The Timid Traitor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 10)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  . . .

  My father had no way of knowing, but the private dining room he had us tucked away in at the Old Poodle Dog was the same one that Carter and I had been in seven months earlier when one of the local mobsters had tried to lean on us.

  The restaurant was just a few doors down from the back entrance to our building on Post. It was a storied institution with quite a past. The food was good and the service was even better.

  Once our orders were placed and the wine had been poured, my father said, "I'm glad you're all here. We wanted to talk with you about a decision we've made."

  I looked around the table. Alex and Marnie were practically glowing in each other's presence. The honeymoon phase was still in full play, which was a wonderful thing.

  My father was smiling and happy. Lettie was looking at him adoringly, which made me happy. He'd been a real bastard most of the time I'd known him, so I was glad to see some real love in his life. Lettie was a force of nature. There were no two ways about it. I'd seen her work miracles, but the one she'd done with my father was closer to raising the dead than anything else.

  Carter reached over and took my hand in his. In the few days since we'd met Jake in Paris, Carter had been increasingly more physically demonstrative with me in public. I was liking it a lot. It felt good.

  My father frowned slightly at what he saw but then smiled again. He turned to Marnie and said, "My dear, I hope you know that I consider you to be my second daughter. To that end, Lettie and I have decided to name you as our sole heir."

  I smiled as Marnie's mouth dropped open. Alex's eyes widened in surprise.

  My father continued, "Obviously, Nicholas needs no legacy." He looked over at me and smiled.

  To my surprise, I could feel a tear come up and begin to make its way down my left cheek. The affection in his smile was tangible and, compared to most of my life, unusual. I nodded and said, "This is good news, Father."

  He nodded and turned back to Marnie. "As such, I have already settled about a third of my estate on you in a trust. You'll need to go down to the Bank of America in the few days to sign some documents. But the money is there for you to use as you see fit. Including,"—he looked over at Alex—"buying a house if you're so inclined. There's more than enough for that, and more."

  Alex said, "But, Mr. Williams, we already live in Marnie's house in Eureka Valley." Alex didn't know that I had bought that house for Marnie and her mother back in the summer of '53. At first, I was renting it to her, but after a few months of that, I handed over to her. That made a lot more sense. To me, at least.

  My father nodded. "Of course, and it's a fine one. I'm just suggesting you might want to explore the possibilities."

  I watched Alex and Marnie exchange glances, mostly of confusion. I asked, "Can you tell Marnie how much you're settling on her?"

  My father smiled and said, "Of course. That would be helpful, wouldn't it?" Clearing his throat, he said, "It's just under half a million."

  Marnie gasped. I looked over at Lettie. She was smiling gleefully. I knew she was truly in love with my father, but I also knew she had a mind like a trap and that securing Marnie's future been part of her plan all along. I agreed with it. Without reservation.

  I'd happily have given Marnie that much or more if she would have accepted it. I suspected they'd already tried to give the couple some sort of dowry beyond the usual wedding gifts and that Marnie and Alex had refused. Settling a part of his estate was one way for my father to get around that. And, knowing my father, there had to be a tax benefit for doing it that way.

  I was also relieved because I had already had a couple of conversations with Kenneth about how to give Marnie whatever I might inherit from my father if he died before he could change his will. It could be done, but it would have been a big mess.

  "I don't know what to say, Mr. Williams," said Alex. He paused and kissed Marnie on the cheek. "Other than to thank you."

  Lettie said, "That's more than sufficient, Alex."

  . . .

  After our salad was served, Marnie asked me, "Can you tell us what happened to Annie?"

  Before I could say anything, Carter spoke up. "Let me take a stab at it." He gave an outline of the events that had happened since the day when Razzie's apartment had been ransacked. Once he got to our arrival in Paris, he rounded it out by saying, "We gave the police our statement. They held onto the plane to investigate and then we got it back Friday afternoon. We left Paris on Saturday, stayed overnight in Boston, and got home Sunday afternoon."

  I added, "And slept in yesterday."

  Alex asked, "Do you mind if I tell my parents about all of this?" His folks were both French and worked at the City of Paris store.

  I nodded. "Go ahead. They probably know most of it already."

  Marnie said, "We had dinner with them last night. They know parts of it, but they also told us about what happened to you, Nick."

  "What do you mean?"

  "They heard about how you had lunch in a cafe and that you were recognized as the man who brought her to justice." She smiled at me as if she were proud of that fact.

  I nodded. I didn't know what to say.

  "It's hard to explain, Marnie, but that wasn't a good day." That was Carter.

  She frowned in concern. "Why's that?"

  My father cleared his throat. "Perhaps it was because it's very hard to be the man who brings someone to justice when you can so easily see both sides of the story. I heard the same thing from Mr. Veladier on Sunday. He wanted me to tell you how sorry he is that you had to become involved in a very tragic tale."

  I looked up at my father in surprise. His eyes were soft and loving. His face was full of concern.

  I said, "Those were the people who left her for dead on the street."

  Alex said, "But she was a collaborator."

  "I know. She was a collaborator and a traitor. But she was also a human being." I wanted a Camel all of a sudden. As if he could read my mind, Carter took my hand in his again and propped it up on the table. I looked at him and then turned to my father. "Carter said it best. War is hell."

  My father nodded and said, "That it is, my son. That it is."

  . . .

  "Did you remember to bring the gifts?" That was Carter. He was asking as he was pulling his Mercury into our driveway on Hartford. Based on what we could see from the headlights, the new house was coming together.

  "Yes, Chief. And that's the second time you've asked me. You're so nervous. Why?"

  He killed the engine and set the brake. "Do you know how hard it was to find something for Pam?"

  "I was with you when you found it."

  "Do you think she'll like it?"

  I laughed. "Anyone would think you were gonna propose to her."

  He gave me the best response to my comment. We sat in the car necking until the windows steamed up. In the cold winter evening, that didn't take long.

  . . .

  I knocked on the door at Evelyn's house. Carter was holding the bag of gifts we'd brought the gals from Paris.

  Evelyn opened the door. The smell of dinner cooking escaped the house and settled over us. She smiled and said, "Welcome home, boys. Come on in."

  As we walked in, she asked, "Take your coats?" It was a cold evening and we were both wearing overcoats. After hanging them on the rack along with our hats, we took a moment to exchange hugs.

  "What's that?"

  Carter lifted up the bag and said, "Just a few things we picked up in Paris."

  Evelyn smiled. I looked at her for a moment to see if I could tell how she was feeling.

  She caught me and said, "The doctor said you won't be able to see anything until my kidneys start failing and my skin becomes jaundice. I don't plan on waiting that long."

  I was taken aback by her directness even as I admired her decisiveness. I gave her a second hug and whispered, "I love you, Evelyn."

  She laughed, kissed my cheek, and said, "I love you, too, Nick. And I'm not dead yet
, so let's eat."

  . . .

  While we were eating, Carter turned to Pam and asked, "Did you get everything straightened out up in Idaho?"

  She picked at her green beans. "Sort of."

  I asked, "Can you tell us what happened?"

  She looked over at me and sighed. "I'm so fucking sorry, Nick."

  I sat back. "For what?"

  "For telling you to mind your own business."

  Carter put his hand in mine and propped it on the table. "You can tell him to mind his own business anytime you want."

  I called out, "Hey!" as everyone else laughed.

  Pam smiled and continued, "I really could've used your help."

  Diane piped up. "But you would've been so proud of her, Nick. She really stood up to those mobsters."

  Mary added, "And did her twenty-four hours in county jail like a pro."

  "Jail?" I asked.

  Pam nodded. "The county sheriff was in the mob's pocket."

  "How did it end?"

  Diane said, "We got the state police involved, and they did some housecleaning."

  Pam added, "But I don't think we'll be back up there again anytime soon."

  "How so?" I asked.

  Diane took Pam's hand. "Her family was more embarrassed about Pam coming to town than they were upset about possibly losing their house."

  Mary shook her head and muttered, "Some people."

  I nodded. "Yeah." I looked around the table and laughed.

  Evelyn asked, "What?"

  "You've gotta be more careful about your guest list in the future, Evelyn. Half your dinner guests have been in jail."

  She shook her head. "Diane is the only one of us who hasn't been to jail."

  I smiled. "Really?"

  Mary said, "Evelyn and I were in jail right after you left. We got picked up in a raid."

  "Did you call Kenneth?" I asked.

  Mary nodded. "He got the judge to drop the charges."

  "Good. Where'd it happen?"

  "Over in Oakland at Mary's First and Last Chance."

  Carter asked, "What were you doing over there?" Since Carter had arrived in San Francisco, he'd developed a distaste for anything over in Oakland. According to Henry, it had to do with some guy Henry had once dated who had lived over there in the hills.

  Mary replied, "We were visiting friends. You know, Carter, Oakland is a very nice place."

  He shrugged. "There's no there, there."

  We all laughed.

  . . .

  Once we'd had dessert, Carter brought out the gifts and handed them out.

  Diane went first. Hers was in a small cream-colored box. "What is this?"

  Carter answered, "Perfume."

  She lifted the bottle out of its box. It said, "Eau de Joy," and was a short round job with a red lid. She opened it and had a sniff. "Ooh! It's beautiful."

  Passing it around, everyone agreed except Pam. She rolled her eyes and said, "Too girly for me."

  Diane sniffed. "Well, then, I guess you'll have to sleep on the couch tonight."

  Pam sighed. "I'm sure it'll smell great on you."

  Diane leaned over and gave Pam a kiss.

  We all laughed as Pam opened her box. She lifted up a dark green coat and looked at it. "What is it?"

  Carter laughed nervously, which was truly a first. He said, "It seemed like every construction worker in Paris was wearing one. So I bought one that was full in the chest. Because, well, you know."

  I took his hand. It was sweaty.

  She beamed at him as she stood up to pull it on. She turned around in a circle as if she was modeling a dress. All the other gals seemed to like it. She walked over, leaned down, and gave Carter a kiss on the cheek.

  "Hey!" I called out.

  "What?"

  "I'm the one who found the store."

  She laughed and gave me a kiss, too.

  Mary opened her box and pulled out a forest green angora sweater. It had a particular kind of collar that was wide in the shoulder but narrow in the chest. It seemed like all the well-dressed women had been sporting one as we'd walked around the city. She held it up to her chest and grinned. "Oh, I just love it."

  Evelyn reached over and felt the fabric. "Very nice. And the color is perfect on you."

  Mary nodded. "What about yours?"

  Opening her box, Evelyn laughed. "I think we got matching dyke sweaters." Turning to me, she asked, "Did you meet a lesbian in Paris?"

  I shook my head. "No, it was our friend Jake's idea. He gave us the address for the store. I hope you like the color."

  She pulled the sweater to her chest. Hers was a cerulean blue. Mary gasped. "That color is perfect for you, honey."

  Pam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Goddam femmes."

  We all laughed.

  . . .

  "Jake?"

  "Hi, Nick. How are you?"

  There was a lot of static on the line. But I could hear him clearly. It was 2 in the morning on Wednesday. I'd had trouble sleeping so I'd decided to walk downstairs to the office and call Jake. It was 11 in the morning in Paris.

  "Good. I'm calling about the job."

  "Yes?"

  "Would you and Antoine be interested in moving here?"

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

  "Jake?"

  "Sorry about that." I heard him sniff. "Yes. We'd really love that."

  "I have a job for both of you." I explained what they would be doing. "What do you think?"

  "Yes! That would be perfect for both of us. Hold on. Antoine has been listening. He wants to talk to you."

  I waited.

  "Nick?" Even over the static, Antoine's voice was deep and resonant.

  "Hi, Antoine. Would you like that job?"

  "Yes. This is a dream come true. I always want to go to America. And to work in a gymnasium. That is marvelous."

  "Fine. But did you understand that I want you to manage the gym? To run it."

  I heard Jake say something in French to Antoine who said, "Oh, yes. Perfect. This I can do. I will manage. Yes."

  I laughed. "Great. Jake, get in touch with Kenneth Wilcox. He already knows what I wanna do. He'll take care of the legal part. Do you know someone at the embassy who can help Antoine?"

  "Yes. But, it may take a few months before we can get there."

  "That's fine. You're both on the payroll as of now. I'll wire you a couple of months salary with a little bonus. Send a telegram to the office with your bank information today. Remember, we're nine hours behind you."

  "Will do, Nick. Thanks so much!"

  "You're welcome, kid. Welcome to the team."

  . . .

  I crawled back into bed next to Carter. He stirred and put his arm around me. "You call Jake?"

  "Yeah. They're on board. I don't know who's gonna manage the gym until Antoine gets here, though. It might be a few months."

  "How 'bout Ferdinand?"

  I laughed. "It's a gym, not a prison."

  Carter pulled me in close. "He might surprise you."

  We lay there for a long while. A log in the fireplace fell and sent sparks up the chimney. Carter stirred, turned on his side, and began to kiss me.

  After a while, I said, "You are..." I had so many things I wanted to say, but they all sounded corny or silly. How could I put into words all that he meant to me? How could I tell him how grateful I was to be sharing a life with him?"

  "I'm what?" he drowsily asked.

  "You're the top."

  He laughed.

  "You're the Coliseum."

  He began to hum the song.

  "You're the top. You're the Louvre Museum."

  He kept humming while I began to laugh. I said as many of the lines as I could remember. Finally, he sat up and looked at me. "I wouldn't trade a single moment with you for anything or anyone or anywhere."

  I looked at him. His blond hair glowed in the firelight. He smiled down at me, and I could feel something deep within me sigh
with joy and contentment. No matter what happened during the day, we always had the nights, and they were always good.

  "I love you, Carter Woodrow Wilson Jones."

  He leaned down, bit my ear, and whispered, "I love you too, Nicholas Williams."

  Author's Note

  Thank you for buying and reading this book!

  This story, like all the others involving Nick & Carter, came to me out of thin air.

  Many thanks, as always, to everyone who has read, reviewed, and emailed me about the Nick & Carter books. It is deeply gratifying in ways that words will never be able to fully express. Thank you.

  Acknowledgments

  I relied upon William J. Mann's biography of William (Billy) Haines, Wisecracker: The Life and Times of William Haines, Hollywood's First Openly Gay Star, for certain small details regarding Billy and his relationship with Joan Crawford. I didn't try, nor would I even attempt to try, capturing his witty and charming persona to which the title of his biography points. In this story, it felt more accurate to show a man on a mission. I hope I have done him some justice. As always, any mistakes made in his portrayal are mine alone.

  I also want to acknowledge and thank with deep appreciation my friend Edward Vilga whose late night calls helped shape some of the telling of this story. Besides being a delightful person in his own right, he pointed me to Billy's biography and gave me several ideas.

  Finally, I want to once again profoundly thank David Tangredi for his support and inspiration in helping me stay plugged into the universe that Nick & Carter inhabit.

  Historical Notes

  This book takes place from Tuesday, January 11, 1955, through Tuesday, February 3, 1955.

  The primary characters are all fictional. There are, however, several historical persons and locales portrayed in a fictional manner.

  As I first mentioned in The Mangled Mobster, Nick's new office building at 600 Market Street is right in the middle of what is now McKesson Plaza at 1 Post Street. In 1955, the Crocker Building stood at that location. It was an eleven-story building in a flatiron design that was completed in 1891. It was demolished in the late 60s to make way for McKesson Plaza.