A third group, four men who looked like they were out for a business lunch, stood behind the two women. One of the men said, "We'll follow you down to the elevator, too. If you don't mind."
I replied, "That's fine. It's a private office, so I'll take you right to the elevators."
"We understand," replied the businessman.
The old sailor said, "I'm gonna go back and get in line. I've eaten here everyday for lunch since they opened and can't wait to get some more of that grub."
"Grub, indeed," said the older woman indignantly as I opened the door to the stairwell.
. . .
Once we were in the elevator lobby on the nineteenth floor, Carter and I waited with the small group while the elevator made its way to our floor. As we stood there, the younger woman asked, "What's the name of this company?"
"Consolidated Security," I replied.
A wave of recognition passed over her face. Right then, the elevator door opened. The four businessmen and the two women walked in. Carter and I both tipped our hats to them. Carter added, "Have a good lunch, ma'am."
As the door closed, I could hear the older woman say, "Now, that's the way everyone should act, I say."
I could faintly hear the younger woman reply, "Yes, Mama."
. . .
I followed Carter to his office. Once we were there, I asked, "What're you gonna do about the crowd upstairs?"
He said, "I really should call the Fire Marshal."
I nodded.
He looked at me. "But you could get in trouble."
"Doesn't matter. It really was dangerous up there."
He picked up the phone. Then he put it back. "I'm still hungry."
I grinned. "I'll get some sandwiches at the lunch counter downstairs. You want two hamburger sandwiches this time?"
He nodded. "Yep."
. . .
When the elevator opened in the lobby, I was surprised to see the two women standing over by the payphones. They were having some sort of heated exchange all in whispers.
The younger woman saw me. I heard her say, "Look. He's here."
Her mother turned and looked at me with a scowl. She shook her head. "I don't think it's right, Sissy."
I walked over and smiled. "I'm surprised you two are still here. The Old Poodle Dog is a great spot for lunch."
The younger woman looked at me and asked, "Aren't you Nick Williams?"
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
She put her gloved hand on her chest and sighed with relief. "I thought that was you." Offering her hand, she said, "My name is Alicia Grossman."
I shook. "Pleased to meet you."
"And this is my mother, Mrs. Geraldine Grossman."
I waited for the older woman to extend her hand. When she didn't, I said, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."
Looking back at Miss Grossman, I asked, "Is there something I can help you with?"
Mrs. Grossman snapped, "There certainly is not. Come Sissy." With that, she turned and made her way to the revolving glass door.
"You'll have to pardon my mother. This is a very serious matter and it's a little embarrassing. Do you think we could meet with you after lunch?"
I smiled. "Of course. How about 2?"
She sighed with relief again. "That would be wonderful."
"Sissy!" That was her mother. She was standing by the door.
Miss Grossman said, "Sorry," and dashed over to where her mother was standing.
. . .
Carter and I were sitting on the sofa in my office. He was nuzzling on my neck when Marnie knocked on the door. I quickly stood, adjusted myself, and called out, "Yeah?"
Marnie opened the door and looked around at us. "Your appointment is here." With a slight grin, she asked, "You ready?"
Carter said, "Give us two minutes."
She nodded and disappeared.
I looked down at Carter, who put his hand on my belt. We stood there for a long moment. Finally, he stood and adjusted himself. I leaned up and kissed him on the lips.
With a grin, he asked, "You want me to leave?"
I shook my head. "No, stay."
. . .
Once we were all introduced, I smiled at the younger woman and asked, "So, Miss Grossman, how can we help you?"
"Well, Mr. Williams, we have a problem."
I nodded and waited.
Glancing apprehensively at her mother, she continued, "You see, my father is missing."
Mrs. Grossman harrumphed but didn't say anything.
"My parents live in Mill Valley. My father, his name is David Grossman, he's an engineer and works for Bechtel. He's supposed to be on a job assignment in Africa, but we haven't heard from him in over three months."
Mrs. Grossman stirred but didn't say anything.
"Have you talked to anyone at Bechtel?" That was the obvious question.
Miss Grossman shook her head. "They just give Mama a big run-around."
Finally, Mrs. Grossman exploded. "Oh, this is all too ridiculous, Sissy." Looking at me, she said, "Young man, this is quite normal. My husband has been on projects all over the world and there have been plenty of times when I haven't heard from him for a month or two."
"Mama, that was in the 1930s. This is 1955. There's no reason why we shouldn't have heard from him."
"Where, exactly, is he?" asked Carter.
Mrs. Grossman pursed her lips and shook her head. "He's consulting with an Italian engineering firm that's proposing to build a dam on the Zambezi river in Southern Rhodesia. It's not a Bechtel project. They're just providing consulting services for the bid. He left in June. First, he went to Paris to talk with the man who's designing the dam. Then, he went to Milan to meet with the engineers. They all flew down to Salisbury in Southern Rhodesia at the beginning of September." She looked at her daughter. "Sissy, I heard from him once he arrived in Salisbury on the third." Looking back at me, she said, "You see, Mr. Williams, it's only been a little over a month since I heard from David. He's perfectly fine. He's probably in the bush."
I nodded. "You know a lot about your husband's business."
"Of course," she snapped, "That's my job as David's wife. I know as much as I'm allowed to know. I like to be able to have logical and informed conversations with him when he's home. It makes him feel more relaxed."
Miss Grossman added with a grin, "Mama went to Radcliffe. She has a law degree from Cal."
I smiled at Mrs. Grossman. "Are you in practice anywhere?"
"No, I am not," she snapped in reply. She seemed to soften a bit. "Although now that Sissy is in school at Cal, herself, I was thinking about finding a job."
"What are you studying?" asked Carter.
"Engineering," replied Miss Grossman.
"When do you graduate?" I asked.
"1958. I'm a sophomore this year."
Mrs. Grossman added, with a touch of pride, "She's the only woman in her class who's studying engineering."
I said, "Good for you, Miss Grossman."
"Thank you, Mr. Williams." She smiled but there was something off about her answer.
"Well?" asked Mrs. Grossman, looking at me.
"The man who designed this building used to work at Bechtel. I can ask him to make some calls and see what he can find out."
Miss Grossman sighed. "That would be fantastic, Mr. Williams. What are your rates?"
I had no idea. I grinned and replied, "Let's see what we can find out and then we can talk rates. How's that?"
My answer seemed to take Mrs. Grossman by surprise. She stood and said, "Well, no one can ask better than that."
Carter and I stood as did Miss Grossman.
I said, "It's been a pleasure to meet you both."
To my surprise, Mrs. Grossman offered her hand. "The pleasure is all ours."
. . .
"We're finally really moved in. How do you like it?"
I looked around Henry's office down on the fourth floor and nodded. "Looks good." Henry Winters was the engineer I'd men
tioned to Miss Grossman. He was Carter's first love. They'd grown up together in Albany, Georgia, and moved to the City in '39. Everyone said Henry and I looked the same. That was patently ridiculous. Henry was much more attractive than me.
"Are you two ready for Saturday?"
Saturday was the day Carter's mother, Louise Jones, would be marrying Ed Richardson, a man who had, at one time, been in love with my mother. We'd met Ed the previous March when I'd been following the trail of what happened to my mother after she left us back in '29. Everyone had thought she'd died of cancer in Mexico. However, she had lived a completely different life for another nineteen years. After we'd met him in Vermont, Ed had started coming to San Francisco. He'd met Louise, whose first husband had been murdered in the summer of '53. She'd since moved from Georgia to San Francisco. They'd quickly fallen in love and announced their engagement back in the summer. My stepmother, Leticia "Lettie" Williams, was arranging the event.
I looked over at Carter. It was his shindig. He smiled. "I don't know about Nick, but I am. It's only going to be about sixty people. Lettie and the other ladies have the whole thing under control. We're just letting them use the house."
Henry frowned. "Is anyone coming from Albany?"
Carter shook his head. "Everyone from Georgia who wants to see my mother get married a second time is already here. It's kinda sad how those church friends of Mama's wouldn't even come when it was offered to them for free."
Henry nodded silently but didn't say anything to Carter in reply. It was odd. I wondered what it meant. Turning to me, he asked, "How about Ed? Are his kids coming?"
I nodded. "Yeah. The two sons, their wives, and the one grandson. He also wanted the two old ladies in Vermont who knew my mother to come but Miss Grace is in the hospital. She broke her ankle about a week ago and it's not healing right. And, of course, Miss Hyacinth isn't coming without her."
Grinning, Henry said, "I'd really love to meet the two of them. From everything you've said, they both sound like a hoot."
I nodded and sighed. "I wish they were coming. I'd like for my father to meet them both."
"How is he doing with all of this?"
Carter replied, "Fine. He seems to think it's a good idea."
"It isn't weird to think of the man who was practically married to his own wife getting married to your mother?" Henry made a face. "It's almost like the two of you will be brothers."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "No, we will not be brothers. Ed never married my mother since she didn't know if she was still married to my father or not. The closest we'd be to being related would be something like step-stepbrothers."
Henry laughed. "I know. I just wanted to mention it one more time because it really bothers you."
Carter cleared his throat. "You and Robert will be there, right?"
"Of course," answered Henry perfunctorily. Turning to me, he added, "He's excited. He even bought some new clothes." Robert Evans was Henry's lover. He was also the manager of my various real estate properties and really good at it.
I looked at Henry. "I'm glad you two will be there. I know that Louise is happy about that, too." Louise was Carter's mother.
"The more folks from back home, the better," added Carter.
Henry ignored that statement and smiled at me. "OK. Now that we're all caught up, what can I help you with?"
"It's the case of the possibly missing engineer."
Henry frowned slightly. "Possibly missing?"
I explained what Mrs. Grossman had told us. When I finished, I added, "So, I was hoping you could make a couple of calls and find out what's really going on."
Henry bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at the ceiling. After a moment, he said, "I've heard about this project. The original assumption was that it would be built in Northern Rhodesia on the Kafue River. A panel of experts, including a couple of men from Bechtel, was convened in 1950, if I remember right. They came up with the idea to build it on the Zambezi which caused a bit of a stir."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because their plan, as it stands now, means relocating several thousand natives. If the dam were built on the Kafue River, there would still be some relocation, but they would have numbered in the low hundreds. I think it was just one or two villages, in fact."
Carter whistled. "That hardly seems fair."
Henry shrugged dismissively. "Same thing happened here with the Tennessee Valley Authority. Not as many people but a lot of hard feelings."
"Sure," I said. "Is it unusual for someone to be out of touch for that long? Mrs. Grossman seemed to think it wasn't."
"To be honest," replied Henry, "she would know better than me. I never worked on anything that remote."
"Do you think he might not be missing?" asked Carter.
"No idea." Another perfunctory answer. Something was definitely up between Henry and Carter, at least on Henry's side. "I'll make a couple of calls and see what I can find out. I'm not particularly popular around there, of course, but there are still a couple of men I'm in touch with. I'll see what they have to say." I wondered if Henry was feeling put upon by what we were asking him to do. He'd been fired by Bechtel back in '53 when an investigator had discovered Henry was a homosexual. The project he'd been working on had required a background check and that's when everything came to light.
I said, "Thanks, Henry, we appreciate it."
He nodded at me and then turned to Carter. "Got a call from the Fire Marshal. Seems like someone called in an anonymous tip about overcrowding up on the twentieth floor. Would you happen to know anything about that?" Suddenly everything made sense. He was obviously angry at Carter.
Carter nodded. "Sure. That was me. Not sure why they said it was anonymous. I gave them my name."
"Why didn't you just come down here and let me know?"
Carter sighed. "I called it in first and then came down here. The office was closed for lunch. It couldn't wait. If there had been a fire up there..."
Henry looked offended. That was the best way to describe it. "Fine, Carter. You could still have come back down here after lunch."
Carter crossed his arms. "I did. We're here."
I stood and said, "If you two wanna get into some sort of fight about this, go right ahead. But there's nothing to fight about. Obviously what's got you irked, Henry, is that it was an anonymous tip." I looked at Carter. "But you have no reason to call one in like that, right?"
Looking bewildered, Carter replied, "Hell, no. Maybe the gal who took my call didn't write down my name. All I know is that I did what I was supposed to do and I called it in."
Henry sighed dramatically. "OK. I'm sorry, Carter." He put his hands on his desk and pushed himself up from his chair. "Is there anything else?"
I looked at Carter, who stood, and then over at Henry. They were both fuming. Obviously whatever it was that was going on wasn't resolved. I offered my hand to Henry and said, "I think that does it for now."
He shook and said, "I'll make those calls here in a few minutes and I'll let you know as soon as I know something." He paused a beat and looked up at Carter. "Even if your office is closed for lunch."
. . .
"OK, Chief, what was all that about?"
We were in the elevator. We had just stopped on the eighth floor and dropped off the only other passenger.
Carter crossed his arms. "I have no idea. It's like the old days."
"The old days?"
"Yeah. Every now and then, Henry would get a bug up his ass about something I said or did. Then he'd pick a fight with me. The only way I ever figured out how to get him back to Earth was in bed."
I laughed. "Well, that's no longer an option."
Right then, the door opened on the nineteenth floor. As we stepped out, I said, "Do you have time to talk in my office?"
Carter huffed. "Sure." He didn't sound enthusiastic.
"Just because I said talk doesn't mean that's what I wanna do."
Carter finally relaxed. He
put his right hand on the back of my neck and said, "Lead the way, Boss."
Chapter 2
The Paramount Theatre
1066 Market Street
Tuesday, October 11, 1955
Just before 7 in the evening
That night, we decided to go see To Catch A Thief, a Hitchcock movie we'd somehow missed in the summer when it first came out. Carter happened to notice the Paramount was showing it for a week so, instead of going home for dinner, we left the office at half past 5 and walked a few blocks up Market. For dinner, we went to the Clinton Cafeteria across Market from the theater.
After we ate, we ran across Market Street in the middle of the block and managed not to be run down by a truck. We got our tickets up front, Carter grabbed a box of Milk Duds at the counter, and we found our seats. Carter liked to sit under the balcony towards the back so he wouldn't be blocking anyone behind us and so we could hold hands during the movie.
The Paramount had a Wurlitzer organ. When we walked in, the organist was playing "Hooray For Hollywood."
As we got comfortable, Carter leaned in and asked, "Speaking of Hollywood, are you ready for your big debut down in San Bernardino on Thursday?"
I said, "Sure," and reached into his box of Milk Duds.
He continued, "Why there? Why not somewhere up here or closer in to L.A.?"
"When I asked Ben about that, he said that San Bernardino was perfect because it was close to the big Marine Corps base at Twenty-Nine Palms and there's an Air Force base right there, too."
Ben White was a movie producer down in L.A. He and I, along with a director by the name of Ronald Jessup, had gone in together and resurrected the old silent-era Monumental Studios. Ben was an ex-cop who was in love with an ex-fireman, one Carlo Martinelli. We'd introduced the two and it had been love at first sight.
Thursday was the official premiere of Ben's first picture. It was called The Lonely Tigress and was aimed at teenagers, particularly kids who were in their late teens and liked movies about drag racing, tough girls, and heroic guys. I liked to think of them as the juvenile delinquent crowd.
Carter stretched out his long legs under the seat in front. "That makes sense, I guess."
The Childish Churl (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 15) Page 2