The Mangled Mobster (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 7)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Have you ever told Greg that?"

  Mike shook his head. I rolled my eyes. He continued, "About that same time, Sam reports in and lets me know that there's no mob connection to the fire."

  "Go on."

  "You guys go to Union Square, by yourselves." He said that last with a tone of warning. "And blithely report that you were keeping a watch out and that you weren't followed. That still gets me."

  I just shrugged.

  He said, "But that does seem to confirm that the mob isn't involved."

  "See?"

  "No, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. Next time, if there is a next time, get backup. Got it?"

  "Sure." I crossed my arms. "What happened next?"

  "That night, on Saturday, we have the party at your father's house and you announce you're moving in there."

  "Why include that in the story?"

  "I don't know for sure, but it seems like it's part of what's going on. But I can't put my finger on it."

  "The next thing that happened is very clear. We went over on Sunday morning and opened the safe. It was empty."

  Mike nodded as he sipped from his tea cup. "What's next?"

  "We had dinner here and you told us about how you were feeling about Ray."

  Mike shrugged, "So?"

  "What if I was right? What if Ray is involved in all of this somehow?"

  Mike sighed but he made a note. "Go on."

  "That's when I first mentioned how Greg had been concerned for me."

  Mike nodded. "Right."

  "Next thing is that Rutledge is murdered. Sam and Ike, it turns out, had a date with the only mob muscle who would've been used if it had been a hit. The police confirm that a silver bullet was used. That makes it look like whoever killed Rutledge also torched the house. He ransacked the place first, found Uncle Paul's silver Peacemaker and the silver bullets. This was likely the same person who opened the safe that only one other person in the world knew about--"

  "Whoa, Nick. Too many assumptions. Let's back up. What do we actually know?"

  I got his point. "First, the safe was opened by someone. Only person who knew about it was Randolph Keller, brother of Vernon Keller, who live in the same house. Second, the bullet in Rutledge was silver. Third, the Keller brothers had skipped by the time Greg got a warrant to serve on them."

  "Let's leave that there and move on."

  I said, "Next thing is that Greg comes in the office on Tuesday morning and is a mess. He admits he loves you and is being blackmailed."

  "Nick--"

  "But, this is relevant. If we're gonna keep all the options open, this is a strike against him."

  Mike wasn't happy but he nodded and made a note. "What else?"

  "Greg and I have a bite at the Old Poodle Dog where we're spotted by some of Abati's men. Later in the day, Greg resigns. We're summoned to the Old Poodle Dog to meet with Johnny DiLuca and Abati's kid."

  "Yeah. Let's talk about that. What the hell?"

  "Two things. DiLuca was sniffing around to find out what we knew about the police. I think he left convinced they knew nothing, which would be right since I don't think the mob is involved with any of this." I took a sip of my tea. It was cold.

  "What's the other thing?"

  "DiLuca is trying to dump Junior Abati on us. He's obviously one of us, after all."

  Mike nodded. "That's my thought, too. Why bring the kid along? I'm sure DiLuca was involved in the Nick DeJohn murder and he somehow skated without an indictment."

  "Did you work on that case?"

  "No. It was before my promotion."

  I nodded. "I don't think we were being leaned on."

  "What about the wine trick?" He shook his head. "Poor Henry."

  "I know. More sniffing around. Or maybe Junior did it. Who knows."

  "Would you hire Abati's son? His name is Joseph, by the way. The real junior died when he was less than a year old."

  "Didn't know that." I paused and thought. "No, in answer to your question, I wouldn't. That might be DiLuca's plan but I wonder what Papa Abati thinks. I doubt his dream is for his son to come work with a buncha queers."

  Mike nodded. "OK. Last thing. Lysander Blythe. Why did he try to cop to setting the fire and who killed him?"

  "Someone leaned on him to take the fall and, when that didn't work, they did him in." I stood up and stretched. Seemed like we'd been there all day. I put down a ten and said, "But it's kinda like pushing Russell's body off a building into a crowded construction site. It's messy and sloppy and unnecessary."

  Mike nodded slowly and thoughtfully as he stood up. "Yeah. It is"

  Chapter 18

  Offices of Consolidated Security

  Wednesday, June 23, 1954

  About 6 in the evening

  "You're gonna get us in so much trouble with Mrs. Kopek."

  Everyone was gone for the day. Carter had locked the door and made a mess on the floor of my office when he'd pushed everything off the desk and started taking off his coat and tie. It had been a hell of a lot of fun, though.

  We were dressed and picking things up. He was smiling at me in a way that made me want to repeat the whole thing over again.

  "Speaking of that, Nick. Do we really need a chauffeur?"

  "No. But we need a gardener. And Ferdinand comes with Gustav."

  "I didn't realize we were moving in the whole Czechoslovakian relief agency."

  I stood up and looked over at him. "We aren't. You do remember dinner from last night, don't you?"

  He nodded. "It was good. I'll admit it."

  I smiled. "The way I figure it, we have about half a person too many. The gardener should come into work half a day, at the most. But, Carter, those two. We can't break 'em up."

  "You really like them, don't you?"

  "I like Gustav. I think I can learn to like Ferdinand once he gets down off his high horse."

  We had finished putting everything back. Carter walked over and pulled me into his arms. "OK. They can stay," he said.

  "You're lucky I love you."

  "Why's that?"

  I looked up. "This was your plan all along. Ain't my fault if you didn't think it through."

  Carter pulled back. "I didn't know everyone from Zelda all the way down would quit on us."

  "If you'd asked me, I could've told you."

  "Is that right?" He leaned in and kissed me.

  I didn't even try to answer.

  . . .

  When we walked into the kitchen from the garage, we found all the staff sitting at the big kitchen table eating. Mrs. Kopek stood up and said, "We no hear, so we eat." Her face was a cross between reproach and regret.

  I said, "Have a seat. What's for dinner?"

  Remaining standing, she said, "Fish for you. Steak for Mr. Carter."

  I put my hat on the counter and said, "Sounds good. Do you mind if we join you?"

  Everyone looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. I just kept going. "Mrs. Kopek. Carter. You two sit down. I'll fix our plates." I did just that while Carter helped Mrs. Kopek back to her seat at the far end of the table. He then brought over two extra chairs so we could sit across from each other.

  The first course was a mushroom soup. I ladled up a bowl for each of us and brought them to the table, handing off one to Carter who smelled it appreciatively. Everyone else was watching me like I was one of the monkeys at the zoo.

  I sat down and said, "Thanks for letting us join you. This is where I ate for the first twelve years of my life and I have lots of good memories here. Ida, can you pass the bread, please?"

  The long, tall girl looked around, slightly panicked, but didn't move.

  "The bread?" I asked again. I pointed to the basket next to her arm.

  She looked at Mrs. Kopek who said something in Czech. Ida picked up the basket and handed it to Ferdinand, who was sitting to my left, and who put it down in front of me. I said, "Thank you."

  I took out a piece and, following everyone else's examp
le, I put it on the table. "Here you go, Carter." He grinned as I passed it over to him.

  Ferdinand made a comment in Czech. Ida laughed but Nora and Gustav didn't. Mrs. Kopek said something sharp back to him in rebuke.

  That was enough for me. "OK, kids. Here's how this is gonna work."

  Carter said, "Whoa--"

  I raised my hand and shook my head. "Nope. My house. My rules. Ready?" I looked at Mrs. Kopek, who eyes were wide. She just nodded.

  "First off, no more Czech. Or Polish. Or German. Or Russian. Just English. Everyone got that?"

  They all nodded quietly.

  "Second. This isn't the old days. I'm not the King of England and this ain't Buckingham Palace." This made Nora and Gustav laugh. I smiled at Nora. I couldn't see Gustav. He was on the other side of Ferdinand.

  "Third. We don't have the kind of lives where we know when we're gonna be home at night. That ain't gonna happen. So, Mrs. Strakova, you cook what you want to cook and, if we're here when it's ready, we'll sit down and eat with you. But if we're not, then we'll eat leftovers. Understand?"

  Mrs. Strakova, who was sitting at the head of the table, nodded in obvious relief.

  "By the way, we both agree you are a marvelous cook." I pointed at my bowl. "This is the most delicious soup I've ever eaten." I looked around the table. "Don't we all agree?"

  Everyone but Ferdinand nodded. I leaned in and said, "You better damn well nod or I'll take you out back and kick your ass."

  Carter burst out laughing as did the three other kids. Ferdinand solemnly said, "Yes, Mrs. Strakova, this is the most delicious soup I have ever eaten." He brought his spoon to his mouth and put some in his mouth. After he swallowed, "So delicious. It is the greatest treasure of the Earth." I couldn't see his face, but whatever he was doing made Mrs. Strakova blush hard and pull her apron over her face for a moment.

  I leaned in and whispered, "Good job, kid. Thank you."

  He whispered back, "You are welcome, Mr. Nick." And he seemed to mean it.

  I surveyed the table. Everyone looked much more relaxed. Mrs. Kopek asked, "No more dinner in dining room?"

  I nodded. "Unless we're having guests. I'd rather eat in here."

  Carter piped up. "Me, too."

  I said, "Since we're laying down the rules, do you have any, Mr. Carter?"

  He smiled at me from across the table. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Nick, I do." He looked around at everyone and said, "Don't come into our bedroom when the door is closed. I can't be held responsible for what you might find."

  The four kids laughed. Mrs. Kopek and Mrs. Strakova blushed.

  . . .

  We were in bed, talking about nothing much, when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

  Carter said, "I'll get it." He stood up, pulled on his trousers and a shirt. As he did so, there was another knock. "Coming!" Once he was presentable enough, he opened the door.

  It was Ferdinand. "The phone. For Mr. Nick." He looked around Carter at me and smiled. It was an odd expression. Smiling wasn't his strong suit.

  I said, "Who is it?"

  "He didn't say."

  Carter said, "When you answer the phone, be sure to ask who is calling."

  Ferdinand simply nodded, turned on his heel, and walked away. Carter turned and looked at me. "What's his problem?"

  "I think we may have found one human being who isn't automatically in love with you. Welcome to my life." By this time, I was up and pulling on my trousers. As I grabbed my shirt, he jumped behind me and stuck his fingers between my ribs. Without thinking, I yelped. "Hey!"

  "Everyone loves Carter Jones."

  I turned and looked at him. He was grinning like a tomcat. "I can't speak for everyone, Mr. Carter, but I certainly do."

  He just shook his head. "Knock off the high-hat talk. Just 'cause we're on Nob Hill--"

  I stood on my toes and kissed him. That was the best response.

  . . .

  I picked up the phone and said, "Yeah?"

  "Nick, it's Greg."

  "Where the hell are you?"

  "I'm in Carmel."

  "Why?"

  "I needed to clear my head. I took a long drive and ended up here. My car transmission died. And I'm stranded. I tried to call Mike, but he's not home." His voice was pitiful.

  I looked at my watch. It was just before 11. "Where are you?" I asked.

  "At the Hide-A-Way Motel on Highway 1."

  "How are you set for cash?"

  "That's the deal. I left my wallet at home. I happened to have a ten in my pocket..."

  "OK. How much do you have left?"

  "About three bucks and some change."

  I stood there and thought for a moment. This was either some sort of weird trap to lure me to Carmel. Which made no sense. Carmel? I could see someone luring me to South City or Richmond, but Carmel? Or he was seriously in trouble and had no one to call.

  The operator came on the line and said, "Please deposit thirty more cents for another three minutes." I heard the bells ring as Greg did just that.

  "Is there a phone in your room?"

  "--" He said something but it wasn't clear.

  "Greg?"

  "Yeah."

  "Is there a phone in your room?"

  "Yes. Didn't you hear me the first time?"

  "No."

  "Well, it's real windy--" He cut out again.

  I just plowed ahead. "Are you registered under your name?"

  "Sure." That was clear.

  "OK. Get back there and I'll call you."

  "I'm just across--". He cut out again and then the line went dead.

  I put the phone back in its cradle. Ferdinand, as he'd done the night before, was standing next to the dining room.

  "New rule for you, Ferdinand."

  "What?"

  "Put on some clothes when you go wandering around the house." He was, once again, padding around in just a pair of drawstring pants.

  "Yes, Mr. Nick." He smiled again. It was kind of creepy, truth be told.

  I laughed. "Are you really happy or did someone tell you to smile more?"

  "Gustav say I should smile more."

  I looked at him for a moment. "Is that how you smile at him?"

  "No."

  "I didn't think so. Ask him to help you practice."

  "Yes, Mr. Nick." This was more solemn. Somehow, that fit him.

  "One other rule."

  "What?"

  "You don't need to wait for me when I'm on the phone."

  He nodded and was gone without so much as a "good night."

  I picked up the phone and dialed zero.

  "Operator."

  "Long distance."

  "One moment."

  I waited as there were several clicks.

  Another voice said, "Long distance."

  "I'm calling Carmel. Person-to-person from Nick Williams to Greg Holland. The Hide-A-Way Motel on Highway 1."

  "One moment."

  After a long pause followed by a couple of clicks, the voice returned. "All circuits into Carmel are busy. Shall I try again in five minutes?"

  "Thank you." I put the receiver down and wandered into the office. I hadn't really spent any significant time in there since my father had left.

  A part of me wanted to snoop in his desk but I knew it was locked. Of course, I could have easily picked the lock and never left any traces, but I decided not to. Instead I just walked around and admired the construction of the room. The walls were paneled, as was the ceiling. It was all beautifully done. I couldn't remember the exact history. I made a mental note to ask my father when he and Lettie got back.

  I remembered being constantly curious about that room when I was a kid. And now it was mine. I was free to tap on the walls and finally find the hidden passage door I had been convinced existed.

  Just as I was starting to tap on the wall to the left of the door, the phone rang. I ran back into the hall and picked it up.

  "Yeah?"

  "This is long distanc
e."

  "Do you have that call for Carmel?"

  "No, sir. I was just informed that the lines between Monterey and San Jose are down because of a windstorm. All lines into Carmel go through Monterey."

  "Right. Any idea when they'll be back up?"

  "No, sir. Usually these things take a couple of hours to repair."

  "Would this affect Western Union?"

  "I can connect you but I believe it does."

  "Connect me, anyway."

  "Yes, sir. My apologies for the inconvenience."

  "Well, you didn't knock the poles down yourself, but thank you."

  This got a small snicker, which may have been a first.

  "Western Union."

  "I'm wondering if I can send a telegram to Carmel, California, and when it would arrive."

  "One moment."

  I waited as several pages were turned.

  "We can deliver a telegram after 7 tomorrow morning. Otherwise, it will be called in if you have a phone number for the receiving party at no extra charge."

  "The long distance operator just told me the lines between Monterey and San Jose are down because of the wind."

  "In that case, the telegram would be delayed. I believe those lines are the same that we use."

  "Thank you. I'll try something else."

  "Have a good night."

  "You, too." I put the phone down and thought about what to do next. I didn't like the idea of making Greg wait, poor guy.

  I picked up the phone and tried Mike's number.

  "Hello?"

  "It's Nick. Where've you been?" I sounded a little more accusatory than I meant to.

  "Not that it's any of your business, but I just finished up a long, raging fight with Ray."

  "Sorry about that. You OK?"

  "Sure."

  "Is Ray OK? He's not in the hospital or anything?" I'd been decked by Mike. I wouldn't recommend the experience.

  He laughed. "No. He's probably drowning his sorrows."

  "What happened?"

  "Well, he was--"

  I interrupted him. "Sorry, Mike. Tell me later."

  "Sure." He was irritated.

  "Greg called me a few minutes ago."

  "He did?"

  "Yeah. He's stranded in Carmel. He was on a payphone. I told him I'd call him back in his motel room but then the lines went down and now there's no way to call him or send a telegram. Not for a couple of hours, at least."