The Childish Churl (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 15)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I didn't say anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Anita start to say something. She looked at me and stopped.

  Alicia added, "She probably did. How was he killed?"

  Lying, I said, "We don't know. The police haven't said anything."

  "Well, my father had a gun he kept in the house."

  "Did your father have any reason to be in the Mission District or Eureka Valley that you know of?"

  She blinked. "Well, one of the houses he liked was above Noe Valley. It was on Clipper at the corner of Douglass."

  "When did he look at it?"

  "Back in May. He and I went out one day with a real estate agent. That was the house he liked the best. My favorite was the one on Russian Hill."

  "And your mother didn't go with you that day?" That was Carter.

  "No. She stayed home. Father took me back to campus before he went home. I was really afraid of what she would do if she knew I'd been with him. It was right after finals. That was the same week he'd helped me work it out with staying in the dorm over the break. Mother was hopping mad about that."

  I nodded.

  Maria asked, "When did your father leave on his trip?"

  "Monday, June 27th," replied Alicia.

  Maria said, "Let's go look at the real estate transactions for June. That's on the other side."

  . . .

  Maria said, "Here it is. Sale of 598 Clipper Street. Completed on Monday, June 20th. Entered on Tuesday, June 28th. Cash transaction. Purchaser: David R. Grossman."

  Alicia said, "R is for Reuben."

  "Buyer paid twenty thousand even. No encumbrances." Maria looked at Alicia. "You had no idea about this?"

  Alicia shook her head. "None." She looked up at me. "Does this mean I own the house?"

  I shrugged. "It depends on your father's will."

  She nodded and then sighed. "Well, the safest place for me to go is back to campus. That's the one place Mother will never go."

  "Why's that?" asked Carter.

  "I don't know why but something awful happened to her while she was at Cal. She got her law degree in 1935. I was born on January 10th of 1936. But, right before she graduated, she was on campus to meet some friends of hers. It was late at night. She always said that she was robbed. But I think it was worse." She pursed her lips and looked at the ground.

  Anita looked at me. "Mr. Williams, I'll be happy to drive Alicia over to Berkeley." She touched the girl's arm. "Maybe we can have dinner somewhere here in the City. My treat. Then I'll take you to campus."

  Alicia looked shy but said, "That would be nice. I'd like that."

  Chapter 21

  1198 Sacramento Street

  Friday, October 14, 1955

  Half past 6 in the evening

  We were in the shower, trying to get in and out quickly.

  Carter said, "There's something fishy about all of this, Nick."

  I was rinsing my hair. "How so?"

  "What's that complex? Not Oedipal but the one for girls?"

  "Electra?" I asked.

  "That's the one."

  "But," I said as I ran the red octagonal bar of Lifebuoy soap over my chest, "for it to be an Electra complex, she would have to be in love with her father. I don't think she would be. You saw how she was with Anita."

  I handed the soap to Carter, who started scrubbing himself with it as I rinsed off. "I know. But I still think there's something off about the whole thing. I know she's only 19, but her mother is a—"

  I looked up at him through the water that was spilling over my head and said, "Yeah."

  He sighed. "I guess I was relating to her stories of her mother a little too much. Her mother sounds an awful lot like my father."

  I nodded. "But they're all always two sides to every story. I think it's pretty obvious where the mother's dislike of the daughter comes from."

  "You do?" asked Carter as he moved me around so we could switch places under the shower head.

  "Sure. Don't you?"

  "Not really. Give me a hint."

  "The thing that happened in May of '35 on campus. And Alicia was born in January of '36."

  Carter nodded and sputtered under the water. Using his fingers, he said, "May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December, January. Yep. That's nine."

  I stepped out of the big shower tub and grabbed a towel. "Actually that's eight. June would be the first month, not May. But it's close enough. Alicia could have been born early."

  Carter turned around and shut off the water. I handed him a towel and he began to scrub his head. "So you think the girl reminds the mother of that campus assault?"

  I leaned over to dry off my legs and feet. "Yep. That could be pretty hard for a woman to bear. That's probably why the mother didn't want to move. Mill Valley is kind of isolated."

  "It's not that far from the bridge," said Carter as he stepped out of the tub.

  I walked into the bedroom and over to the bed. Gustav had laid out our clothes for us. I pulled on my pair of BVDs. "But it looks like it's far away from the City. It's nestled up against Mount Tam and it just looks so cozy."

  Carter walked into the bedroom and grabbed his BVDs as I sat on the end of the bed and fastened on my garters. He asked, "Would you ever wanna live over there?"

  I laughed. "No, thank you. It's pretty but I like the City."

  "Me, too."

  I pulled on my left sock and fastened it to the garter. "How do you think Bobby will behave tonight?"

  Carter sat next to me and began to pull on his socks. "I have no idea. I wonder if Lettie and Geneva got in on the action."

  I stood and walked over to the bureau. "Platinum for both of us, right?"

  Carter said, "Yeah. Gustav has red ties for us both."

  "Good. I like you in a red tie. Makes your green eyes sparkle."

  Carter stood, put on his shirt, and walked over to me. Holding out his arms, he said, "You look good in anything, Nick."

  As I fastened his cufflinks, I asked, "What'd you think about that library?"

  He started to button his shirt as I walked over to get mine. "I think you're changing the subject."

  As I slipped into my shirt, I said, "What should I say?"

  He took the cufflinks from me as I stretched out my arms. "Just say, 'thank you.'"

  I grinned up at him as I buttoned my shirt. "Thank you."

  He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. "You're welcome."

  Chapter 22

  Ernie's Restaurant

  847 Montgomery Street

  Friday, October 14, 1955

  Quarter past 7 in the evening

  Ernie's was hopping. The cab dropped us off right in front. I gave the driver a five and said, "Thanks," as Carter and I piled out of the back of his DeSoto.

  There were two groups of men in black tie who were smoking and talking on the sloping sidewalk in front of the restaurant's windows. Carter pulled the door open and we found what looked to be their dates, all dressed to the nines, waiting impatiently.

  When the maitre d', a man whose name I could never remember, saw us, he motioned us over and said, "I'll take you right back." Looking around Carter, he said, in a general way to the others who were waiting, "Private party."

  There were still some groans. Ever since Ernie's had upgraded from an Italian place that was comfortable and with solid fare to a French restaurant decked out in red flocked wallpaper, the crowds had been enormous. We'd been a few times. I liked their crepes, a kind of French pancake, but preferred the Old Poodle Dog over on Post by the office. The food there was just as good but the crowd was less showy. As we walked through the dining room, we got the usual amount of glances, some friendly but most not.

  The maitre d' ushered us into the private dining room where we found the party in full swing. There was a waiter in attendance who asked us about drinks. Carter put in for Burgie in a glass. I asked for a gin martini with vermouth. It was beginning to irritate me that, over the previous year, I'd r
ealized I had to order a martini the way it was supposed to be made in order to get what I wanted. I didn't like vodka. A gin martini without vermouth didn't taste right.

  The dining room was long and narrow and covered in the same red flocked wallpaper as the main part of the restaurant. A single table, covered in white linen and set with silver and crystal, ran the length of the room. Against the far wall, there was a small mahogany buffet with a marble top that the waiter used as his station.

  Lettie stood and greeted us once we'd put in for drinks. She sent Carter to the far end of the table, next to his mother, and put me across from her chair and next to my father, who was sitting at one end and holding court.

  Peggy was on my right. Mr. Walters, Aunt Velma's date, was on her right. John Parker, Carter's cousin who also worked for us, was across the table from her and on Lettie's left. He was a lanky version of Carter but with blue eyes instead of green. He'd been a cop in Albany, their hometown in Georgia, but had been fired after they discovered his proclivities. His lover, Roger Johnson, also from Georgia, was sitting down by Carter and next to Michelle. They'd moved to San Francisco a little over a year earlier. John grinned at me and asked, "Workin' hard, boy?"

  I nodded as the waiter put a plate of tossed salad in front of me. "Yeah. How're you?"

  He cut his eyes down the table to where Bobby was sulking over his plate. "Glad the cavalry has arrived."

  Lettie, who never missed anything, said, "Now, John. He's trying his best."

  John, who knew how to deal with Lettie and her gang of four, simply said, "Yes, ma'am."

  Peggy said. "Bobby is spending the night at your father's apartment. I, however, am not."

  "Did you two have a fight about it?"

  She shook her head and cut into her fish. "No. I told him he was a fool and that I want a divorce. Pretty simple." She stabbed at the piece of fish but didn't put it in her mouth.

  I sat back in my chair. "Are you sure, Peggy?"

  She nodded. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But after what he said to you..." She put her napkin to her eye and dabbed away a tear. "Would you happen to have an opening in one of your buildings, Nick? I don't want to go back east. I like it here."

  I patted her arm. "Sure, Peggy. Of course. Anything you need."

  She sniffed and said, "Thanks."

  I looked over at Lettie who turned to my father and asked, "Why are you letting your son become a real estate mogul?" She winked at me as she said it.

  My father swallowed his bite, took a drink of his red wine, and said, "Lumber, my dear. That's where I'm focused these days. Let Nicholas buy up all of San Francisco. I'm more interested in Sunnyvale and San Jose. They have land down there. Lots of land to build on." He smiled at me and had another drink of his wine.

  "You know my strategy, Father." I looked over at John, who was listening and seemed to be amused by our little show.

  He nodded. "If you like how it looks, that's when you buy it. I know. Of course, it's hardly sound but the New York Times says you're weathering this stock market slump better than almost anyone. Seems as if you're one of the few who didn't sell. I'm sure the American Telephone and Telegraph and Coca-Cola are very pleased."

  I shrugged. I never read the papers.

  . . .

  "Is it true what I read?" That was Mr. Walters. Once Peggy had finished poking at her dessert, she'd left to powder her nose. Michelle had gone with her. Mr. Walters was leaning over her chair. "Did you really not sell after Ike had his heart attack?"

  I shrugged. "I don't manage things. My guy at Bank of America takes care of all that."

  Mr. Walters thought for a moment. "Maybe I should move my little portfolio over there. I'm a Hibernia man, myself."

  "His name is Joseph Young."

  "Is he, uh, one of you?"

  I grinned. "Welsh?"

  Mr. Walters turned red. "No, what I meant, you see—"

  "He's a Mormon but with only one wife and seven children. At last count..." I couldn't remember so I said, "He has around twenty grandchildren. You'll have to ask Carter for the official count."

  Mr. Walters coughed and said, "I see." He stood, put his napkin on his chair, and looked at Lettie. "Excuse me, Leticia."

  She nodded and said, "Of course, Theodore."

  Once he was gone, she sighed. "I really don't see what Velma likes about that man."

  My father, who had taken out his pipe, said, "Well, she says he reminds her of Leroy." He was Aunt Velma's late husband who had passed away in the summer of '54.

  I looked at John who was shaking his head. "He looks like Uncle Leroy, I'll grant you that. But he's such an ass."

  Lettie said, "John, will you please watch your language?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin.

  She pursed her lips and looked at me. "Would it be an imposition for you to ask one of your employees to do an investigation on him? There's something not quite right and I can't put my finger on it."

  John raised his hand. "I'll do it."

  I smiled and shook my head. "No. I'll tell Mike tomorrow and he'll have someone who's not related work on it."

  John shrugged, took a drink of his beer, and said, "That's probably for the best."

  . . .

  After dinner was over, the party moved to The Tonga Room at the Fairmont. I was down by two martinis and feeling fine, but I figured it was probably good if we were all within walking distance. Marnie and Alex, along with Mr. Walters, had driven over. But we convinced them to leave their cars and pile into the caravan of cabs that shuttled us over.

  Carter and I were squeezed in with John and Roger which really meant that I was in between John and Carter while Roger sat up front. It was cozy, to say the least.

  As the cab turned right on California and the driver down-shifted for the climb up the hill, Roger said, "Boy, you should've heard that Bobby." He whistled. "What a complainer. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Carter, son, I thought you was gonna deck him at one point."

  Carter sighed. "I tried to be patient. Ed's trying mighty hard to be patient. I think Kenneth, though, might beat me to the punch."

  "The part I don't get," said John, "is how you can both be brothers to them. Does that mean you'll be brothers yourselves?"

  I jabbed John in the ribs.

  "Ow," he said.

  Carter added, "Get it out now, John. Nick and I are giving everyone one more day to make all the fun you want. Then, I'm turning Nick loose. All I have to say is, don't let him get too close."

  Roger laughed. "The famous Nick Williams right hook."

  I said, "And I'll do it, too. For the last time, we are not gonna be brothers. Just because my stepfather is marrying his mother doesn't mean we'll be related. Not like that."

  From the front, the cabbie looked in the rear-view mirror and asked with an uncertain smile, "You fellas practicing for some sorta TV show? This sounds like I Love Lucy or My Little Margie or somethin' like it."

  Using my best high-hat voice, I said, "Whatever we may be doing, we are most definitely not practicing for My Little Margie. Gale Storm is a bitch. And I can prove it."

  We all laughed at that. Except for the cab driver who just looked confused.

  . . .

  I took a drink of my third martini and said, "He's related to you, I'm sorry to say." We were talking about Lieutenant Thomas from the Mission District police station.

  Roger looked up. "You're messin' with me, right? One of my kinfolk in San Francisco? I should start packing." He grinned and drank from his frothy pink drink. "These things taste like candy."

  Carter grinned. "Candy with a helluva kick, son." He took a drink from his glass of beer as the band started up a vigorous version of "Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom." Carter said, "The lieutenant said he was from Montgomery but he's related to the Daugherty County Johnsons in Albany. Knew all about George Johnson and the case of the overpriced Buick."

  Roger shook his head. "We're a sorry bunch of sumbitches, I'll
tell you that much." He sighed. "But I really thought I was the only one of the clan to make it to the City by the bay." He slurped down the last of his drink. "Damn it." He slammed his glass down on the table. "I guess I'll have to swing by and introduce myself sometime."

  Carter shook his head. "Not unless you got bail money because he ain't messin' around. I nearly took a swing at him."

  I briefly put my hand on his arm and looked at Roger. "Carter got his revenge, though."

  "How?" asked Roger with a broad grin.

  "We were gonna serve him breakfast but, after the lieutenant was so rude, I invited him into the office." I had a sip of my martini. It really was good. Nice and cold. "Mrs. Strakova was making him scrambled eggs and bacon—"

  "You were gonna give one of my sumbitch relatives one of the best breakfasts in town?" Roger shook his head. "Damn, son."

  I kept going. "But when Gustav came in, all he brought was a cup of lukewarm coffee." I laughed because the whole thing was hilarious. "When he walked in with just the cup, not even a saucer, I asked Gustav what happened." I was laughing so hard, I hiccuped. "Oops, sorry." I tried to mimic Gustav's Czechoslovakian accent. "Out of eggs! Out of bacon! All gone" I slapped my knee because the whole thing was so funny. Carter and Roger seemed to think so too.

  Right then, John and Peggy returned from the dance floor. The three of us stood.

  "Hoo-ey," exclaimed John as he picked up his half-full glass of beer and chugged it down. "Girl, you know some moves." We all laughed at that.

  She grinned up at him. "You're not so bad yourself."

  I offered my hand as the band on the floating island in the middle of the lagoon began a Polynesian version of "Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing," complete with steel guitar playing the melody. "How about it, Peggy?"

  She smiled and let me lead her over to the dance floor. I held her close as she rested her head on my shoulder. We moved slowly across the floor in time with the brush whisking across the drum. I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them, I could see Bobby heading our way.

  "Trouble coming," I said.

  Peggy snorted. "I've just about had it—"