back.

  Right then, Dawson asked, "So what's the plan, Nick?" He paused and added Carter's nickname for me to make sure he was clear as to which Nick he was referring. "Boss."

  There were a few snickers at his use of that word. I wiped my mouth with a lace napkin that probably predated the Civil War and said, "Everyone goes home today except Carter and me."

  Several people spoke at once to argue and disagree. Carter did his hog-calling whistle, which was really loud in the small space of the dining room. The room became instantly silent.

  "Nick's right."

  Dawson said, "No. We want to help you."

  I shook my head. "It's too dangerous. Captain Morris and Christine are the only people at this table who couldn't be picked up by the sheriff today. We're all guilty of sodomy."

  Henry said, in a pitiful voice, "Not me."

  Dawson, who was sitting between him and Andy, leaned over and put his thick arm around Henry's shoulders.

  Andy said, "But we're not in Dougherty County right now."

  Carter replied, "But that's where all the evidence is."

  Dawson snorted. "What evidence?"

  I nodded. "Exactly."

  Henry slapped his forehead and said, "Oh, I forgot."

  Carter looked over and asked, "What?"

  "Ronnie Thompson told me, when he was warning me about the sheriff, that he was sure he heard another man come into the shed when they were all out getting water."

  I tried not to laugh when Dawson rolled his eyes and said, "Why didn't you tell me that part, Henry?" His hand was still around Henry's shoulders.

  Henry shook loose and stood up. "I'm sorry, Dawson. I forgot all about it." He walked over to the window that faced the front lawn. "I'm not a cop or a private eye. I'm no good at this kinda stuff." He sighed deeply. "Nick's right. We should go home." Then he added, in a whisper, "Or maybe just me."

  Andy stood up from the table, walked over next to him, not too close, and faced the window. It was an interrogation style I recognized. Mimic the suspect's body posture and it helps him start to trust you.

  Andy said, "You did just fine, Henry. Not everyone is as conscientious a cop as Dawson."

  Henry didn't say anything. We were all very quiet as Andy gently put his hand on the other man's shoulder. Henry sighed deeply and said, "Thanks." As far as I was concerned, that was nothing short of a miracle.

  . . .

  Jerry and I made lunch for everyone. It wasn't anything fancy. We built Dagwood sandwiches piled high with roast beef, sliced turkey breast, salami, and other bits we could round up. After breakfast, the other Nick and Christine had driven into Thomasville, about twenty miles south, to go to the Piggly Wiggly and bring back supplies. I gave Nick a telegram to send to Marnie so she would know I wasn't dead or missing.

  The weather was beautiful. The rain had cooled things off and the humidity was much lower. Nick suggested we have a picnic lunch out on the big lawn. Jerry brought out a bunch of blankets, spread them out, and we lazed around on the grass, eating and talking about nothing much.

  Captain Riddle ate his sandwich in the kitchen along with his co-pilot. That was fine by me.

  After we had eaten, Dawson and Andy walked down the hill to put their feet in the river. Henry sat there watching them walk down and, for whatever reason, stood up and went to join them.

  Christine and Jerry began to pick up all the plates and wrappers. Carter stood up and said, "You two sit down. I'll take care of this."

  Christine said, "I'm not good at watching other people, particularly men, clean up after me. So, let me help you."

  Carter laughed. "Feel free."

  While they walked into the house with arms full of dishes, Jerry came over and sat down next to me.

  "Seems to me you need a disguise."

  I was sitting in a pleasant reverie and didn't follow what he was saying at first. I turned to look at him, confused.

  Jerry said, "I've been thinking."

  The other Nick, who had been stretched out on his back looking at the sky, stood up and interjected, "Now, Jerry. You know how you get when you start thinkin'. I wouldn't want you to get feverish." Nick laughed and walked up the hill to the house.

  "Don't mind him."

  I laughed and shook my head. "Why a disguise?"

  "Well, not so much a disguise but, if you're goin' back into Albany, you need to show up in a way that no one expects."

  I was still confused. "Are you saying I should parachute in or something?"

  Jerry laughed. "Now, I'm sure no one would expect that, but it would draw a little too much attention, doncha think?"

  I nodded and smiled.

  "No, what I mean is that you can borrow our farm truck. Maybe go down to Thomasville today and get some farmin' duds and get you a farmer's hat. You know. Try to look like you're a local. You strut around town in your usual duds and everyone knows who you are."

  I nodded while thinking about what exactly we would do back in
Albany. I wasn't sure how to proceed other than to get everyone else home.

  Jerry continued, "We go to Thomasville and get you and Carter set up. No one'll know y'all down there. We'll put your new Buick in the barn since we don't have a garage. That thing is a real giveaway, too. Everyone for miles around knows about you buying that thing from George Johnson. He's been talkin' about you to anyone who'll listen. He just loves to tell everyone how he made an extra thousand off that fairy city slicker."

  I nodded.

  "And I know you didn't ask my advice, but you're right about two things."

  "What two things?" I asked.

  "First, everyone else in your gang needs to go home. They're too well known in town." He stretched out and put his arms under his head and looked up at the sky.

  "What's the second thing?"

  "Oh, that Captain Riddle is a mess, honey."

  I laughed. "Well, he'll think twice about who he calls a faggot next time."

  "Was that what it was?"

  "Yeah. I tried to take the high road but the second time he did it, I'd had enough."

  "Well, good for you. Carter did say you have a mean right hook. Said you used it on him, once."

  "Once. Never again."

  "Good for you. You lovebirds are sweet."

  I laughed. "Well, I'm the luckiest man alive. How about you and your Nick?"

  Jerry sighed. "We have our good days and our bad days."

  "Every couple has trouble now and then."

  "Our problem is we like each other, but we're very different people. That's why, in about two months, I'll be leaving for Rio. I rent an apartment on Copacabana beach from December until before carnaval starts."

  "What'll Nick do?"

  "Oh, he goes to Miami for the season. He has his own apartment at the beach that he lives in during the winter. This year he's coming to Rio for Christmas for a month or so." He paused. "You and Carter should come, too. You'd like it."

  I had no idea where Rio was, what it looked like, or why I would like it, so I didn't say anything. Instead, I asked, "How did you two meet?"