The Sodden Sailor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 11)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  Evelyn laughed. "How'd the conversation get this gloomy? We're about to have a party!" She stood and looked down at Carter. "Put on one of your Dixieland albums for me. Please, Carter?"

  He wiped his mouth, stood, and said, "For you, Evelyn, anything."

  Everyone got quiet as he walked over to the hi-fi.

  I nodded. "Yeah, Evelyn. Anything. But, I want you to remember what you promised."

  Mary said, "I'm not sure—"

  "No, it's OK, hon. We can talk about it." She looked at me. "Yes, Nick, I promise to let you take me to Hawaii when I'm ready to go."

  Mary wiped her eyes with her napkin. "Babe, I don't—"

  Evelyn sat next to her girlfriend and took her hands. "Mary, it's OK. I'm going to do this on my terms. I know it's hard." She looked around the table. "It's hard for everyone. And I'm sorry for that."

  Mary shook her head. "It isn't your fault." She pounded the table. "It's that damn tumor."

  Evelyn looked at Mary for a long moment. "Every day I have with you is a gift. I know that's impossible for you to truly hear it the way I mean it, but I want you to be able to remember that I said it. Because someday you'll know what I mean." She looked at me. "And I want our friends to hear it, too." Turning back to Mary, she said, "I love you." She looked at her girlfriend searchingly. "I love you so damn much." She stood and offered her hand. "Give me a kiss and tell me you love me, too."

  Mary stood and did just that while the rest of us watched amid the sniffles and the tears. It was beautiful and heartbreaking, all at the same time.

  . . .

  The party was in full swing by midnight. The house was packed with guys and gals of all sorts and stripes. Marnie and Alex had stopped in for a while but then had left after about thirty minutes. I was impressed that Alex had come at all, since he was the only straight man in the room.

  Most everyone at the party was a couple. There were more lady couples than guy couples, which made sense. We'd asked Ida and Nora along with Gustav and Ferdinand to join in the party. And, shortly after 9, we'd dispatched Mrs. Kopek and Mrs. Strakova off in a cab to go spend the night with a Czechoslovakian friend of theirs over in the Sunset.

  . . .

  The party thinned out after 3. Carter and I were dancing to Tony Bennett when Pam came up to me and said that she and Diane were heading home and taking Evelyn and Mary with them.

  I reluctantly pulled myself away from Carter's arms and looked around the room. There were only a handful of people left and I recognized all of them. We'd turned down the lights and the fire was down to glowing embers. There were two couples necking on the sofa. One was Henry and Robert. The other was Andy and Dawson. I saw Sam and Bobby Cheung dancing together near the fireplace. Frankie and Maria were swaying to the music over by the garden door.

  Hand in hand, Carter and I followed Pam to the front door. Diane and Evelyn were standing on the front porch, bundled up for the cold. I could see Mary at the steering wheel of her '51 Nash Rambler parked right in front.

  I gave Diane a kiss on the cheek and a hug. "Thanks for pulling this together. It was swell." I could feel myself sway a little. I was probably drunker than I realized.

  She giggled. "You're welcome, Nick. Have fun on your trip. Be sure to send us postcards."

  "We will. Give those little beasts of yours a kiss from Carter."

  She giggled again. "I will."

  Carter and I switched. I gave Evelyn a hug. "I'm not gonna hassle you again about your promise. I swear."

  She laughed. "It's fine, Nick. Really, it is." She stepped back and looked at the park across the street. "You don't realize how wonderful every moment is until you know that it's going to end sooner than you thought." She put her gloved hand on my cheek. I put my hand over hers and held it there. "Don't forget that, Nick. Every moment is wonderful."

  I nodded and let her go.

  Chapter 13

  San Francisco International Airport

  Monday, February 14, 1955

  Just before 8 in the morning

  On Monday morning, I drove the Roadmaster through the morning traffic down the Bayshore Freeway and to the airport. Carter was next to me and Ferdinand was in the backseat next to a large steamer trunk. The rest of the valises and suitcases were in the trunk of the car.

  I drove onto the tarmac through the gate next to the small private terminal building and parked the car right at the foot of the portable stairs that lead up to what was obviously our new plane. The same artist who'd decorated the Lumberjack had painted a goofy-looking blond fireman under the nose of the Constellation and, in the same style of lettering, had written The Flying Fireman.

  That was my handiwork. I'd pulled Robert aside during the party and asked him to arrange for it on Sunday.

  When Carter saw it, he laughed and leaned over to give me a kiss. We lingered for a moment until Ferdinand opened his door and discreetly coughed.

  We all piled out of the car. As we did, Mike and Sam came down the stairs. I was expecting Sam since he was bringing Bobby Cheung to the airport but seeing Mike was a surprise.

  "Morning!" I called out from behind the car as we began to unload it.

  Mike walked around and said, "Need a hand?"

  Carter answered, "Sure. The more, the merrier."

  Right then, one of the fat United Boeing Stratocruisers roared by on its takeoff. We all stopped to watch as it began to lift into the sky.

  Mike said, "Those things look like they're pregnant."

  I laughed. "Yeah. But they're nice to ride in."

  We got all the luggage into the hold, leaving out a couple of valises and the briefcase of cash we'd learned to bring along, to take up into the ship itself.

  Before we went upstairs, Carter shook Ferdinand's hand and said, "Be good to Gustav and do those exercises I showed you. I'll be calling every few days to check on your progress."

  Ferdinand nodded somberly. "Yes, Mr. Carter. I will do as you say."

  I walked up and pulled him into a hug. He was always shocked when I did that but I didn't care. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, "Yeah, be good to Gustav. Also, see if you can find some Japanese cherry trees to plant in the garden."

  Ferdinand smiled widely and kissed me on the cheek in return. "You always make me feel better, Mr. Nick, when you kiss the cheek."

  I smiled and stepped back. "That's what I hear. Be good and we'll see you soon."

  He saluted us, turned smartly, got in the car, and roared off.

  Carter said, "Do you really think you should be kissing the boys like that?"

  Imitating Ferdinand's Czechoslovakian accent, I replied, "Mr. Carter, we are not boys. We are men."

  He laughed as we walked up the stairs together.

  . . .

  "Wanna show you this little collection, Nick."

  We were standing around the big conference table that was, in fact, behind the galley just like Robert had described to us on Saturday night. Everyone on board was able to stand around the table, that's how large it was. The two captains; the new engineer, one Kevin Newland, Christine, our stewardess; Bobby Cheung; Sam; Captain O'Reilly; John Murphy; Mike; Carter; and myself.

  Set out on the large table were twelve or so devices. Some were small, some were large. Two included built-in tape recorders. There were spools of cable and a handful of antennas. I immediately knew what it was for and didn't like it one bit.

  I asked, "Is any of this active or 7live?"

  Mike shook his head. "No. And this is only part of it, as I'll explain. I had some of the boys over here on Saturday. We came in around 8 that morning and worked until we had to leave to get ready for the party."

  "Why didn't you tell us then?" asked Carter with a mildly irritated sound in his voice.

  Mike looked over. "Didn't wanna worry you."

  Carter huffed but didn't say anything.

  I said, "Did you have to come back yesterday?"

  Mike nodded. "Yeah. We worked another four or so hours. But we fo
und every damn one of 'em. They were all very well hidden, too." He pointed to the smaller devices. "These were in the cabins. There's the one big bedroom in the back. And then there's a smaller cabin that has a Pullman setup with two bunks. Both rooms had four mics apiece. There were two of these junction boxes and they were connected to the mics with this cable. I couldn't get one of the boxes out, so it's still in the wall in the bedroom." He pointed to another spool of cables. "These led to a recording device. Again, we couldn't remove all of them but they're all disabled." He looked around the main cabin. "The whole place was wired and bugged."

  O'Reilly said, "Was it deliberate? To spy on Mr. Williams?"

  Mike nodded. "Most of this stuff is new. I don't think any of it's been much used, if at all." Looking at me, he asked, "Don't you think it's ballsy to ask you to pay for being spied on?"

  I grinned and then asked, "But how much would they have been able to pick up with the sound of the propellers?"

  Captain Morris was standing with us. He said, "That's a good point, Mr. Williams. This plane is better insulated for sound than any I've ever been in. We noticed it when we flew it up from Los Angeles. And we confirmed it on the two test flights we made out over the ocean."

  Mike added, "The mics are the most sensitive I've seen. They would have recorded everything."

  I looked down at the small spools. "But how long would they be able to record?"

  Mike grinned and pointed to the largest device. He picked up a handful of antennas. "Probably four to six hours, from what I can tell. I didn't test it but these are designed to transmit at some unusual frequencies." He picked up a small black box with several input connections. "This box can be activated by a radio signal to begin to transmit what's been recorded. My guess is that you land at Honolulu for refueling and there's a device in place somewhere close to the airport that can send a signal to activate the box which would then begin to transmit what's on the tap."

  Captain O'Reilly asked, "Can it be activated now?"

  Mike shook his head. "All of this equipment requires a lot of juice from the power plant."

  Captain Morris pointed to Newland and said, "Our new engineer noticed a lot of power being used when there was no reason for it. We let Robert know—"

  Carter finished the captain's thought. "And he told Mike."

  I looked up at my husband. He was obviously torn by irritation and admiration.

  "I'm just doin' my job, Carter." That was Mike.

  Carter sighed. "I know and I appreciate it." He wanted to say more but he didn't.

  "What're you gonna do with all this?" I asked.

  Mike grinned. "Keep it. Sam and Walter are gonna re-wire it so we can use it. And before you ask, I already checked with Robert. The sales contract explicitly said that you were buying the airplane and all of its contents."

  I nodded and looked around the cabin. It was smaller than the Lumberjack. There was one fewer of the small bedrooms. The seats were cloth instead of leather. There were four rows, instead of the three we had on the other plane, and there were two seats on the starboard side of the ship and one seat on the port side. I looked down and realized that the carpet was new.

  Christine noticed and said, "The carpet was installed last night."

  Mike added, "Yeah, we pretty much tore up what was there before. And that brings me to the next part. Then Sam and I will hit the road so you can get going."

  He turned and walked down the corridor that led to the bedroom all the way aft. Carter and I followed him, along with Sam and Bobby. Once Mike was in the bedroom, he knelt down on the floor and reached for a hook that was tucked under the carpet. He turned it and lifted up a hatch that was about four feet by four feet. "Nice little hidey-hole down here," he said.

  Sam added, "Not so little." He gently pushed me in the back. "Go have a look."

  I walked over and was surprised to see a narrow flight of stairs that led into the belly of the plane. Grabbing hold of the cover, I gingerly walked down the steps.

  From above, Mike said, "When you get down to the bottom, there's a switch on the bulkhead to the right."

  The hold was about five and a half feet high, so I had to lean over. I felt along the wall, found the switch, and flipped it.

  The space was about ten feet wide and thirty feet long. It was illuminated by a string of recessed bulbs that were placed above the walls on either side. A long, narrow table occupied the center area while benches lined the walls. The far end of the room was lined with storage lockers. I made my way around the hold and discovered that the benches could also be converted into bunks.

  I made my way back up into the bedroom and carefully watched Mike as he closed the hatch and smoothed out the carpet so that it was no longer obvious.

  "That solves one particular problem," I said.

  Bobby coughed and said, "How to smuggle me into Hong Kong?"

  I nodded. "Yep."

  Mike shook his head. "Good thing you'll be doing that outside of the U.S. No one for me to call and report you to."

  . . .

  We'd been up in the air for about twenty minutes when Captain Morris emerged from the cockpit with some papers in his hand. Carter and I were sitting next to each other on the starboard side in the front row. Made it easier to hold hands. He stopped next to Carter, who was on the aisle and smiled down at us. "Would you like to see the flight plan?"

  We both unbuckled our seat belts, stood, and followed him down the aisle. I motioned to Bobby, O'Reilly, and Murphy to follow us and they did.

  We gathered around one end of the big conference table. Captain Morris laid out a couple of maps. Using his finger, he pointed. "Here's San Francisco. We're on our way to Honolulu. We left right at 9 Pacific time. That was 7 Hawaii time. Our flight time will be just under eight hours. We'll arrive at 3 in the afternoon, local time." He looked up at me. "I know you're in a hurry to get there, but I asked Robert to set us up in a hotel tonight in Honolulu. I want to have a good look at the plane before we head out on our next leg. Even if that means staying an extra day."

  I nodded. "That's fine. I suppose he has us booked into the Pink Palace?" That was the nickname of the Royal Hawaiian, a hotel we'd stayed at the summer before.

  Captain Morris nodded. "I asked him to book two nights, just in case. He said everyone has suites because it's the high season."

  "Where do we go after Honolulu?"

  He traced a line across the ocean. "Next stop is Tokyo. Haneda Airport. That's our longest leg. Twelve hours and we cross the date line. We leave at 8 in the morning, whether it's tomorrow or the next day, and we arrive at 3 in the afternoon, local time, the following day."

  "All daylight flying," I said.

  The captain nodded. "Just as I like it. But, we only refuel in Tokyo. Then we head down to Hong Kong." He drew the line with his finger. "If we leave at 4, we arrive in Hong Kong at a quarter past 8 that evening."

  "So, Wednesday is the soonest we get there?" I asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Thank you, Captain."

  Carter added, "Yes, thank you. And it really is quiet in here."

  The captain smiled. "Yep."

  . . .

  O'Reilly and Murphy were playing Hearts with Carter and me. Murphy and I had just won our fourth consecutive game when I suddenly realized I'd forgotten something vitally important.

  I stood up and asked, "Will you gentlemen excuse me? I need to talk to Captain Morris."

  Carter smiled. "That's perfect." Putting his hand on my waist, he leaned around and said, "Christine? Can we interest you in a game of Hearts?"

  She was sitting on a bench by the galley reading a magazine. She looked up and narrowed her eyes. "Well—"

  Carter said, "Nick's gonna talk to your husband."

  She put the magazine down and stood with a grin. "I'm in, then."

  . . .

  I stood in the back of the cockpit, behind the flight engineer's chair and said, "I'm in a lotta trouble, Captain, and I hope you can he
lp."

  Captain Obregon laughed. "What law do you need us to help you break this time?"

  Newland turned in his chair with a look of concern on his face. "Did you say break the law?"

  I put my hand on his shoulder. "Didn't they warn you?" I asked.

  He shook his head. He was blond, had blue eyes, and was clean shaven. It suddenly dawned on me that he was in the life. I didn't know why I knew, I just did.

  Captain Morris, who was piloting the ship, kept his eyes on the big blue sky and expanse of ocean below and said, "We'll fill you in later, kid. What can we help you with, Mr. Williams?"

  "This is much worse than breaking the law."

  Captain Obregon laughed again. "I know what it is."

  "What?" asked Morris.

  "He forgot what today is."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You, too?"

  Captain Morris turned and looked at me. "What day is it?"

  I shrugged my shoulders. "It's Valentine's Day."

  Captain Morris hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Shit!"

  We all laughed.

  I asked, "Can you call in a radiogram?"

  Captain Obregon nodded. "Of course. Who to?"

  I said, "To Robert. Ask him to have some tropical flowers put in our suite."

  Captain Obregon was making notes on a clipboard. "And champagne, of course," he said.

  I laughed. "Of course. And add on whatever Captain Morris wants for Christine. My treat. What about you, Captain Obregon?"

  "I took Mildred to the Fairmont last night."

  For the last six months, he'd been dating our favorite waitress who also happened to own our favorite diner on Van Ness. I knew she didn't like fancy. "How'd it go?"

  "She was not impressed. But I did propose to her."

  "What?"

  He nodded. "And she said yes."

  "Congratulations! When's the wedding?"

  "Maybe in June."

  "Good. I'm happy for you both."

  "Thank you, Mr. Williams."

  I turned to Newland. "Are you covered?"

  He was looking at the panel. "I'm not seeing anyone."

  "Come on back when you get a chance. I'll do Captain Morris a favor and be the one who tells you what you're in for."