I quickly stubbed out my cigarette and grabbed my gun. Even though I was just in my BVDs, I moved from the bedroom to the living room of the suite. I slowly crept down the marble entrance hallway in my bare feet. Holding my gun in the air, I stopped and listened at the door.
"Are you sure?" asked one voice.
"Parnell," said another voice. "That's his old man's first name." Well, that alias would have to be put to rest.
These were two male voices and they were whispering. They were so close to the door that I could smell the breath from one of them. He needed to brush more often.
I heard the scrape of something metallic being inserted into the lock in order to force it open. I backed up into the corner as I heard the lock click. I could see the door knob because the dim light from outside the living room windows was reflected off it. I watched the door knob slowly turn and shifted the gun in my hand so I was holding it by the barrel instead of the handle.
A sliver of light from the hallway began to widen as the door quietly opened. A thick, squat form slowly walked across the marble floor. His leather-soled shoes squeaked softly as he did.
His buddy walked in right behind him. As fast as I could, I pistol-whipped the buddy on his neck. As he fell with a thud, I managed to do the same to the first guy before he had time to respond.
I went to the tall drapes that were covering the high windows of the living room. I yanked hard on the cords that opened and closed them. The whole setup came crashing down. It took a minute, but I managed to pull the cords out of the mechanism and then used them to bind the arms and legs of the two guys who were prone on the floor. Once that was done, I went into the bedroom and grabbed a handkerchief from my trousers. Returning to the entrance hallway, I checked for pulses, just in case. They each had one.
The squat guy had dropped his piece. Using the handkerchief, I picked it up and emptied the bullets. I put all of that on a table by the window.
I went back to his partner. He had fallen on his face, which only a mother could love, and there was a gash on his forehead from where he hit the marble. He was bleeding and it was running down the side of his head.
I ran into the bathroom and grabbed a small towel from the stack on the counter. I ran it under the water for a moment and then walked back to the ugly mug and pressed the towel on the wound to hopefully staunch the bleeding. I held it there for a couple of minutes until the bleeding stopped.
I reached over and, using my handkerchief, grabbed the barrel of his gun, stood up, and walked over to the table to add it to the other one.
Then, and only then, did I pull on my clothes and call the hotel security office. In that order.
. . .
"How did you know they were there?" That was Lieutenant Holland. We were standing in the living room of my hotel suite. The hotel security had called him at my insistence. Mike was sitting on one of the sofas, keeping quiet and taking it all in. He was the second call I had made.
"I had just lit a cigarette in the bedroom and I heard a sound."
"And your gun?"
"Licensed. I was carrying it with me in case something like this happened."
"What about your P.I. license? I thought it was suspended."
"The board cleared me in January and it's been reinstated."
The lieutenant was wearing the same London Fog coat he'd had on earlier in the day. But now his coat and trousers were blue and he had on a yellow tie.
"You're lucky you didn't kill either of them. How'd you know to hit them on the neck and not the skull."
Mike said, "I taught him that."
The lieutenant frowned and looked down at Mike. "When?"
I answered, "When I was living with him and he was teaching me how to take care of myself."
A look of distaste mixed with something I couldn't read passed over the man's face. He looked at his notebook and made a couple of notes.
"Why are you staying here?"
"It was Mike's suggestion and I agreed with him. Henry Winters called me after he received a threatening phone call. He went to stay with a friend and I came over here."
The lieutenant looked over at Mike. "When were you going to tell me about those calls?" There was a tone of annoyance in his voice along with, again, something I couldn't read.
Mike said, "First thing in the morning. Didn't seem like enough to call down to the station and make a report. They were hunches with no evidence."
"But you thought your hunch was significant enough to warrant moving your friends?"
"I know Abati. If it was him, I know that he doesn't fool around."
The lieutenant scribbled something in his notebook but didn't respond.
He looked up at me. "How do you think they knew to find you?"
"That's a good question. They could have followed us when we drove over here from Eureka Valley. Someone at the switchboard here could have been listening when I made a couple of calls."
"Who did you call?"
"My secretary, Marnie Wilson." He started scribbling again.
"What did you tell her?"
"That I'd gone out for bread."
The lieutenant looked up. "What?"
"That's a code we use that means I'm hiding out."
"Huh. Who else did you call?"
"Carter Jones. He's down in Santa Paula with a couple of employees. They're helping the local fire department with an arson investigation."
"What did you tell Mr. Jones?"
"Same thing. Someone was listening in on that call. I heard a click after he hung up. He's at a little motel so it might have been the person at the switchboard down there. Or, it could have been here."
"And, didn't you check in under an alias?"
"Yes. Robert Parnell. But they knew that was me, somehow."
"Parnell?"
"My father's first name. And they knew that."
The lieutenant scribbled a while longer. Finally, he asked, "Where do you go now?"
I took a deep breath. "Since it's almost dawn, I'm going to the office."
Mike said, "First, we go check on Henry."
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Where will you stay tonight?" That was the lieutenant.
I had a sudden idea which surprised me but immediately made sense. It was probably the best solution. "I have a place we can hole up where no one will find us."
"Where is that?"
I smiled and said, "If I told you then you'd be able to find us, wouldn't you?"
The lieutenant nodded. "Fair enough. I'd rather know but I can always reach you through your office, right?"
I nodded. "Day and night. We have a service and I'll stay in touch with them after business hours."
The lieutenant closed his notebook. "Let me warn you, Mr. Williams. I don't like rogue private dicks who shadow the cops. You have a reputation for doing that." I stood there and listened. He looked down at Mike. "And I don't work at the North Station, so I ain't one of your buddies. You call me when you have something you need to report but I don't meet for chats over coffee. Got that?"
Mike stood up and said, "Fair enough."
The lieutenant nodded and was gone.
. . .
On the way out, we stopped at the front desk. The first shift was just coming in and they all looked a little dazed. I asked the first one I saw, "Who's the manager on duty right now?"
She replied, "Mr. Olander." That was who we'd talked to earlier when I'd checked in. "But he's busy right now."
"With the police?"
Her eyes widened but she replied, "I'm afraid I don't know."
I smiled and said, "I'm Mr. Williams. I'm checking out of my suite. Are you sure he can't see me?"
She looked doubtful but said, "Just one moment and I'll call." She walked over to a phone on the wall, picked it up, and said, "Hotel Manager, please."
I looked around the grand lobby. It was quiet, which wasn't surprising since it was just past 6 in the morning.
I heard the clerk say, "T
here's a Mr. Williams checking out and he wants to speak with you." She turned her back to us as she listened. She said, "Yes, sir," and then put the receiver on the hook.
She walked back to the counter, smiled, and said, "I really am sorry. Mr. Olander is busy. Is there somewhere he can reach you?"
Ignoring the question, I put the key on the counter. "You'll need to send someone in to check the damage to the living room drapes. Just send the bill to my office. Mr. Olander will know all about it." I wanted to declare, like the great Caruso, that I would never return. But I knew I would. It was the Mark Hopkins, after all.
Before she could reply, Mike and I walked through the lobby and out into the early morning light.
Chapter 5
Offices of Consolidated Security
Thursday, June 17, 1954
Around 10 in the morning
Henry wasn't happy and I couldn't blame him.
"And to top it all off, Universal has put a stop-work order out for the site."
I was at my desk. Henry was in one chair. Mike was in the other. Robert was leaning in the doorway. And, Marnie, as always, was listening from her desk.
"Is that what the call from Pam was about?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Who pays for that?" I asked.
Henry was indignant. "I'm not. And neither are you. Universal wants to renege on their contract, then they pay."
I said, "But it shouldn't land on the heads of the guys at the site. They should get paid."
He shook his head and said, "I wish I was back at Bechtel just working on drawings and estimates."
I looked at him straight-on. "Really?"
He looked away. "No, of course not." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. "They wouldn't have me back, anyway." He'd been fired the previous summer because a background check revealed his proclivities. The project he was scheduled to work on for several years required a security clearance he wouldn't be able to get. And, besides, they didn't like having a queer in their midst. Or, that's what I'd heard.
Robert asked, "Is Pam in any danger?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. When I talked to her early this morning, she and Diane hadn't received any calls. I told her to keep an eye and an ear open and to let us know if anything happened. But, so far, so good." Pam lived with Diane, a schoolteacher. They were our next-door neighbors. Carter referred to them as a "lady couple." They also had two annoying dogs that I ignored but who adored Carter. Like everyone else.
Mike snorted. "That's an advantage to her being a girl in construction. No one is taking her seriously."
Henry shook his head. "The men on that site do. She knows her stuff. That gal is the only reason we are ahead of schedule."
I looked around the room. "I have a plan for where Henry, Carter, and I are going to hole up for the next few days. We're gonna let the cops do their job and we'll keep our heads down. I still have to make one phone call. Mike and I are gonna walk over to the phone booth at the corner of Hyde and then we'll be back. Let's meet back here in fifteen."
We all stood up. "Oh, and Henry?"
"Yes, Nick?"
"Call Universal and set up a meeting at noon. I wanna find out what the hell Rutledge is up to."
He shrugged and said, "Sure."
. . .
"I'm still not sure what to call you." I was in the phone booth at Hyde and Bush. Mike was standing nearby, looking nonchalant as he read the Chronicle. I was talking to my father's new wife, and Marnie's mother, the former Mrs. Wilson.
"You could call me 'mother,' if you'd like, Nicholas."
Before I could help myself, I sighed.
She quickly said, "How about Lettie? That was my nickname in school. And I always liked it."
"Are you sure?" I asked. She was a stickler for protocol.
"Yes. Lettie it is." There was a brief pause on the line. "Is that the only reason you called?"
"No, it's not. Did you see this morning's papers?"
"If you're referring to that awful business at your building site, then yes. Are you involved in that?"
"In a way. It's a long story but Henry got a threatening call last night. Mike had us move but a couple of toughs tracked me down early this morning."
"Are you hurt?"
"No. But they're not doing very well."
Lettie snickered on the other end of the line. It gave me a secret thrill. "I never wish harm on anyone, but I can tell you I would enjoy seeing you 'lay out some toughs' someday."
I laughed heartily at that. "Well, I hope you never get the chance. But I appreciate your confidence."
"I suppose, then, that you want to move your little gang over here?"
"That's it in a nutshell."
"How many?"
"Well, there'd be Henry and Robert. Carter and myself. And then we'd need Mike to stay with us for added protection."
Proving once again what an amazing woman she was, Lettie said, "You can all move into the top floor. There are three rooms up there. I'll get those set up today. When should we expect you?"
"I'll send Henry and Robert over to help you."
"Nonsense. I can manage with the staff."
"Henry doesn't have anything to do. And Robert... Well, he's amazing. There's not anything he can't do."
"So, what you're saying is that they need to do a little work to earn their keep?"
I laughed again. "Sure. That's a good way to put it." I took in a deep breath. "What do you think my father will say?"
"You leave Parnell to me, Nicholas."
I said, "Thanks, Lettie."
"My pleasure. However, I must tell you that dinner will be served promptly at 6. If any of your group arrives late, it will be sandwiches in the kitchen. I can be flexible, but only to a point, dear."
. . .
There was a mild uproar at the office when I explained the plan. But, after everyone talked it out, it became the obvious solution and for one reason: my feud with my father was legendary. Although the wedding had, in many ways, been the biggest social event of the year to date, the casual observer would have thought we were still not on speaking terms. No one would think of looking for me there.
"Robert. You go first. Take Sam with you to your apartment, just in case." Sam was a big weight lifter we'd hired last Christmas. He was also Ike's squeeze. "Take a cab over here and drop him off. Then have the driver drop you off at the back of the Pacific Union Club. It's half a block from there. Got that?"
He nodded. "What should I do when I get there?"
"Take charge of getting the third floor set up. I've told my..." I paused. "Marnie's mother to expect you. And I told her about your whiz-bang skills. Those rooms have been closed off since '29, so there's probably a lot of work to be done."
I looked at Henry. "Mike is going with us to meet Rutledge at Universal. Then we'll take you to Sacramento Street and get you smuggled in, somehow. He and I will come back here and wait for Carter, Martinelli, and Ray to get back from Santa Paula."
"Then what?" asked Marnie.
"Then we let the cops do their job."
Marnie looked at me as if she didn't quite believe me. I winked and said, "Dinner is at 6 tonight. Don't be late."
She smiled. "I've known my mother all my life. I won't."
. . .
"I'm sure you're here about the stop-work order I issued for 600 Market Street."
Henry, Mike, and I were seated on one side of a large table in a conference room with a view of the bay. Rutledge and a man he'd introduced as William Troyer sat on the other. Troyer was taking over for Vernon Keller who was no longer working at Universal.
"Yes," I said. "What's going on?"
"Well, with the departure of Mr. Keller, I needed some time to bring Mr. Troyer up to speed with where the project is."
I asked, "The fastest way to do that is for him to meet with Pam Spaulding."
Troyer shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was a little older than me. His chestnut hair was slicked back f
rom his wide face. His belly was pressing on his shirt, straining the buttons. He looked uncomfortable in a coat and tie. He reminded me of the Seabees. Those were the Navy construction guys I'd known in New Guinea during the war. He probably had been one.
"About that," said Rutledge. "I don't think you need to have the additional budget expense of having two construction managers. Troyer here can manage the job site on his own."
I shook my head. "Nope. The contract says in black and white that the site will be managed by the person designated by Winters Engineering."
Rutledge looked at Henry, who nodded. "I know you're new to the game, Winters, but isn't it unusual for the building owner to make these kind of decisions?"
Henry, who seemed to have come alive now that Keller was out of the picture, said, "Well, it's like this, Mr. Rutledge. Nick is a major shareholder in Winters Engineering. When I was dumped by Bechtel, he put up the money for me to start my own firm."
Rutledge looked at me. A wave of distaste passed over his face. He muttered, "Birds of a feather..."
Mike cracked his knuckles meaningfully and put on his monster face. "That's right, Mr. Rutledge. We tend to flock together."
Rutledge sat up in his chair. Troyer looked like he was raring for a fight, but Rutledge just said, "Well, if it's in the contract, then that's that. I'm sure Mrs. Spaulding--"
"Miss Spaulding," I corrected him.
"Oh, I see. Well, I'm sure that will be just fine. Don't you think, Troyer?"
The man looked at me with an intense hatred and said, "Sure thing, Mr. Rutledge."
"So, back to the matter at hand," I said.
"Yes. About that stop-work order." Rutledge cleared his throat and said, "How about we resume on Monday? That should give us plenty of time."
"And what about the pay?" I asked.
"What pay?" That was Troyer.
"Will the men on the job site be paid for today and tomorrow?"
Rutledge said, "That's covered in the union contract. If there's a stop-work and they're idled, then, for those two days, their pay goes to a floor minimum."
I nodded. "I'll cover the difference."
Troyer looked over at me in surprise. His face relaxed a little.
The Mangled Mobster (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 7) Page 4