The Mangled Mobster (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 7)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  . . .

  By the time we walked out onto Grant, the sun had set and the neon lights of the City were filling the night sky. We strolled together to the corner of California. Mike said goodbye and kept going down Grant, while we climbed up California.

  Once we got to Sacramento Street, we entered the house through the kitchen door. Zelda had given us both a set of keys earlier in the day.

  The kitchen was empty and quiet. We passed through into the dining room and found my father sitting in front of the fire. The door to the garden was open, but the room was still warm. My father always loved a fire, even in the summer.

  Without saying hello or even looking up, he said, "Have a seat, will you?" His voice was softer than usual.

  I took off my coat and threw it over one end of the big sofa. As I rolled up my sleeves, Carter followed suit. We both sat down across from where he sat.

  My father had placed his pipe on the little ashtray stand next to his chair. He was holding a glass of something in a crystal tumbler. I looked closer and realized it was an Old Fashioned. I got up and asked Carter, "You want something?"

  Carter asked, "Is there any beer in the house?"

  My father nodded and said, "Mrs. Young likes Lucky. I'm sure there's a can or two in the icebox."

  I laughed. "Carter won't touch the stuff."

  My father looked over at me and smiled. "You got yourself a good man there, Nicholas."

  I sat back down, touched but more surprised than anything else. I nodded and said, "Yeah. I do."

  My father stood up. "I wanted to see you two before any of us went to bed. I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

  Carter stood up and shook my father's hand. "I wasn't thinking, Dr. Williams."

  My father shook his head. "This is happening very quickly. It's a good thing. And I am glad you will be here..." He smiled at me and said, "In this big pile of rocks..." I blushed. "Long after Leticia and I are gone." He looked around the big room. "It's a fine house. It'll do you proud. I promise." He drained his glass and handed it to me. "Good night, Nicholas."

  I stood up and replied, "Good night, Father."

  My father turned and looked up at Carter. "Good night, young man. Leticia reminded me tonight what a fine addition you are to this family of Welsh idiots."

  Carter and I both chuckled. He said, "Good night, Dr. Williams."

  My father looked at me for a long moment. "I love you, son."

  I just nodded because I couldn't speak right then.

  . . .

  As we were lying in bed, Carter sighed.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Your father never ceases to surprise me. Just when I think he's going one way, he goes another."

  "Yeah." I thought about Mike's reaction earlier and realized I was more in his camp than Carter. Of course, I liked Carter's mother much more than he did. It made sense. We each had a history with our parents that the other could never truly know about.

  I whispered, "You need to write your mother."

  He fidgeted and replied, "I guess so."

  "And now that we have five guests rooms..." Besides the three up on the third floor, there were two on the floor below. One had been Janet's childhood bedroom and the other had been mine. "There's plenty of room for her to stay here."

  "If she's invited, she'll probably stay across the street with your father and Lettie."

  "She might surprise you. Like my father."

  Carter pulled me in close. I sighed. He kissed my neck and bit down lightly on my ear. Just like I liked it.

  Chapter 11

  Offices of Consolidated Security

  Monday, June 21, 1954

  Around half past 9 in the morning

  I was just about to ask Marnie to call Mike when the outer door banged open and Henry stormed in.

  "Nick! That damn Rutledge is stalling again. He hasn't lifted the stop-work. I tried calling over there and his secretary won't put me through. All she'll do is take a message."

  "Are the guys at the site?"

  "Yes. And they're just milling around. Pam has been yelling until she's hoarse and none of them will work. They're right, of course. That would be in violation of their contract."

  I nodded and grabbed my hat. "Come on. Let's go find out what's going on over there."

  . . .

  Although it was only a fifteen-minute stroll, we grabbed the first cab we found and headed down to The Shell Building. When the driver pulled over to let us out, he said, "Lotta cops here. What gives?"

  I threw him a five and said, "Thanks. Keep the change." Henry and I piled out of the back and looked around. There were three patrol cars parked in front. I also recognized the car the coroner used to move bodies. I pulled Henry by the arm and said, "Come on."

  The lobby was full of people milling around. I stopped at the news stand and asked, "What goes on here?"

  "Big boss of Universal Construction on the seventh floor took one through the heart this morning."

  "Rutledge?" I asked.

  "That's him."

  "They know who did it?"

  "I hear it was Michael Abati. Some mob thing." He looked at me closely. "Hey! Ain't you--"

  I pushed a twenty in his palm and said, "Thanks for the tip. You didn't see me, got that?"

  He nodded and said, "Sure thing, Mister."

  Henry and I walked back outside. There was a phone booth right at the edge of the drive that led to the building's loading dock. I pushed inside, dropped a dime, and dialed the office.

  "Consolidated Security." It was Robert.

  "It's Nick. I need Mike right now."

  "Sorry, Nick. He went to go meet an informant."

  "What about Sam? Is he around?"

  "Sure. Hold on."

  After about thirty seconds, I heard Sam's voice. "Hiya, Nick."

  "Look. Rutledge, the President of Universal Construction, has just been murdered. You think you can find out if Abati was behind it?"

  "Sure." There was a long pause. "Only I don't think he was."

  "Why?"

  "When did it happen?"

  "Sometime this morning. Why?"

  "You think it was before 8:30?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, then I don't think it was Abati."

  I pulled the receiver from my ear and looked at it. I wanted to bang it against the glass wall of the booth. Instead, I said, "What are you not telling me, Sam?"

  "Well, you know how I know Abati's muscle, right?"

  "Sure."

  "So, when I went over to find him and ask him about that Russell guy and whether you or that Henry was on their list and found out you wasn't--"

  "What are you telling me, Sam?" This was driving me crazy.

  "Well, Georgie--"

  "Who's Georgie?"

  "That's the muscle. He and Ike and me, you see..." Suddenly it was all clear.

  "So, you're telling me that you and Ike are his alibi for last night and this morning?"

  "That's right."

  "I see." I was gonna have to have a conversation with Mike about all this. "So, is he the only muscle that Abati has?"

  "No. But isn't Rutledge a big deal?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, I don't think Abati would let anyone but Georgie do a job like that. He knows how to do it neat. Besides, if Georgie had done the other job, the body wouldn't have fallen outta the sky during the middle of the day. They'd be dredging the bay or something like that, looking for the body. Georgie ain't sloppy."

  "Got it." So, in other words, if Abati had been behind Rutledge's murder, they would still be looking for the body. Or not even know there was a body to be looking for yet. I took a deep breath. "Do your thing and find out what Abati's camp knows about this. I think they were leaning on Rutledge and had scared him."

  "I don't think so, Nick. But, I'll find out."

  "Thanks. And, Sam?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't shit where you eat."

  Sam laughed. "Yeah. You're right. B
ut I know your taste, Nick, and I think you might understand why."

  I hung up on him.

  . . .

  Henry and I walked up the two blocks on Market to the building site. We found a group of construction workers standing around, just inside the gate. Pam was holed up in the office and fuming.

  As we walked inside, she stood up and said, "What the hell is wrong with that Rutledge guy?"

  I replied grimly, "He's dead."

  Her face softened a little as she said, "Oh, shit."

  I nodded. "'Oh, shit,' is right." I thought for a moment. "What about the new guy?" I looked over at Henry, who was seated at his desk.

  He slapped his head and said, "Of course. Troyer. I'll call him right now."

  Pam sat down and asked, "Is he gonna be any better than that other idiot?"

  I nodded. "I think so. From the looks of him, I'd say he was a Seabee."

  Pam nodded thoughtfully.

  Right then Henry said, "William Troyer, please."

  There was a pause.

  "This is Henry Winters. I'm over at 600 Market--" He stopped and listened. "He did? Thanks." He dropped the phone and said, "He's on his way over."

  I nodded and looked around. "Any coffee around here?"

  Pam said, "Of course. Folger's." She pointed to a plug-in percolator on a little table in the corner. "The rule is that if you want it, and we don't have it, then you make it."

  I stood up and said, "Fair enough." As I was making a new pot, there was a knock on the door. Henry stood up and opened it.

  William Troyer walked in. I looked up and was surprised to see that his eyes were red, as if he'd been crying.

  He looked at me and said, "Have you heard?" He pulled out a big red handkerchief and blew his nose. Loudly.

  I nodded. "Yeah. You OK?"

  He waved me off and said, "Sure. That coffee?"

  I nodded. "Ready in a couple. How do you like it?"

  "Two sugars."

  I looked at Henry who said, "Mr. Troyer, this is Pam Spaulding, the site manager."

  Pam stood up and offered her hand. Troyer shook it, a little tentatively. She shook vigorously in return

  "Seabee?" she asked.

  He looked surprised. "Sure. All over the South Pacific. How'd you know?"

  She pointed at me. "Nick. He's smart like that. He's a private dick, after all."

  When Troyer looked at me, I just grinned and said, "I don't know about smart, but it's what I do."

  "How'd a private dick get the cash to build his own office building?"

  Pam and Henry both laughed. Pam asked, "When'd you move to San Francisco?"

  I handed Troyer his cup of coffee as he blushed. "'Bout three months ago."

  Pam said, "I'll explain it all to you later. You gotta a rescind on that stop-work for me?"

  Troyer blew on his coffee. "No." He looked wistful and as if he was about to cry. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I needed to clear my head so I thought I'd walk down here and see what's going on. Mr. Rutledge is the only one authorized to issue a rescind. I don't know who'll be in charge now that..." His voice cracked as he pulled out his handkerchief again.

  I asked, "How'd you get hired on at Universal?"

  "Used to work for Mr. Rutledge back in Connecticut."

  Henry said, "You don't sound like a Yankee."

  Troyer gave him a half-smile. "I'm from L.A., actually. Long story. But, Mr. Rutledge asked me to come out here and work for him."

  I nodded. "He was getting ready to drop Keller, right?"

  Troyer nodded and looked puzzled. "How'd you know?"

  I smiled. "It's what I do."

  He grinned. "Yeah, right." He took a drink of his coffee. "Keller was on his way out. And I was here to replace him. Course, Mr. Rutledge said he was expanding. He was just waiting for something to happen, if you get what I mean."

  I nodded. "Sure. Any idea where Keller slunk off to after he was fired?"

  Troyer shook his head. "No, why?" As he said that, I could see the light bulb go off over his head. "Oh. You think maybe Keller is involved in this?"

  I didn't say anything. I wanted to hear what he had to say.

  Henry knew well enough to just listen. Pam was watching the whole exchange and looking entertained by it all.

  Troyer's face turned from sad to angry in about three beats. "You think that S.O.B. killed Mr. Rutledge?"

  I shrugged. "I dunno. What do you think?"

  He banged his coffee cup down on Pam's desk. "He better hope I don't find him. Mr. Rutledge was like a father to me. I'll break the guy in half." Troyer's face was turning red.

  I said, "Hold on, there. No one knows anything. I'm just trying to put some of the pieces together."

  Right then, the phone rang. Henry picked it up and said, "Winters." As he waited, Troyer sat on the edge of Pam's desk. "Yes, he's here." Handing me the phone, he said, "It's Mike."

  "Yeah?"

  "You heard about Rutledge?"

  "Yeah."

  "Not alone?"

  "Nope."

  "Well, Sam made that call. He's adamant that Abati wasn't involved. But that was probably the last call like that he'll be able to make for a while. We don't wanna stir up a hornet's nest over there."

  "Sure. What else?"

  "When are you coming back over?"

  "In about ten minutes, or so."

  "Good. I'll tell you the rest when you get here."

  I said, "Fine. Thanks." I handed the receiver back to Henry who put it on the cradle.

  "Troyer, did the police question you already?"

  He nodded. He was calmer but not much.

  "Did you tell them about Keller?"

  "No. They didn't ask."

  I nodded. "If I talk to them, I'll tell them. Otherwise, you might plan on calling Lieutenant Holland and telling him sometime today."

  "Who?"

  "Lieutenant Holland. Isn't he the one who interviewed you?"

  "No. I didn't get the guy's name. I was too broke up."

  I nodded sympathetically. "Was he in uniform?"

  "Yeah."

  I wondered why Holland didn't interview the guy himself. I said, "Sorry about your friend. He was obviously a good guy trying to do the right thing."

  With that, I put on my hat and made my way back to the office. This was Henry's job, after all. He could work out the details around the stop-work. I had my own job to do.

  . . .

  Mike was waiting for me in my office when I got back. I put my hat on the rack and had a seat behind my desk. "What else?" I asked.

  "Gotta call from Holland right before I called you. I told him what Sam had found out."

  "Good. Did he blow you a kiss over the phone?"

  Mike shook his head. "Anyway, he said the slug was from a .45."

  "Yeah. There's a million of those floating around."

  "But this one was silver."

  "A silver bullet? Who are we dealing with? The Lone Ranger--" Suddenly I stopped. "Damn." I sat back in my chair. I felt like a fool, but my eyes got wet.

  "Yeah."

  I shook my head. "The diaries." I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

  "From your Uncle Paul?"

  "Yeah. I can't believe they're gone. I shoulda put 'em in the safe here." I picked up a metal ashtray and threw it against the wall. "Damn!"

  Marnie got up and stood in the doorway. "You OK, Nick?"

  I shook my head. "No. But I'm gonna get OK. Thanks, doll" I tried to smile but it didn't take.

  Marnie and Mike waited for me to come back to myself. When it was over, I blew my nose into my handkerchief. I tried to make it as loud as Troyer, but I don't think I did.

  "So," I said as I put away my handkerchief, "The son of a bitch has my silver Peacemaker. And, somehow, he found the box of silver bullets. They were in two different places." I looked at Mike. "You know."

  Mike nodded. He'd taught me to keep ammunition and guns apart from each other at home, just in case.

&
nbsp; "I wonder what else he took, besides that and half a million dollars." I heard Marnie gasp. I ignored it because I realized what I'd just said. Sitting up in my chair, I said, "So, whoever killed Rutledge is who set the fire."

  Mike nodded silently. He was obviously way ahead of me. He asked, "But, why?"

  I said, "Well, if it was that sleazeball Keller, he had plenty of reasons to kill Rutledge."

  "Who's Keller?" Mike asked.

  I explained and he sat up in his chair. "So, you think he's the one who threatened Henry?"

  I nodded. "Now we know the fire and the murder are connected."

  Mike said, "It's possible that they're not."

  "The gun and the bullets? The gun would have melted in that heat. Or become unusable. No. Whoever killed Rutledge broke into the house, ransacked it, and then set the fire to cover his tracks."

  "What I wanna know is how anyone knew about that safe. Even I didn't know where it was."

  I nodded. "Yeah. The company that built out the space for the safe wasn't the same company that installed the safe. And then we had a third guy--" I snapped my fingers. "Wait. The third guy. What was his name?"

  Marnie, who had been standing there all along, said, "Hold on, Nick. I got his name here in my book."

  As we waited, I looked at Mike with a smile and said, "I'm tending to agree with Carter about Holland, by the way."

  Mike shrugged. "That's your opinion. Where's Carter, by the way?"

  "He's at the house with his captain. His old captain, that is. And don't change the subject."

  Mike shrugged again, "I don't care whether he is or isn't."

  I laughed. "Oh, brother. You like him, don't you?"

  Mike shook his head a little too vigorously.

  I couldn't help myself. "You do! You like him."

  Right then, there was knock on the door. As I hooted a bit, Marnie stood up and answered it. I stopped laughing when I saw who it was. Without anyone saying anything, Mike turned beet red. I started laughing again.

  Lieutenant Holland grinned at me, took off his hat, and asked, "What's so funny?"

  I tried to get it together. "Mike. He's a real card sometimes. He can make you laugh your ass off." I waved Holland in. "Have a seat, Lieutenant."

  The lieutenant looked over at Mike for a beat too long before sitting down. I asked, "What brings you over here?"

  "I wanted to ask you about that silver bullet we found. Seems like one of our guys in ballistics knew you had a box of them."