The Amorous Attorney (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 2)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Obviously. The bullet tells me so. As it told you when you saw it."

  I nodded. He looked at me carefully, again.

  "And who is your third suspect?"

  I paused and tried to be real clear about the next words I said. "The Federal Deputy Maldonado." As soon as I said his name, a shadow passed over the captain's face. "He was here last night with three friends."

  The captain stuck out his chin. "Then I think you must recognize one of them now?"

  At first I thought he was saying that he was the one I'd seen. But, that couldn't be so. The other one was not as trim as the captain. "Well, the face is familiar."

  He grinned. "Yes, that is my brother you saw. Adelberto." He paused. "So, you think it is possible he is the one?"

  "I don't know. But he showed me his pistol."

  "And you saw the Colt, correct?"

  I nodded.

  "They all have them. I think they stole them in California. Perhaps in San Diego."

  I nodded and felt like I had successfully walked through the minefield.

  He looked at me and then smiled. "I think I will like working with the infamous homosexual, Mr. Nicholas Williams."

  With that, he turned and indicated I should walk in front of him as we left the suite.

  When we came out into the bright morning sun, I saw Carter walking down the path. I looked back at the captain, who was still handsome, but the spell was broken. He smiled at me and handed me a card. "Please call me as soon as you have any insight into the contents of that book. My office and my home phone are there. Call me anytime." It sounded like a come on.

  Carter was now standing a few feet away. I looked up at him and saw a wry expression on his face. I said, "Captain, this is my friend, Carter Jones." The two shook hands as the captain introduced himself. Carter looked at me and winked. It was devastating. It reminded me of the first time I'd had sex on board ship. It was with one of the mates and he knew better and I knew better but our chemistry was electric.

  I looked at the captain again and heard him saying, "Please, call me Nacho. And, would you both do me the honor of having dinner at my home this evening?" That was a surprise.

  I nodded and said, "That would be very nice, thank you." A veil suddenly fell over the captain's face. "Yes, my wife, Rosalinda, she will be very happy to meet two such handsome Americans."

  I smiled and wondered at this turn. "That sounds fine."

  "I will send a car for you at 8."

  I nodded. He put on his hat and saluted. "Good morning to you both." With that, he walked back into the suite.

  . . .

  Once we were back in our suite and the door was closed, I pushed Carter against the wall and began to unbutton his shirt. He just smiled at me indulgently. "That was some show out there, boy. You have it bad for the captain, don't you?"

  I was stunned. "Was it that obvious?"

  "You bet. He was playing you like a fiddle, too." He looked down at me with his slow Georgia grin.

  "I gave him the receipts and the photograph. But he let me keep the black book I found in the nightstand. He wants me to..."

  Carter pushed me towards the bedroom. "Come on, son. Let me remind you who your husband is. I'll make you forget that captain so fast, you'll wonder what happened."

  And he did.

  . . .

  After we were all cleaned up and dressed, I asked Carter what Marge had told him.

  We were sitting in the sitting room. I was next to him on the sofa. We were holding hands.

  He said, "She didn't know much. The captain is with the state police. The state police are a new organization. She thought it would be the municipals who would come in. That's who she says are already in the pay of that what's his name."

  "Maldonado."

  "Right. And she also said that your captain buddy has a brother who is one of those pistol guys. Just like you thought. Was he as handsome as the captain?"

  I looked over at him and said, "Does that bother you?"

  He reached his arm around me and pulled me in close against his body. He still smelled like soap. "No. We'll probably always have our little attractions like that. Doesn't make sense to make a big deal about it."

  That was mighty broadminded. "Who was your last attraction?" I figured that in six years, there had to more than one.

  "I think you know."

  I shook my head. "No. I haven't been paying attention, I guess."

  He laughed. "Vincent."

  "That gas jockey at the Chevron?"

  "Yep."

  He was a short, compact kid who had just gotten back from his stint in the Army. He was working for a relative, an uncle I thought, who owned the Chevron station at the corner of Castro and Market. I didn't think he was any great shakes.

  "That little kid?"

  "Yep. Who was your last one?"

  I thought about it. I hadn't had one.

  "No one. Not since I met you."

  He pulled in me in tighter. "Well, I guess we need to come down to Mexico more often. First Roberto..."

  "What? You saw that?"

  "Sure. He's handsome, in a way."

  "Not to me."

  "These Mexican men seem to go for you, son. Wonder what that is?"

  I reached up and pulled his face towards me and began to kiss him in response.

  . . .

  We were still in this basic position when there was a knock on the door. I stood up, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. I was in no state to receive guests. It was rude of me to leave Carter alone, in a similar state, but I did.

  I heard the kid from the reception desk talking. "There's a call for Mr. Williams from San Francisco."

  Carter replied. "He'll be right there. Thanks."

  I came out of the bathroom, now presentable, and walked towards the door.

  Carter grabbed me and pulled me against him. "That ring is all about how much I love you. That will never change Nick. I'm going to remind you of this every day from here on out."

  I looked up at him and said, "I love you, too. Now more than ever." We stood there for a minute and I felt the warmth of his body and the strength in it and how perfect the moment was.

  . . .

  Marnie was waiting on the line when I finally got to the lobby. I was back in the second booth, with the door open, and Carter was standing there listening.

  "I couldn't find out anything about your friend, Nick. Sorry."

  "So, no one knows anything?"

  "They never heard of him."

  "Thanks, doll. Anything else I need to know?"

  "Yeah, Mike told me to tell you he will be arriving there about 6 tonight."

  "Did he go to Ralph for everything?"

  "He sure did."

  "Great. Thanks, doll."

  I put the receiver down.

  "Mike's on his way. Let's go talk to Marge."

  I walked over and saw that she was talking to the captain. Carter whispered, "Steady, son."

  I whispered back. "Cut that out."

  "Yes, Boss."

  The captain saw us coming and stood up a bit straighter as he did. I suddenly saw something in him I had failed to notice before. We were like a promise of something he could have that we might offer. Not us, per se. And, definitely not me, as far as I was concerned. But an idea. His eyes lit up as we got closer.

  "Gentlemen. A pleasure to meet you again. Do not forget about our dinner tonight. My Rosalinda is very excited."

  Marge looked at us with a question on her face. I said, "The captain has generously invited us to dinner tonight." She looked at him, then looked back at us. A small smile formed on her lips but then vanished almost as soon as it appeared.

  He turned to her and said, "Thank you Doña Rocha, for all your assistance. The body will be removed this afternoon. I must ask you to reserve the room until our investigations are complete."

  She smiled and said, "Of course, Captain."

  He turned to us, bowed, and walked away.


  She said, in a low voice, "Well, that's a pretty picture."

  Carter took this one. "What do you mean, Marge?" It was the 5-star voice.

  "Inviting you for dinner? I saw his face. And his eyes. You can't hide that, not even under a mustache as big as his."

  I laughed and said, "Did you get a reservation for Mike Robertson for tonight?"

  "I did. Obviously I can't put him out where you are. But his room is not too far away."

  "Thanks Marge. How is everything?"

  She looked around at the lobby. "It's fine for the slow season. Fortunately, word of the murder hasn't gotten out, as far as I can tell. I haven't gotten any calls from Hollywood, at least."

  I thought about Eddie Mannix. He was probably going to finally have that heart attack, after all.

  Chapter 17

  Hotel Riviera del Pacifico

  Tuesday, May 26, 1953

  After noon

  Marge told us about a shop in town that catered to Americans that might have beach clothes and shoes that would fit Carter. She also told us the name of the sandals we saw everyone wearing, but I couldn't pronounce the word and neither could Carter, so we decided to just call them "beach sandals."

  She informed us that the shop would be closed until 4 or so. After a long lunch involving a big steak for Carter and some grilled white fish and more of that green gloop for me, we decided to take it easy and have a siesta. As we were walking through the lobby back towards the suite, the bored kid called to me from the reception desk. "Call for you, Mr. Williams." I shook my head, as I had no desire to talk to anyone right then. Regardless, he spoke into the receiver. "Yeah. He's here. Hold on." Then he shouted at me, "Second booth!"

  Carter said, "He's a real pro."

  I sat down in the booth, left the door open, and watched Carter as he leaned against it. I knew who this was. Whether it was second sight, I didn't know. But I was ready.

  I picked up the receiver. "Yeah?"

  "You goddam faggot!"

  I looked up at Carter and mouthed, "Eddie." I held the phone out so that he could lean in and hear it. He smiled and rolled his eyes.

  I left the instrument in mid-air and waited for the squawking noises to end. It took a while.

  "Hello, Eddie? How are you? Seems like we had some noise on the line. Calls to Mexico can be like that, ya know. How are you?"

  "I am gonna come down there and kill you myself."

  "And nice to talk to you, too."

  Eddie took a deep breath. "Look, you fairy. How did this even happen?"

  "I don't know. But I'm working on finding out. Course, I can't do that while you're screaming at me."

  "I would've thought for all the bad press you've been gettin' lately because you can't keep your damn trap shut and your dick out of your boyfriend's mouth that you would know how to make sure this was handled quietly."

  "I haven't breathed a word. And neither has the hotel owner. She doesn't want the publicity. This is a quiet place."

  "Not anymore, it ain't. The Times, the Daily News, the Herald are running stop-press editions. And that's just in L.A. Tomorrow's Variety is gonna be murder. When the most famous star in America is killed in a goddam queer love-nest, you can damn well bet it's gonna be headlines all over the fuckin' world."

  "Do they quote a source?"

  "Somethin' about the state police, whatever the hell that means down there."

  "Well, tell you what Eddie. When I have more news, I will definitely not call you."

  I slammed the receiver down.

  I looked up at Carter. "The L.A. papers have the story. Courtesy of the state police, no less. We need to tell Marge."

  He pushed me down. "Whoa, cowboy. You gotta start thinkin' more like a businessman and less like a lone wolf. If you're gonna have partners, you can't just run around and clean up whatever mess catches your fancy. If Marge wants to hire Consolidated for some damage control, that's fine. But, meanwhile, you and I are gonna go over the grounds and see what else there is to find."

  "Well, we haven't been hired to investigate this case, either."

  "This is personal. We have to prove it wasn't any of us and that it wasn't Jeffery."

  I looked down. He began to massage the shoulder he was holding down.

  "You're right. But someone should tell Marge."

  "Tell Marge what?"

  I looked up and she was standing a few feet away. She looked harried. Carter moved towards her as I stood up.

  He said, "The story is all over the L.A. papers."

  She nodded. "I know. I have had at least ten requests for interviews already. And, as of now, we're sold out for the next few days." She looked out towards the ocean. "Great for business. But, I don't have the staff to accommodate everyone, so if you'll excuse me." She walked away. She was not happy.

  . . .

  We walked back towards the suites. There was a sign on the door of Taylor's suite that said something in Spanish. I assumed it was the equivalent of announcing an active crime scene. Interestingly, no one was guarding the door.

  Carter said, "You take the back and I'll do the front."

  I walked down to the end of the walkway, just past our suite, which was the last one. The walkway was made of cement. It ended in the sand. I walked around the side.

  As I slowly looked along the ground, I noticed it was almost pristine. Not even a bottle top. I looked up the side of the building. Nothing.

  I walked around the back. I looked down the row. This was an alley that separated the next row of suites or rooms that faced the other direction. In this way, the bathrooms could each have a window. The one in our bathroom was about four feet by four feet. The opening when the window was raised was probably a little less than two feet. Of course this was blocked by a metal screen. However, that didn't mean someone couldn't remove the screen if they wanted to crawl through that way.

  As I walked slowly behind our suite, I found some trash. Bits of paper. Bottle tops. A rusted church key stuck in the sand. One abandoned Coke bottle against the wall. I kept going.

  As I walked behind Taylor's suite I did see some footprints. They were small, but seemed to show a man's shoe.

  I also saw something else. There was a cigarette butt that had been mashed into the sand. It had a recessed filter, so I knew it was from a Parliament cigarette. That was what Juliet was smoking this morning. No lipstick. But, then, she wouldn't have any on I didn't think.

  I continued and found two more of the same brand of butts. It looked like someone had been spying. Or maybe they just liked to stand in this empty space and smoke. It would be nice, because the ocean breeze didn't reach this spot. I knew that from the damp patches on my back and under my arms.

  I walked all the way to the end and found nothing else of interest. I stood at the back end of this sandy alley and looked out. I could see the palm trees where Carter had gotten down on his knee yesterday. I fingered my ring for a moment and spent a little time feeling ashamed for letting my feelings run rampant with the captain.

  But then, as I remembered how Carter had reminded me who I was really in love with this morning, I smiled and decided there was no shame in window shopping. Particularly if it helped you remember that what you had at home was much better than anything out in the market. Much better.

  . . .

  When I came back around the building to the walkway, I could see Carter kneeling on his good knee and looking at something down by Rhonda's room. I walked in that direction. He put his finger to his mouth. I nodded.

  I could hear Rhonda and Juliet talking. I squatted down to be able to hear them through the open window. The thin curtains were drawn, but the sound carried. I hadn't heard them in the alley. Their bathroom window must have been closed. Or maybe the door to the bathroom was closed.

  Juliet: "Can't you see babe? This solves the whole problem."

  Rhonda: "Maybe for you. I'm still stuck in my contract until 1955."

  Juliet: "That's you all over. You can'
t ever see how good things are for you. You always want more."

  Rhonda: "That's how I got where I am. You know that."

  Juliet: "Oh, yeah. I know that. Too well, in fact."

  Rhonda: "What does that mean?"

  Juliet: "Oh, baby. What does it matter? Now we can be together."

  Rhonda: "I don't know about that. Mr. Schary is going to want to get me married quickly, after this."

  Juliet: "So what?"

  Rhonda: "So what? Weren't you just talking about how all our problems were solved?"

  Juliet: "Sure. But we can find the same deal. You know. Some sissy. Just like Taylor."

  Rhonda: "I wish you wouldn't say his name. Gives me goose bumps."

  Juliet: "If you're cold, you and I..."

  The voices stopped but the noises didn't. Carter and I stood up and walked quietly to our suite.

  . . .

  We sat in the sitting room on the sofa, side-by-side, hands intertwined.

  "What did you find?" I asked.

  "Nothing really. They keep this place very clean."

  I looked at our room. It didn't look like we'd had maid service today. Or maybe they'd come by this morning when we were busy and we hadn't heard the knock.

  "How about you?" he asked.

  "Three Parliament cigarette butts. No lipstick."

  "Juliet?"

  "I think so. Rhonda had lipstick on this morning."

  Carter said, "Didn't you think that was interesting?"

  "How so?"

  "It looked like her hair had been mussed up to make her look like she'd been asleep. I don't think she had been."

  I closed my eyes to see the room again. "You're right. The whole thing was a real performance. She should stay away from TV."

  "Why?"

  "Seems to forget her lines. Can't do that when it's live."

  Carter laughed. "But Juliet had definitely been asleep."

  "Yeah."

  I looked at my watch. It was just past 3.

  "Well, so much for our siesta."

  Carter stood up and pulled me up. "Let's you and me walk into town. By the time we get to that shop, I'd bet they'll be open."

  Chapter 18

  Strolling through Ensenada

  Tuesday, May 26, 1953