The Sodden Sailor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 11)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  . . .

  We were just finishing lunch when Newland walked up to the table. "Mr. Williams?"

  I stood, smiled, and said, "Have a seat." O'Reilly and Murphy began to get up from the table. "Stay. This involves the two of you." They both nodded and sat down again.

  Bobby had said he wasn't hungry. He was lying down in the small cabin. Christine had checked on him and taken him a bottle of 7-Up to help settle his stomach. She thought he might have air sickness. He'd told her it was the first time he'd been on an airplane.

  I looked at Newland and said, "So, we're on our way to Hong Kong to help get Captain O'Reilly's half sister and her son across the border."

  Newland's eyes widened and he nodded.

  "And," I continued, "Bobby doesn't have papers, so we're smuggling him as we go." I mentioned the hatch under the bedroom and how Bobby would be hiding out there when we landed at each of our three stops.

  Newland looked down at the table with a frown on his face. "We could get in serious trouble."

  I waited to let him talk it out. Murphy jumped in, however, and said, "It's all fine, boyo. You've got two of the best gun-runners in the business between myself and Danny, here." He kissed O'Reilly on the cheek.

  Newland went pale. He looked around and asked in a whisper, "Is everyone on this plane...?"

  Carter leaned in. "Not the two captains."

  "Or Christine," I added.

  O'Reilly leaned back and folded his arms. "Do you know who you're at the table with, me lad?" His Irish accent was getting thicker by the day.

  Newland shrugged. "Well, I know that's Mr. Williams." He pointed at me. He looked around and shrugged. "But, I'm really bad with names. I don't know who the rest of you are."

  I laughed. "Don't you read the papers?"

  The kid shook his head. "Not, really. I like the movies. And TV. But I skip the newsreels."

  O'Reilly said, "Ah. That explains it, then, doesn't it?"

  Newland shrugged. "I guess?"

  "How old are you?"

  "25."

  "How long you been workin' on airplanes?"

  "Since I was in the Air Force."

  "Korea?"

  Newland nodded. "Up until last summer. That's when I was, um..." He looked around the plane uncertainly.

  I asked, "Did they kick you out for being a homosexual?"

  Newland nodded, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his face.

  "General discharge?"

  "No. My C.O. was a good guy. I still got an Honorable. But, you know..." He shrugged and looked down at the table again.

  "So, what work have you been doing since you left?" That was Carter.

  "Nothing. No airline would hire me."

  "How'd you get hired by us?" I asked

  "A friend of my father knows Captain Morris. He told me to call the captain and tell him about my discharge and that I was available. I did that and Captain Morris told me to call someplace called Consolidated Security, which seemed like a weird name for a company that owns airplanes. A really nice guy by the name of..." He looked at the ceiling uncertainly.

  "Robert Evans?" That was O'Reilly.

  Newland nodded. "That's him." He lit up. "He was swell. Real friendly. He hired me. I went up into that weird building everyone calls The Lipstick and filled out all the paperwork." He smiled. "He even gave me a bonus check and set me up in a furnished apartment."

  O'Reilly looked concerned. "Kicked out by the family, were you?"

  Newland nodded. "How'd you know?"

  "Well, the owner of the company is like that. Real generous man."

  He looked around the cabin searchingly. "Who is the owner?"

  Everyone else laughed while Newland blushed.

  Carter put his arm around me and said, "This is Nick Williams. He's the most notorious homosexual in the world. He's the generous man who owns the company. He's my husband. And I love him." He kissed me on the lips for a long moment.

  Newland's eyes widened as he said, "Gee."

  Chapter 14

  Royal Hawaiian Hotel

  Honolulu, Hawaii Terr.

  Monday, February 14, 1955

  Around 5 in the afternoon

  The hotel put us in the same two-bedroom suite we'd had the previous summer when we'd been there. The bellboy opened the door and led us through the hallway and into the living room. There, on the coffee table between the two sofas, stood two sets of flowers. Two bottles of champagne were chilling in two buckets right next to the table. Carter and I looked at each other and laughed without saying anything.

  Once the bellboy had put our valises on the floor, I handed him a folded ten and hurriedly walked him to the front door. He whistled his way back to the elevator.

  I closed the door and walked over to Carter, who was already beginning to peel off his clothes. I followed his lead and, without a word, walked into the bedroom on the right and spent a couple of glorious hours celebrating the holiday with the windows open and the trade winds blowing through and puffing up the curtains.

  . . .

  We met the rest of the crew downstairs at 7 for dinner. We had a large round table in the back. Bobby was missing. He'd called our room at half past 6 and said he still didn't feel well and was going to order in something from room service.

  The two captains and Newland arrived about fifteen minutes after the rest of us.

  "Sorry we're late." That was Captain Morris. "And I'm sorry to say that we need to stay another day. I have some more checks I want to run. We also need to replace a part on the number three engine." He looked at me. "I was able to buy it from the T.W.A. maintenance crew. I hope you don't mind."

  I shook my head. "That's fine. You know that, Captain."

  He smiled. "They charged me double what it's worth."

  I shrugged and then looked at Carter. "If we're gonna be here for the day tomorrow, then we should get in touch with Jeff and John." They'd been our houseboys for a few days at the house Carter had bought on Kauai. Shortly after we met them, Jeff had bought a house on the north shore of Oahu and had moved John and John's grandmother in with him. The two kids were really good surfers and were the ones who'd first taught Carter. "Maybe they'll take you out for some surfing."

  Carter smiled. "Sure. I'd like that." He didn't seem very interested and I wondered about that.

  . . .

  After dinner, we were walking back into the suite and the phone began to ring. I walked over and picked up the extension that was in the living room.

  "Yeah?"

  "Mr. Williams, this is Christine." She sounded worried.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "It's Bobby. I decided to check on him after dinner." As well as being a stewardess, she was also a nurse. "I think he has pneumonia. We need to get him to a hospital right away."

  "Can you make the arrangements?"

  "I've already called the hotel doctor."

  "Fine. What can we do?"

  She paused. "Isn't he going with Sam Halversen?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes."

  "Maybe Sam should be here."

  I paused and thought about that for a moment. "Is it that serious?"

  "He's having a lot of trouble breathing. It looks bad."

  "I'll call Sam but I'm not sure he can leave town."

  "Thanks, Mr. Williams."

  "Thank you, Christine."

  I put down the phone and turned to Carter. "Bobby has pneumonia."

  "Poor kid." He frowned. "Doesn't that seem strange?"

  "How so?"

  "I don't know. He was fine this morning."

  I looked at my husband for a long moment. "Maybe you should go down there and see what Christine thinks. I need to make a couple of phone calls."

  Carter nodded. Before he left, he stopped to kiss me. Once he was gone, I picked up the phone and dialed the operator.

  "Hotel operator. May I help you?"

  "I need to make a person-to-person call to San Francisco. I'm calling Marnie L
eBeau at Underhill 3-9102."

  She repeated Marnie's name and phone number. "This may take a few minutes. Shall I ring back?"

  "Yes. If there's no answer here, try the suite of Mr. Cheung."

  "Is that Bobby or Li?"

  "Bobby."

  "Very good, sir."

  I put the receiver down and paced the room for a couple of minutes. As I did so, I realized I'd never looked at the flowers that Carter had sent to me. It was about thirty red roses and there was a card attached that read, "Love you, Your Chief." I leaned over and smelled one of the roses. As I did, the phone rang.

  I hopped over and picked it up. "Yeah?"

  "I have your person-to-person call for San Francisco."

  "Thank you, Operator."

  "Go ahead, San Francisco."

  "Nick?" It was Marnie.

  "Hi, doll. Hope I'm not gettin' you outta bed."

  "Well, not really."

  I could hear Alex say something. Obviously, they were still in bed. I grinned.

  "What's up?" she asked.

  "Can you get hold of Sam tonight and tell him that Bobby has pneumonia. It's looking bad and it'd be great if he could catch the first flight here tomorrow."

  "That fast?"

  "Yeah. I'm not sure how it happened." I remembered something important. "And ask Sam to find Bobby's uncle. I'll pay for him to fly out if he wants."

  "Sure thing, Nick."

  "Thanks, doll. Tell Alex I'm sorry I interrupted things."

  Marnie giggled and hung up without replying.

  . . .

  "Do you know how long it's been since Mr. Cheung was on the Chinese mainland?"

  We were at The Queen's Hospital. Bobby had been admitted and was under an oxygen tent in a private room. Carter, Christine, and I were standing in the hallway talking with a Dr. Whiteside. It was just after midnight.

  I shrugged. "Maybe a month. One of our employees should be here tomorrow. He knew Bobby better than any of us."

  The doctor looked at me for a long moment and then cleared his throat. "Mr. Williams, I'm aware of your reputation and that of the men"—he glanced sideways at Christine—"whom you employ. Is it possible that this employee of yours has had intimate relations with Mr. Cheung?"

  I nodded. "Yes."

  "Then, he should not travel. He must immediately get medical attention."

  I looked at Carter. He said, "I'll call Marnie right now." Looking at the doctor. "Where's the closest payphone?"

  "At the end of this corridor."

  Carter broke into a jog, headed in the direction of where the doctor had pointed.

  Christine asked, "Is it pneumonia, Doctor?"

  He nodded. "Yes. And a particularly virulent strain. Can you tell me how much contact each of you has had with Mr. Cheung?"

  Christine took over and described how Bobby had spent the flight holed up in the small cabin. "I've had the most contact, Doctor."

  He leaned in, looked at her eyes, and then stood up straight. "Any nausea?"

  "No."

  "Have you produced any phlegm?"

  "No, Doctor."

  "Any sense of fever?"

  She shook her head.

  He nodded. "You should be fine. If you notice any of those symptoms, take your temperature. If you it's high, let me know immediately."

  "What's the exposure period?" she asked.

  "Hard to say. I suspect he's had walking bronchitis for a while without knowing it. Was he spending any time in Chinatown in San Francisco?"

  I nodded. "He was. The only family I know of is an uncle."

  "We've been seeing a lot of this particular strain among the Chinese refugees here in Honolulu. He most likely picked it up from his family. I would suggest—"

  Right then, Carter jogged up. He was frowning. I knew something was wrong. "Excuse me, Doctor." He looked down at me. "Marnie said she's been trying to call you. She couldn't find Sam so she called Mike. He got Walter on it and he found Sam at St. Mary's. He's been there since about noon. Mike said Sam was feeling nauseous on the ride back up to the City from the airport so he dropped him off at home. Looks like Sam has the same thing. The doctor there is worried."

  "What about Mrs. Kopek?" They were childhood friends back in Czechoslovakia.

  Carter nodded. "Marnie called her and she's at the hospital now."

  I shook my head. "This is awful." I turned to the doctor. "Sam is about fifty and strong as an ox. What are his chances?"

  The doctor pursed his lips. "I couldn't possibly say without examining him." He relaxed a little. "But, St. Mary's is a fine institution. I'll phone them to let them know his point of contagion. That will help in the treatment. I assume this Sam is Chinese?"

  Christine answered. "He's Caucasian. From Czechoslovakia."

  He frowned. "Recently?"

  I shook my head. "No. He's been in San Francisco since the 30s."

  He nodded. "Then, excuse me. I need to make that call right now." He walked briskly to down the hall and made a quick exit down the stairs.

  . . .

  Carter and I stayed at the hospital. We sent Christine back to the hotel. Around 5 in the morning, Dr. Whiteside found us in the waiting area.

  "Mr. Williams?"

  We both stood up. The doctor looked grim. "I'm afraid Mr. Cheung just expired."

  Neither of us said anything.

  "I do believe he'd been sick with either bronchitis or some other lung infection for some time. His lungs filled up with fluid and we simply had no way to drain them."

  I looked around the waiting room. The only other people in the room was a large Hawaiian family who'd been sitting very quietly. They were watching us. The oldest woman stood, walked over, and said, "Thank you, Doctor," she said.

  He nodded. "The news for your grandson is promising, Mrs. Kahele. I'm going to check on him now."

  She smiled up at him. "Maybe he should sleep a little more?"

  The doctor smiled. "Maybe he should."

  "Thank you, Doctor."

  He nodded and said to me, "Who is the family contact?"

  I shook my head.

  Carter answered, "We are."

  The doctor stood still for a moment and then nodded. "I guess you are. If you could go to the hospital office after 8 this morning and make arrangements..."

  I could feel my eyes filling with tears.

  Mrs. Kahele quietly said, "They will do that, Doctor."

  He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm very sorry, Mr. Williams." He looked at Carter who was also beginning to cry. "Mr. Jones." He turned and slowly walked away.

  Mrs. Kahele said, "Please, let's sit down. My old legs can't take too much standing."

  I nodded. We both sat down where we'd been for the last several hours. She sat between us and took my hand. "An old friend, perhaps?"

  I shook my head and sniffed. "No. Bobby was a new friend. We just hired him to help us with a case."

  "A case?"

  I nodded but didn't say anything.

  "I see," she replied to my answer. "Well, I am very sorry about your friend."

  Carter said, "Thank you, ma'am."

  The woman giggled slightly as did a couple of the other women she'd been sitting with. Mrs. Kahele said, "Your accent is very charming to us."

  Carter smiled wanly and turned up his southern charm. I didn't think he realized he was doing it. "This is a beautiful part of the world, ma'am."

  The women giggled again. Mrs. Kahele smiled. "You've been here before?"

  I nodded. "We were here last summer."

  Carter added, "Here and Kauai."

  Mrs. Kahele looked up at Carter and replied, "Oh! The Garden Island. It is quite beautiful there, is it not?" She paused for a moment. "Are you possibly the Mr. Jones who bought The Thompson Plantation on the north shore?"

  Carter nodded. "How'd you know?"

  She smiled. "My brother and my father worked for Mr. Thompson."

  "On the plantation?" I asked.

  She
nodded. "Yes. When he was trying to grow pineapple. Too wet there for pineapple." She grinned. "He was a very bad farmer."

  Carter said, "That's what we've heard."

  Mrs. Kahele looked from Carter to me and back to him again. "Do you know an old Hawaiian word: aikane?"

  He shook his head. "No, ma'am."

  That elicited more giggles. Mrs. Kahele said, "Even our great king, Kamehameha, had an aikane."

  "What is it?" asked Carter.

  "It is what you and your friend have. This kind of love." She smiled.

  I felt myself blush. I looked over at the rest of the family. They were openly listening to the conversation. None of them seemed upset or surprised at all. One of the men, who was somewhere around 40 and dressed in a wrinkled blue linen suit, winked at me. That took me by surprise.

  "It is an old tradition, banished by the missionaries. But it was very common. Like the Greeks, wouldn't you say?"

  Carter nodded. "I guess so, ma'am." More giggles.

  She took Carter's left hand and my right hand and held them together. She said something that I didn't understand. I looked over at the rest of the family. Two of the women looked surprised. The man who'd winked was grinning. And the rest were watching Mrs. Kahele with interest.

  When she finished, she squeezed our hands and let them go. "Now you are married." She stood and said something to the family. They all walked over and began to introduce themselves.

  The man who'd winked at me pulled me aside, "I'm a big fan of yours, Mr. Williams." He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. I nodded, not knowing how to respond. "Now, you do the same, brah."

  I kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. Is that your grandmother?"

  He said, "She's my auntie. Big wig around the islands." He looked at me with his big black eyes and said, "If she says you're married, it'll get around."

  Right then, Mrs. Kahele walked up and said, "This is my Tony."

  He extended his hand, "Anthony John Paul Kalama. Call me Tony."

  "Nice to meet you, Tony."

  By that time, Carter was standing next to us. He offered his hand and Tony shook it. Carter asked, "Kalama?"

  Tony grinned. "You met another auntie of mine last summer. She'd been over here to see her son, the doctor. He works in Haleiwa. That's over by where John Kekoa and Jeff Suzuki live with Granny Suzuki."