The Timid Traitor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 10)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Hiya, Doc. How's the patient?"

  "He's recovering. He finally came to last night. He must have had a stroke because while he appears to be able to speak French and can understand English, he doesn't remember any English words."

  "Huh. That happens?"

  "The brain is a magnificent engine. We don't completely understand what a stroke can do but, yes, it can and does happen. This case isn't a usual occurrence, but I did find some other instances of it reported."

  "So, how are you able to talk to him?"

  "Well, that's the thing. When we found a French speaker, one of my colleagues, it turns out he wants to see his wife. Is he married?"

  "Legally, yes. But they haven't seen each other since the Germans invaded Paris."

  "Yes. I believe you mentioned Vichy."

  "Right. She stayed in Paris while Razzie went to work for the new man."

  "Pétain. Who's Razzie?"

  I laughed. "That's our nickname for your patient. None of us can pronounce his last name. One of my guys told us that it means raspberry. So..."

  "I see."

  The doctor didn't have much of a sense of humor. "Is his wife here in the City?"

  "Yes. I'll get in touch with her and let you know what she says."

  "Fine. The sooner, the better."

  "Why? Is he getting worse?"

  "Oh, no. He's just quite irritated and, perhaps, if she were to visit..."

  "Yeah. I'll call you back here in a bit."

  "Very good." With that, the doctor hung up.

  I stood up and walked over to Marnie's desk. "Where's Mike?"

  "He's out on a case. Down in Dogpatch."

  I nodded. "What about Sam?"

  "He's here. Or, at least, he was. You want me to call him, Nick?"

  I shook my head. "Thanks, doll. I'll walk up and see if I can find him. How're you and Alex doing?"

  She looked up and smiled at me. I laughed. I'd begun to recognize her smile that meant things in the bedroom, at least, were going very well.

  . . .

  The door to the office that Sam shared with a couple of the other guys was closed. I tried the door. It was locked. I banged on the frosted window and listened.

  When I'd first moved into the building back in '50, there had been a shady debt collector working by himself in the small office behind the door. His company name was still painted on the glass. "Trusty Collections" was more of a joke than anything else. McIntosh had been the man's name. He'd tried to convince me to take on some of his deadbeat files. I'd politely declined. I'd had enough work through Jeffery at that time and didn't need the headache of trying to work hopeless files. He'd cleared out sometime in '52. The old landlord had told me the man was three months behind in rent when he'd suddenly disappeared.

  A voice on the other side of the door asked, "What?"

  I was surprised. It sounded like Ike.

  "It's Nick. Is Sam with you?"

  All of a sudden, there was the noise of chairs scraping. Something fell. I couldn't tell whether it was a book or a shoe.

  "What's going on in there?" I knew but thought I would ask just to hear how either of them replied.

  "Take a number, Daddy-o." That was Ike. That kid had a real smart mouth sometimes. I'd staked him to open his own gym up in North Beach about a year earlier. And he was doing good. He'd paid me back about half of what I'd extended to him, which was more and faster than I'd expected. But I was glad he wasn't working with us. When we'd first met Ike and Sam, I'd been partial to Ike and Carter had felt that way about Sam. Over the last year, we'd switched positions, for some reason. Carter had a real soft spot for the kid. I found myself more and more partial to Sam. He was likely the smartest person I'd ever met, for one thing. And, for another, he did good work. Mike depended on his connections to some of the shadier parts of the City. And that was a big plus in my book.

  Finally, someone unlocked the door and pulled it open. Ike stood there, grinning at me. He was barefoot, shirtless, and wearing dungarees loose at the waist but tight around his thighs. I shook my head.

  "How's it hangin'?"

  I smiled. "Low and easy."

  He stepped back, a little surprised.

  "Nice, Daddy-o. I guess you're more of a cool cat than I pegged you for."

  I shrugged. Right about then, Sam came around the office partition. He was fully dressed except for his tie, which he was fiddling with. He looked up at me with a grin. "Hi, Nick."

  "You two can't do it at home?"

  Ike snorted. "He was on a date with some old lady last night."

  "Annie?" I asked.

  Sam's face turned somber as he nodded. "Yes."

  "That's what I came to talk to you about."

  Ike looked up. He was pulling on a pair of dirty canvas shoes. "I'm gonna beat feet, cats. Gimme a sec."

  I looked over at Sam who said, "It's all those North Beach beatniks."

  "At a gym?"

  Ike stood up and reached for a gray pullover. He slipped it on without an undershirt and then grabbed a denim jacket. "Those super-cool cats come in to watch us big boys pull our moves."

  I smiled. "Now that makes sense."

  "One of 'em says he's gonna put me in a movie."

  I looked over at Sam who was standing behind Ike. He silently shook his head in response.

  Ike turned around and said, "Gimme some sugar, sweets." They kissed for a lingering moment before Ike said, "Gotta burn rubber."

  I said, "I think that's about driving, not walking."

  Sam laughed. "Ike bought an old Ford. He's been souping it up into a hot-rod."

  I nodded. "Nice."

  By that time, Ike was standing in the doorway. He looked at me and asked, "Don't you wanna kiss me goodbye?"

  I walked over, put my right hand on the back of his head, and pulled him in close for a hard kiss on the mouth. He laughed and said, "Macking on Nick the Notorious. Great way to start the day."

  I said, "You betcha."

  After slipping a piece of paper in my hand, Ike spun on his heels and waved. "Cheerio, Daddy-o!"

  As he bounded down the stairs, I looked at what he'd handed me. It was a check. And it was the final payment on what I'd fronted him. I turned around and showed it to Sam, who was still trying to get his tie on.

  He nodded. "I don't know where it's coming from. I don't think it's all from the gym. And, before you ask, I'm checking around. No leads yet, though."

  "If you need one of us to help, just let Mike know."

  "Not yet."

  I brushed his hands away and began to fix his tie while he stood there. Once it was done, I patted him on the back. He grabbed my lapels and pulled me in for a kiss just like I'd given Ike.

  "What was that for?" I asked.

  Holding onto my lapels, he said in a heavily accented voice, "That's a reminder that the kid is mine, Nick. You don't get everything."

  I nodded. "Understood. But—" I caught myself before I admitted that I had no interest in Ike. Sam was the one I briefly thought about late at night with Carter. And Carter knew it.

  Keeping hold of my coat, Sam asked, "But what?" His American accent was back.

  "Nothing. Let go, Sam." He did and then brushed down my coat with his big, meaty hands. I had no interest in taking things further with anyone, not even him.

  We stood there for a moment. I stepped back and reached for my package of Camels. After offering him one, which he took, I gave him a light with my beat-up Zippo. He then put the cigarette in my mouth and took another one from the pack and lit it from the first one. He winked at me as he took a big puff. He obviously had my number.

  Remembering I was the owner of the company and his boss, I took a big drag, blew it out to my right and said, "Razzie woke up."

  He nodded.

  "And he wants to see Annie."

  He sucked in on the Camel and tilted his head. "I'd say no. But you're the big boss." He gave me another wink. But there was nothing friendly about it. It was s
exual and aggressive.

  I stood there and let the sexual tension building inside of me fade. After another puff, I said, "He doesn't remember how to speak in English."

  Sam nodded. "Not surprising for a stroke."

  "And he's really agitated about seeing her."

  He shrugged. "That isn't her problem."

  I was beginning to get pissed off. I briefly considered delivering my only good shot, a right hook on the kidney, and then decided that Sam was too short for me to pull that off. It tended to work on men taller than me. And it always surprised them. Sam, however, was watching me like a cat toying with a mouse.

  While we'd been in his office, it had started raining outside. I could hear the wind blowing drops against the dirty glass. We'd stopped making any pretense of keeping the place clean once we knew we were moving. Most of the guys didn't care.

  Right then, I heard a knock on the door. Without turning, I said, "Yeah?"

  "What's going on in here?" It was Carter.

  I looked straight at Sam and said, "We're trying to decide whether to tell Annie that Razzie is awake and asking for her."

  "Well, she's downstairs talking to Marnie, so you better make up your mind fast."

  Sam looked up at Carter, over my shoulder, and he said, "I'll go talk to her."

  I nodded. "You do that, Sam. We're heading to the hospital in ten minutes. Get her ready."

  Sam jerked back with a surprised look. "So that's how it is, boss man?"

  I took one last drag off my cigarette, dropped it on the floor, and snuffed it out with the toe of my show. "Yep."

  "Fine." A wave of anger passed over his face. He walked around me. I heard him go out the door, stomp along the hallway, and then make his way down the stairs to the third floor.

  I didn't move. I heard the door close behind me. Carter walked up and put both hands on my shoulders.

  "What the hell, Nick?"

  I stood there, looked out the window, and said, "Here's the short and sweet." I told him about catching Ike and Sam doing it, how Ike had asked for a kiss, how he'd paid me off in full, how I'd helped Sam with his tie, and how he'd threatened me.

  Carter stood there for a moment after I'd finished. "You still have the hots for him?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. But it's more than that."

  "What?"

  I turned around and looked up at my husband. "I think I'm in love with him."

  Carter frowned. "Tell me about that, son."

  I sighed. "He reminds me of you. Or how I think you'll be when you're in your 50s."

  Carter gave me half a smile. "So you're not in love with Sam, then."

  "Wadda ya mean?"

  Pulling me into his arms, Carter said, "I'm kinda flattered."

  I shook my head against his chin. "I still don't follow."

  He bit me lightly on the ear. "Sam's the smartest guy around. He's book smart and street smart. If I'm half the man he is when I get to be 50..."

  I put my arms around my husband. "Kiss me, dammit."

  And he did. For a long time.

  . . .

  When we finally made it down to the third floor, Sam was arguing with Annie in French. They were both in my office and the argument was getting heated.

  Marnie looked alarmed. Robert, who knew some French, just shrugged his shoulders.

  I walked in and asked, "What goes on here?"

  Annie turned on me, her eyes flashing, "You traitor! How could you ask me to go help that degenerate of a man? He should die like he is, helpless and alone." As she said the last sentence, she sat down and burst into tears.

  Handing her my handkerchief, I said, "Don't you want to know why he's here?"

  "No!" Her reply was forceful as she dabbed her eyes.

  I stood there and looked down at her. As I did, she put my handkerchief in her lap, then reached up and began to unpin her hat. Every time I'd seen her, she'd always worn a hat in the same spot. They'd been different hats but always pinned in the same place.

  As she removed her hat, she leaned over and pulled the few thin hairs in the spot back and showed me a very ugly scar on her scalp.

  "This is why I will kill him. Our neighbors, our friends, they did this to me a few days after the liberation. They left for me dead on the street. An American G.I. found me and took me to the hospital. And it was all because of him."

  She began to put her hat back on. After a moment, and before I knew what I was doing, I walked up closer and helped her do so. Once it was in place, she stood up and handed me back my handkerchief.

  "Thank you, Nick."

  "I'm sorry, Annie."

  "For what?" Her voice was full of bitterness.

  "For what happened to you that you didn't deserve."

  "My dear boy, you have no idea of what I deserve or don't deserve, but I thank you. However, I cannot go help that monster. I will go to work and wait for him to die."

  I nodded. "You're not going to do it yourself, are you?"

  She sighed. "No. Sam has helped me see that will do nothing."

  I looked over at Sam, who was avoiding my gaze. I said, "He's a good man, our Sam."

  She smiled faintly. "Yes. And very kind to give a new friend some much-needed comfort even while he was neglecting Ivan." That was Ike's given name. Hearing it shocked both Sam and me.

  Walking past me and into the front office, Annie asked, "Marnie, my dear, will you help me freshen up?"

  "Of course, Annie." And with that, the two of them left the office.

  I turned back to Sam. "Will you come with Carter and me to the hospital and talk to Razzie?"

  He nodded. "Sure thing, Nick."

  . . .

  None of us spoke as we drove over to the hospital. Once I parked the Roadmaster, I killed the ignition. Sam was sitting in the back. I turned around and said, "Before we go in, I have to talk to you about something."

  "That's OK, Nick. I'll tell Mike that I'm quitting when he gets in this afternoon. You don't have to do anything."

  Carter stirred in his seat but didn't look at me, something I was grateful for.

  "Don't be an ass. I don't want you to ever quit."

  "You don't? I'm really sorry for—"

  I put up my hand. "No. I'm sorry. I know you know I have a thing for you, Sam."

  Much to my surprise, he blushed hard. "Yeah. And I was pushing that this morning."

  "I don't blame you. I shouldn't have let Ike dig at you like he did with that kiss."

  Sam nodded. "No, you shouldn't have."

  "I love you, Sam. You'll probably never really know how much I look up to you."

  Sam looked stunned for a moment. After a moment, he said, "I love you too, Nick."

  I nodded and smiled.

  Suddenly, he grinned. "If you two ever, you know..."

  Without turning around, Carter said, "Believe me, I've thought about it, Sam. I feel the same way Nick does. But—"

  "I know. It's a shame. For me, at least. We could have a real sweet time."

  Carter said, "You'll be the first to know if we ever change our minds about it."

  "Fair enough."

  We all sat there for a moment. Finally, Sam asked, "So, do we shake on it? I don't know the protocol for being a snubbed third."

  We all laughed at that.

  . . .

  Apparently, the hospital had taken me at my word about handling the bill because Razzie was in a very nice private room on a high floor. When we stepped out of the elevator, Sam made a beeline for the nurse who was sitting at a desk in front of the hallway that led to a row of private rooms. She was about 50 or so and had fading red hair pinned up under her nurse's cap. Her mouth was set in a way that indicated she meant business and wasn't taking guff from anyone.

  "May I help you?" Her voice was clear, firm, and a little tired.

  "We're here to see Mr. Laframboise." Sam pronounced the name perfectly and added some additional words in French. Although I couldn't see his face, I guessed he was grinning at her based
on the way she suddenly blushed.

  "Well, are you members of the family?"

  "In a way, yes."

  The firmness in her voice got a little more obvious. "In what particular way, may I ask?"

  Sam took off his hat and held it in his hands like a penitent schoolboy. "It's such a sad case. Mr. Laframboise has no family. They were all killed in the war." He added in a significant but noncommittal way. "Maybe you've seen his scars?"

  The nurse nodded, her hand covering her mouth. "Yes. It's terrible."

  "The Gestapo, you know." That was a lie, as far as I knew, and I was beginning to wonder why Sam wasn't mentioning the fact that Dr. Watts had asked us to come up.

  "Yes." She shook her head. "Well, the poor man is frantic. The stroke, you know."

  "Yes. That is why we're here. I speak French." He added several words in French and her blush was back. I had to admit it was sexy. He then reached over, took her hand, and kissed it in the French way.

  She took back her hand, giggled, and stood. "Right this way, gentlemen. Can't stay too long, of course."

  Carter and I nodded as we followed Sam who had offered his arm to the nurse. They pranced down the hall like old lovers. We followed in their wake. She stopped in front of Room 713 and knocked on the door. "You have visitors," she called in a sing-song voice.

  Sam turned, kissed her hand again, and said, "My thanks, Mademoiselle, for your help with this." His accent was getting more Frenchified by the moment. She blushed again and nodded. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes to check up on you."

  "Merci," was Sam's breathy reply.

  With another slight giggle, the nurse turned and made her way back to her desk.

  Before Sam could open the door, Carter put himself bodily in front of it. "What gives, Sam? Why didn't you tell her that Dr. Watts called us?"

  Sam shrugged. "I want to talk to the man alone."

  I shook my head along with Carter. "No. We're going in with you. Your job is to translate."

  Sam nodded and said, "Fine. Let's go."

  Carter opened the door and led us in. The one single bed was close to the rain-streaked window. There was a television mounted on the wall. Razzie was watching it with interest, but the sound was turned all the way down. I couldn't imagine what sort of drivel would be showing in the middle of the morning.

  When he saw me, he smiled and began to speak. Carter and I walked up to the side of the bed while Sam stood at the foot. Once Razzie had stopped speaking, he shrugged.