The Amorous Attorney (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 2)

by Frank W. Butterfield

"No!" Carter was coming up the stairs as I said this.

  "No one leaves this house until everyone has had breakfast!"

  Everyone in the room laughed.

  . . .

  I gave Marnie $500 to take to Western Union to send to Jeffery. I also told her to send him a telegram saying we would meet him there on Monday and that he was not to leave until we got there.

  I wasn't sure how wiring money into Mexico worked, so I hoped it would get there before we did.

  Meanwhile, there was Robert. Poor Robert. Such a cute kid. And used in a shameless way by Jeffery. He knew, we all knew, that Jeffery was down there with Taylor.

  But, still, the kid stuck with us as we decided what to do.

  While Marnie was gone, I called Ralph, my travel agent, at home. I wondered where in the wide world Carlo and Ben had gone for their honeymoon.

  Ralph answered, "Atlanta Railroad Depot, where the South ends. It's your dime. Go ahead."

  I laughed. "Hi there, it's Nick Williams."

  "Nick! You gorgeous man! How are you? Those two cuties you sent to me on Monday. Dreamboats!"

  "Yeah. That's why I'm calling. Where did you send them?"

  "Well, you know Nick, I really had to rack my brain for the best spot that was easy to get to and where they wouldn't harass them for being two single boys who really wanted to sleep in a double bed, so I talked it over with Roxy." She was his secretary, confidante, and beard, as needed. "And she reminded me of that place in Ensenada run by the mistress of the man from Detroit who married her Mexican boyfriend, who I hear is quite dreamy himself, and she said they were already breaking so many of the commandments, who would even notice?"

  Ralph didn't need to breathe, apparently. He just kept talking until he was done. It was never wise to interrupt him because he did drop all sorts of nuggets, so I just listened.

  "The Riviera del Pacifico?"

  "Right! How did you ever know?"

  "Lucky guess. When do they check out?"

  "Let me see. Oh yes, tomorrow."

  "How is the phone service down there?"

  "Oh, clear as a bell. I called down there myself on Monday to make sure they would have the best room, since I knew that's what you would want for them. Are you now keeping a stable of boys for your pleasure, or was this just an act of charity? And how is that lovely hunk of a man named Carter? You know I love his milk and peaches voice. I was telling the Roxy the other day about how dreamy he is. You should send him over one day so she can see because she didn't believe he really is as tall as he is. She's just jealous of course because her last boyfriend was 5'7" and that was only if he stood up on a small box. So, yes, you should be able to call down without any problem. I have the phone number right here, do you want it?"

  "Yes." I was trying not to laugh.

  "Here you go, you gorgeous man, you, and so rich. And so nice. They hardly go together like those hateful Hearsts and thank you very much for finally saying what so many of us have been thinking for years. It's 349."

  "What's 349?"

  "The phone number of the hotel, silly."

  "Oh, right. Thanks Ralph. Gotta run."

  "Bye, you handsome man."

  The line went dead. I took a deep breath and clicked on the switch hook.

  I wondered how much this would cost, remembered I was a millionaire many times over, and dialed the operator.

  "Operator."

  "International long distance."

  "One moment."

  I heard a couple of clicks then a slightly fainter voice.

  "International. Number please."

  "Ensenada, Mexico 349."

  "Ensenada, Mexico 349," the voice repeated.

  "That's right."

  "One moment."

  I thought of Marnie. "Oh, and operator?"

  "Yes?"

  "Time and charges, please."

  "Yes sir. Hold please."

  I heard a click.

  "Sorry, all lines into Mexico are busy. Shall I try again now?"

  "One more time, please."

  "Hold please."

  One more click.

  "I'm sorry, all lines are still busy. Shall I try again in fifteen minutes?"

  "Yes, please. Thank you operator."

  "Thank you."

  The line went dead.

  I walked back into the kitchen. "Well, kids," I announced to the assembled group. "Turns out Ben and Carlo are staying at the same hotel."

  Robert sniffed. "They must be getting quite a crowd down there this time of year. I hope Jeffery doesn't mind being with all the hoi polloi."

  I looked over at Mike, who was not looking happy. Carter put his hand on Mike's and said, "Robert. Ben and Carlo are associates of ours. They're having a honeymoon of sorts."

  Robert brightened up and said, "How wonderful!" He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. This kid had it bad. I knew he was picking out the registry items for his dream wedding with Jeffery and decorating the chapel in his head. I shook my head.

  The door opened announcing Marnie's return. She clacked her way through the living room and into the kitchen. "Boy, this neighborhood sure is full of those mah jong ladies, ain't it?" She took off her hat by unpinning it and then ran her hands through her locks.

  "Have a seat Marnie and tell us about it." I leaned against the counter behind Carter and waited. I knew it was going to be good.

  "Well, I kinda got lost. I should have gone right out the door instead of left, so I ended up walking around the block and up Castro. What a crowd on a Saturday! Anyway, when I was walking past a group of ladies who were standing there in front of the movie theater with their baskets just gossiping a mile a minute, I heard your name, Nick."

  I smiled. "Yes?"

  "So, I guess your cover is blown. They all knew about you and about Carter and about the trust and that Uncle Paul of yours and they just went on and on."

  Carter asked, "Did they mention how handsome I am?"

  "Yes! One of them said her Laura was just right for you and that's what you needed and how unnatural it was for two men to live together and who knew what was going on in here."

  Mike laughed. "What about Nick? How did he fare?"

  Marnie hesitated. "Well... It was kinda embarrassing and, you know me, Nick, I think you and Carter and Mike here and Robert and Jeffery... All you fellas are wonderful and I think everyone should be left alone to live their own lives as they see fit as long as they don't hurt no one."

  She looked at me. I said, "Just spill it, Marnie."

  "Well... they said you oughta be arrested and put away, that you were probably sick and needed treatment. One of 'em even said she'd met your Uncle Paul and that he was a decrepit man and seemed odd and strange. Then another one of 'em said it was all on account of you being a Williams and how the whole clan is crazy."

  I laughed and said, "She was right about that."

  Mike said, "Yeah, but did any of them think Nick was handsome? That's the real question, Marnie."

  She looked down and shook her head.

  Carter pushed his chair back, stood up, and wrapped his arm around me. He said, "Well, I do." Mike said, "Me, too." Robert just nodded.

  Carter said, "Now do you think it's OK for me to call Nick my husband, Marnie?"

  She looked at me and nodded. Then she stood up and ran into the living room.

  Mike stood up. "Let me. I need to do some penance for being so rough on you this morning, Nick." I smiled at him and nodded as he walked down the hallway.

  The phone rang. I reluctantly pulled out of Carter's arms and went to grab it.

  "Yeah?"

  "I have your call ready for Ensenada Mexico."

  "Thank you, operator."

  "Go ahead Ensenada."

  I heard a couple of clicks and then a pretty voice with a heavy accent said, "Ensenada here. You may begin."

  I heard a fainter voice say, "This is Hotel Riviera del Pacifico, how may I help you?"

  It was an American voice. A wo
man. I wondered if this is who Ralph had been talking about.

  "I'm trying to reach Ben White, please."

  There was silence on the other end.

  "Hello? Are you there?"

  "Yes sir. Those guests are out of their room. Can I leave a message?"

  "Yes. Well, first... If they were to need to stay for another few days, do you have room for them."

  "Certainly, sir. This is the low season right now."

  The voice was wavy.

  "I'll send a telegram then. Wait!"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "What about Jeffery Klein?"

  There was a pause.

  "Are you a friend?"

  "Yes."

  "May I ask your name?"

  I wondered at this.

  "Nick Williams."

  "Ah, yes, Mr. Williams. A real pleasure. Yes, he and, um, the other party are here."

  "Have you received the telegram for him that I sent this morning?"

  There was a shuffling sound.

  "Not yet."

  "Well, thank you, Miss..."

  "Mrs. Rocha."

  "Thank you Mrs. Rocha. Goodbye."

  I put the phone down and waited. In about twenty seconds, it rang.

  "Yeah?"

  "Time and charges, sir."

  "Go ahead"

  "Two minutes. $2.20."

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  I walked back into the kitchen. Marnie followed me in from the living room.

  I asked the assembled group, "Who wants to go to Ensenada?"

  Chapter 11

  Hotel Riviera del Pacifico

  Ensenada, Mex.

  Monday, May 25, 1953

  Afternoon

  The Hotel Riviera del Pacifico was a low-slung affair, with a central tower, painted a bright white with curved terracotta roof tiles in the Mediterranean style. As the taxi pulled around and deposited us in front, a florid man in a red uniform with bright buttons came forward to open the door.

  It was just Carter and myself, after all. I had sent Ben a telegram asking them to stay three extra days. I had received a telegram reply from Jeffery that said, "Fine by me."

  Mike was all set to get on the plane to San Diego with us on Monday, but he got an early morning call from his captain asking him to come in and talk about the suspension. I'd asked him if he wanted to go back and his reply was, "Hell, no." That made me happy.

  The florid man said, "Welcome to the hotel, gentlemen." His accent was very slight. It sounded like he had lived in the States at one point. "You'll find the reception desk to your right, just inside. We'll bring in your baggage and escort you to your room when you are ready."

  I reached for my wallet but the man said, "I will pay for your taxi. It will be added to your bill."

  I said, "Fine. Thanks."

  He tipped his hat. "My pleasure, Mr. Williams."

  He looked up at Carter. "Mr. Jones. Welcome to you, too."

  We both lifted our hats and then walked inside.

  The air outside was wet. That was the best way to put it. Wet and hot. I was already sweating. I'd brought my lightest weight coat and trousers, but they felt heavy in this climate.

  We walked inside. It was cooler. But still wet. There was a dark-haired woman standing at the reception desk. I assumed this was Mrs. Rocha, Miss Marjorie King Plant that was, who had been given the hotel by the man who called her his mistress, She had then married her Mexican boyfriend, a well-connected lawyer with political ambitions named Alfonso. The story was that they married for business reasons. She had to be a Mexican citizen to manage the hotel. But then they fell in love. This caused a number of problems, including lawsuits. Marnie had dug all this up for me on Sunday, although I had no idea how. I liked this gal already even though we'd only spoken on the phone once.

  "Mr. Williams? And Mr. Jones?" She was very pretty. Tall and slim, she had dark eyes, and a welcoming smile.

  Carter said, "Yes, ma'am." He lifted his hat slowly. He was using his 4-star southern hospitality accent.

  "Oh, a southerner no less." She charmed him right back.

  "Yes, ma'am." There it was again.

  "Mr. Williams, will you sign here?" She smiled at me but then looked up at Carter, not disguising her interest in him one bit. How could I blame her? He was the most handsome man in North America.

  I signed the book and asked, "Do I have any messages?"

  She reached behind and pulled two keys and a note from a little box marked 102.

  "Here you go." I looked at it. It was from Ben. "Room 106. Knock first."

  "I put you gentlemen in an ocean-front suite along the same row as your associates. Your other friends are in the suite in between. I trust that will be satisfactory?"

  I looked up at Carter since that's what she was doing. He actually looked a little tongue-tied. "Well, Mr. Jones? Will that be satisfactory?" I asked him.

  "What? Oh sure! Sounds good."

  I asked, "What time is dinner?"

  "We start serving at 6:30 in the main dining room. But I've arranged a private dinner for you, Mr. Jones, Mr. Martinelli, Mr. White, and your two other friends. I thought you might want to have some private time alone with each other. What time would you like to dine, do you think?"

  "How about 7?" I looked at my watch. It was 5. Plenty of time for a shower and other leisurely activities before dinner.

  "That will be fine. I'll let your other friends know."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Rocha."

  "Oh, we're informal here at the beach. Just call me Marge. All my friends do." She was now looking at Carter. He replied, "Then you can call me Carter, if you like." He was now at a 5-star level with the honey.

  No one asked me what my name was, so I turned around to find the florid man waiting with a couple of young kids all nattily dressed in bellman uniforms. They were holding our bags and sweating.

  I handed the key to the older man, who looked at it and said something in Spanish to the older of the two kids as he passed it over. "Follow Miguel. He and Rodrigo will show you to your room."

  I put out my hand with a folded five and asked, "And your name is?"

  He graciously took the bill and said, "My name is Roberto."

  "Thank you, Roberto."

  He tipped his hat again. "My pleasure, Mr. Williams. Mr. Jones." He never took his eyes off me and I could feel that little something that happens when someone finds you attractive. I smiled and then followed Miguel and Rodrigo through the hotel and out to our room.

  Suite 102 was the last of a series of rooms in a line that faced the ocean. To get there from the lobby, we walked out a door back into the heat of the day, followed a walkway that then ended and went either right to the beach or left back towards other rooms. We followed Miguel to the right and then came around a corner. The first suite was 108. There were four on this row and all faced the ocean and had immediate beach access, as the travel brochures called it.

  When Miguel opened the door to 102 and let us in, I noticed that it was actually very similar to the bungalows at the Beverly Hills Hotel. There was a nicely appointed sitting room. I remember that Marnie has said that, when Marge had taken over, they had renovated and redecorated the whole place. It did have that cool modern feel to it that was showing up in more and more places. You couldn't call this room homey, but you might call it chic, if you knew what that meant.

  The bedroom had two double beds. Rodrigo put the bags on wooden folding stands.

  Miguel was showing Carter how the facilities in the bathroom worked. No words were passed, just demonstrating by doing and going through the motions. The hot water heater had to be lit to work, and Miguel was showing Carter how to do that when there was a knock at the door.

  I turned and saw that it was Jeffery. He looked like he'd lost a little weight. He was brown and looking better than he had in years. It wasn't that he'd ever looked bad, but sitting behind a desk had caused him to put on a few pounds. Well, they were gone now. And i
n just a few days.

  He was wearing a loose white shirt that was blowing in the ocean breeze. It was a daring look but it worked. His pants were just some baggy khakis and on his feet were an odd kind of sandal I'd never seen before.

  He stood there for a moment as we looked at each other. I realized how much I really loved this man and how happy I was to see him. He nodded at me and then jutted his chin out towards my left. I turned and saw Miguel and Rodrigo standing there, expectantly. I handed them each a folded five. They reacted with surprise, but then pocketed the bills and were on their way out.

  Carter said, "Jeffery, you look good, my friend."

  He smiled and said, "Thanks Carter. You both look hot."

  I took off my coat and my hat and pulled off my tie. "I am. I didn't realize this was going be like being back in New Guinea."

  "But without the surprise raids by the Japs, right?"

  "Right." I just grinned at the man. He came over and pulled me into a hug.

  "I'm so sorry, Jeffery."

  He pulled me in tighter. "Me, too, Nick. Me, too." He pulled back and kissed me on my cheek.

  I looked over and Carter was smiling. It made me feel good.

  . . .

  Jeffery said, "Why did you bring a wool coat with you to Mexico?"

  "Because I live in San Francisco. I don't have anything lighter. I'm not part of the Palm Beach crowd, you know."

  We were sitting at the empty bar. We left Carter to do the unpacking and to take a shower. I wanted to talk to Jeffery alone. So, we were drinking a dark beer called Negra Modelo. I liked it.

  "Are you still in love, Jeffery?"

  He nodded. "And I'm happy. For the first time that I can remember."

  I offered my glass of beer and he clinked it in reply with his. "I'm glad to hear that."

  Not wanting to name names, I said, "And how about him? Is he happy?"

  Jeffery's face fell. "No. He's not. If you hadn't come down here, I would have already sent him back to L.A."

  I looked over and asked, "Really?"

  "Yes. He needs to work. And the only way he's going to be happy in the long run is to go back and get on the set and marry that Rhonda." He took a drink. "She's not that bad."

  "Have you met her?"

  "Oh, sure. She's here. With her girlfriend. They're in 108. Your boy toys are in 106. And we're in 104. It's 'queer row' out there by the beach."