On the phone, O'Reilly chuckled. "It's a quarter past 11."
"Fine. Would you ask Marnie to get us a table at the Old Poodle Dog for a quarter til noon? Neither Carter nor myself had breakfast and we've both worked up quite an appetite, if you know what I mean." I watched as Carter pulled on his BVDs and an undershirt.
"Would you mind if I brought me Johnny?"
"Of course, not. Looking forward to meeting the lad." I couldn't help but add that last word as Carter pulled out a pair of black socks and two pairs of garters.
O'Reilly chuckled. "'The lad' you say? Well, I'll let you decide for yourself if that's the case. Shall we meet you at the restaurant?"
"That'll be fine, Captain." I put down the receiver. Carter was standing next to me in his BVDs and an undershirt and holding the garters out. I took a pair, knelt down, wrapped one around the top of his hairy right calf, and fastened it together tightly. I repeated the same for his left leg. Once that was done, I sat on the side of the bed while he did the same for me.
As he was doing so, he asked, "Lunch with O'Reilly?"
I nodded as he stood up and kissed me on the forehead. "Yep."
Carter walked over to the wardrobe and brought out a white shirt for himself and one for me. I walked over to the bureau and grabbed a pair of BVDs, a pair of brown socks, and an undershirt. I put the BVDs and undershirt on and then sat down on the sofa next to Carter. We both pulled on and attached our socks as if we were part of a synchronized dressing team.
"We're gonna get to meet the new boyfriend." I said that as I was pulling on my shirt. Walking over to where we kept the pile of cufflinks, I asked, "Sapphire, emerald, or plain?"
"Plain silver. What's his name?"
I grabbed that pair and walked over to where Carter stood. He held out his arms so I could fasten his cufflinks. The ones he picked were a pair he'd bought for me a long time ago. They were in the shape of an octagon. Once that was done, I dropped the emerald pair in his hand and stuck out my arms. As Carter fastened them on for me, I replied, "Johnny. I called him a lad—"
"I heard." His dry voice got my attention. I looked up as he grinned wryly at me. "Is your high-hat tone becoming British?"
"No," I laughed, "But O'Reilly's accent has become more Irish than I ever remember."
Carter nodded as he adjusted my shirt, pulling the shoulders straight. He walked over to the bureau and pulled out one of his dark navy suits. "I noticed that on Sunday night. Emeralds and brown socks must mean your light brown tweed."
I replied, "You got it, bucko," as he handed them over to me. I pulled on my trousers and buttoned them up. "Is it old-fashioned that we both got button-up trousers the last time we got new clothes?"
Carter had just finished buttoning his own pair of trousers and was tucking in his shirt in that way that he had that made sure it barely moved. I was always a little in awe of his ability to do that. He replied, "Not really. Zippers just don't feel right, son." He walked over to the bureau and began to rub some pomade on his palms before applying it to his sandy blond hair.
I nodded. "Yep. 'They loved chewy bacon and button-up trousers.' That's what I want on our tombstone."
Carter laughed and handed me the tin of pomade as I walked up. Once my hair was taken care of, I looked through the tie rack and found the green tie with a very light plaid pattern on it. Tying ties was something I did lightning fast. I had mine done before Carter could even choose his.
"Get the red one. But not the dark one, the lighter one with the pale blue stripes. That's the one you always wear with the plain silver cuffs."
"You're right." He laughed to himself. "When you're right, Nick, you're right."
I turned and helped him with his tie. He always tilted his head back when I did that. I said, "Looks like you missed a spot."
He tilted his head back further and ran his left middle finger over his throat looking for the patch of stubble. "Really?"
"Sure," I said. I pushed his hand out of the way and went in for the kill. Before I could get him under his Adam's apple, the only place he was ticklish, he got me under my left arm with his right hand.
I laughed and jumped back. "Damn, you, Carter Jones!"
He shook his head and looked down at me with a big grin. "Don't try to out-tickle the tickler."
"It sounds so filthy when you say that."
He nodded, took one step forward, and kissed me on the lips. "I know. That's why I say it."
Chapter 8
Ritz Old Poodle Dog Restaurant
65 Post Street
Tuesday, February 8, 1955
Ten minutes before noon
When we arrived, O'Reilly was standing at the bar next to a dark-haired man who was laughing at something the Captain was telling him.
Carter walked over to meet them while I stopped to talk with the maitre d'.
"Table for Williams."
He smiled and nodded. "Good morning, Mr. Williams. Mrs. LeBeau called. Unfortunately, it may be a few more minutes." Turning to the bar, he nodded in O'Reilly's direction. "I will let you know when your table is ready."
I handed the man a folded twenty and said, "Thanks."
As I walked up, I heard O'Reilly say, "Yes, and her name was Gloria." His brogue was as thick as I'd ever heard it.
The other man laughed and punched the Captain lightly on the arm. "Danny, you know it was always Jerry. It was when he was born, in any event. And anyone who saw him in a dress would've agreed. He couldn't even bother to shave."
They both giggled and then began to laugh.
I looked up at Carter who grinned and shrugged.
Once they'd recovered, I said, "Good morning, Captain." He didn't seem to be to broken up by his friend's death. He was almost giddy. I wondered if it was the lack of sleep.
He giggled one more time and then said, "Mornin' Mr. Williams. Mr. Jones. May I—"
The other man turned and, in a mock-outrage voice asked, "Welshmen?" as he looked both of us up and down.
I laughed. "Not since 1848 for me."
Carter shrugged, "I have no idea."
The other man punched Carter on his arm and then pulled back, rubbing his fist. "And made of granite, are ya?"
I said, "Almost." I looked over at O'Reilly.
"May I introduce Mr. John Michael Patrick Murphy?"
I offered my hand and he shook it. "Pleased to meet ya, Mr. Williams. You're looking mighty handsome." His eyes twinkled as he said that.
I smiled. "And this is Mr. Carter Woodrow Wilson Jones."
They shook as Murphy said, "I never heard tale of a Saint Woodrow or a Saint Wilson."
Carter laughed. "According to my father, it was Saint Woodrow Wilson, the last good Democratic President."
Murphy smiled. "Will that be on the test, do ya think?"
"What test?" asked Carter.
O'Reilly answered, "Me Johnny's worryin' about the citizenship test. But these are early days, me love."
I looked over at Murphy. He was about the same height as O'Reilly. Whereas O'Reilly was wide and built like a bodybuilder, Murphy was narrow and lean. I had the sense they were the same age, probably closing in on 50. Murphy had long black hair that flopped around as he talked. His light blue eyes were a little bloodshot and a little watery. His grin was infectious.
"How long have you been in town?" I asked.
"Going on a month," he answered. He reached over, grabbed a small glass of dark beer, and had a long drink.
Right then, the maitre d' approached us and said, "Mr. Williams, your table is ready."
. . .
Once we'd ordered lunch, I asked, "What are the arrangements for Captain Thomas?"
O'Reilly sobered up a bit. "I prefer to do a burial at sea. That means goin' out a good distance from the coast. And I'd like to take The Flirtatious Captain, if you don't mind."
I shook my head. "That's fine. Will you let us know when you're going?"
O'Reilly looked over at Murphy and then back at me. "If it'
s OK with you, I think we'd like to do this alone with just a small crew."
Carter answered for me. "That's just fine, Captain."
I nodded in agreement.
We all sat for a minute in silence. I half expected O'Reilly to toast his friend, but that never came. After a couple of long moments, I looked directly at O'Reilly, who was sitting across from me. "OK, Captain, what's the story?"
"What story would that be?"
I pointed to Murphy. "How long have you two known each other?"
O'Reilly nodded and sighed. "I shoulda known there would be no hiding it from you, Mr. Williams."
Carter laughed. "You couldn't hide it from the man on the moon, it's as obvious as anything."
"What might that be?" asked Murphy.
I answered, "That you two have known each other for years and that you're in love."
Murphy nodded as O'Reilly blushed. "That be true." He took a drink of the beer he'd brought from the bar and then leaned in. "And here's the tale of it. Both of us was born in 1907. Our da's worked on the barges and our ma's were thick as thieves."
O'Reilly said, "We were even in school together, although that came to an end with the troubles what with the war with the English and then the civil war."
Murphy added, "About the time of the civil war—"
"July of '22, it was—"
"And neither of us but 15—"
"That was a grown man in those days—"
"We took hire to a ship that was sailin' over ta New York—"
"Workin' as third mates down in the boiler room—"
"Hot as hell, it was—"
"But New York was somethin' else—"
"The lads in those days—"
"Up in Harlem and down in the Village—"
"They was footloose and fancy-free, they was—"
"And we met all types—"
"Any color of the rainbow, we had them all—"
"Together and apart—"
"But mostly together—"
"And after six months of gettin' by—"
"We set sail again—"
O'Reilly nodded. "By then, me da was moved over to Hong Kong."
His brogue was getting so thick that it took me a moment to understand what the captain was saying. "Me da" meant "my dad."
As they talked, they were looking at each other. It was like something in a movie. Carter and I watched and listened.
Right then, the waiter came with our soup. Once he was gone, Murphy continued, "His poor ma havin' passed on account of the influenza and all the family scattered to the four winds—"
"And we made our way there—"
"Took nigh on two years, it did—"
"By then, Mai was born—"
"And what a hellion she was—"
"Smart as a whip—"
"Then his da cottoned on to our ways—"
"And made me Johnny take a job with a ship and without me—"
I held up my hand. "Wait." O'Reilly looked at me. "You let your father convince him to leave town?"
O'Reilly pursed his lips and nodded.
Murphy turned to me and said, "You have ta understand, Mr. Williams, old man O'Reilly was a livin' terror. To this day, I don't understand how those Japs was able to control him. Meself, I was afraid a' the man."
O'Reilly added, "He loved his family—"
"By leavin' Ireland—"
"Which was a favor to the nation—"
Murphy roared in laughter and slapped O'Reilly on the back. "It was, at that." They both paused to taste their soup.
Carter asked, "It sounds like Mai was born in '25 or so. That right?"
O'Reilly nodded with a frown as he slurped from his spoon.
Murphy said, "She was born in '24. Old man O'Reilly left Ireland just after we did."
"So, she was 16 when Captain Thomas got her pregnant?"
O'Reilly nodded. Murphy leaned in. "I never did meet ole Pete until these past few days, but I heard tale that Mai grabbed onto the first sailor that crossed her path."
I looked over at O'Reilly whose face was red. He growled, "You take that back, John Murphy."
Murphy held up his hands apologetically. "A fine woman she must be, a doctor and all. All I'm sayin' is she was born smart and stayed smart. Didn' I do the same thing, meself?" He put his hand on O'Reilly's shoulder. The captain nodded.
"That you did."
"You O'Reilly folk are a rare breed, make no mistake. And I love you all, each and every one. How could I not?" He brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth and blew on it.
I asked, "How're you liking living in the City?"
Murphy swallowed. "It's a fine place, make no mistake. I can see meself stayin' here for the rest of me life." He looked over at O'Reilly, who nodded.
"Are you working?" Carter asked.
O'Reilly flushed and Murphy looked confused. He answered, "That I am, Mr. Jones. For you."
O'Reilly added, "He's the new First Mate on the Captain." He looked at me for approval.
I shrugged. "Robert knows the history between the two of you?"
O'Reilly nodded.
"Then it's fine by me."
The captain let out a big sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Williams."
Murphy put his hand on my leg. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Williams."
I shook my head. "Don't thank me. Thank Robert. That's his job."
"And very capable, he is." That was the captain.
. . .
After lunch, we made our way up to my office. Once we were settled in, with Murphy and O'Reilly on the sofa and Carter and myself seated in chairs, I asked, "Captain, now that things have changed, have you thought about what you want to do?"
He nodded and put his arm around Murphy, who sighed. "Before I tell you my idea, Mr. Williams, I want to be sure you know that the only reason I'd be this presumptuous is that me family's involved."
I nodded and glanced at Carter. He was watching Murphy and O'Reilly with an unusual expression on his face. I wondered about that.
"That said, I'd suggest we fly to Hong Kong, spend some days gettin' the lay of the land, and then make our way across the border. Of course, Johnny and I will do the dangerous stuff. No need for you to get involved in that."
Carter said, "You mentioned family. You're our family, Captain. So, we're in it with you." He looked at me and I nodded in agreement.
"Do either of you speak Chinese?" I asked.
O'Reilly shook his head. "It's Cantonese down there. And beyond the basics, no."
I stood up and walked over to the door. I poked my head out. "Doll, can you ask Mike to come over and to bring Sam with him?"
She shook her head. "Mike's at home. But Sam's here."
I nodded and wondered what was going on with Mike's odd hours. "Will you ask Sam to come over, then?"
"Sure thing."
"Thanks, doll."
. . .
Once introductions were made and Sam was seated, Captain O'Reilly and I brought him up to speed. Once we were done, I asked, "How's your Cantonese coming along, Sam?"
He replied in what must have been that language with a grin on his face. He added, "Pretty good. Are you thinking of smuggling the two of them out?"
I nodded. "And I'd like for you to come with us."
He sat back and thought for a moment. "I'm in the middle of a job for Mike."
I nodded and waited.
"But there's a kid just off the boat that I've gotten to know in Chinatown. His uncle works at the Far East Cafe. He's smart as a whip. He's learning American English pretty fast. Mostly from watching TV." He sat there for a moment, lost in thought.
"And?" I prompted.
Sam grinned at me. "And it might make more sense for him to go with you than me."
"Why not both of you together?" That was Carter.
Sam looked down at the carpet. "Truth be told, I'd like to stay close to Ike."
I couldn't argue with that, so I said, "Yeah." I shifted in the chair. "What about this
kid? Is he in the life?"
Sam looked at me and winked. "Yeah."
Carter grinned. "Have you two...?"
Sam laughed. "When you meet him, you'll see."
"Chinese bodybuilders?" I asked.
"Sure," answered Sam. "It's been banned by the Party. Too decadent." He crossed his arms. "Cheung is his last name. I don't know his Cantonese first name but everyone here calls him Bobby. You want me to ask if he's available?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
Sam stood up. "I'm waiting for a phone call on this case I'm working on. I'll run over to the Far East and see if he's around. He's been doing odd jobs over there."
I stood. "That's fine, Sam." I offered him my hand.
He shook it, took in the room, and said, "Good luck to you guys."
. . .
We were going over the details of our plan a second time and making some changes when Marnie knocked on the door. "You gotta visitor, Nick."
I stood up and met a very short and very broad Chinese man with a big grin on his face. He had straight dark hair, dark eyes, a broken nose, stood maybe 5'1", if that, and was impossibly wide in the shoulders. He was wearing a fleece coat over a sweater and the arms were straining at the seams. His thighs were tremendously large under very baggy gray wool trousers. They needed to be tailored because the cuffs were rolled up.
He offered his hand and asked "Mr. Williams?" I shook yet another bodybuilder's calloused and dry hand. His grip was tight.
I nodded, "Mr. Cheung?"
"You got 'im. Call me Bobby."
"I'm Nick. Come on in."
He followed me over to where everyone else was waiting. Carter stood up and offered his hand. "Carter Jones. Call me Carter."
Bobby nodded as he shook. "I seen you at Sugar Joe's #2 in North Beach." Looking over at me with a grin, he added, "Can't miss him, can you?"
I laughed. "No." I introduced O'Reilly and Murphy.
Pointing to where Sam had been sitting, I said, "Have a seat, Bobby."
He did just that. "Thanks." He pulled off his jacket. The sweater was cut at the midpoint of his thick forearms. He reached around and draped his jacket over the back of the chair. "Sam said you might have a swell kinda job for me."
I nodded. "Let me tell you what we're thinking and then you tell me whether you're interested."
The Sodden Sailor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 11) Page 7
