It was just past 10 when our cab pulled in front of the Hide-A-Way Motel. Carter and I waited outside while Mike asked for Greg's room. We weren't sure he would even be there. None of us had thought to call him from the police station.
Mike walked out, smiling, and motioned us to follow him. As we walked down the row of rooms, I saw a familiar brand-new '54 Cadillac parked in front of Room 7. I nudged Carter, who nodded, but neither of us said anything. No one wants kids to interrupt a honeymoon, or second honeymoon, or whatever it was.
When we got to Room 11, Mike knocked on the door. Greg Holland, looking clean and spiffy, like he'd just gotten out of the shower opened the door. When he saw that it was us, he slammed the door closed.
I moved Mike over and said, "Greg. Let us in. We left right after you called. But then we got run off the road. We just got back from the police station."
The door opened. "Yeah?" He looked at me darkly.
Mike reached above my head and pushed the door open."Yes."
Carter muscled in and pushed me forward, making Greg back up. "When my husband tells you something, you'd better believe him. None of us have had any sleep. We came down here at midnight to save your sorry ass. Now, sit down and let Mike tell you all about it. Then you two make out, or whatever. Meanwhile, Nick and I are gonna get a room and make some phone calls and do unnatural things. Got it?"
Greg was laughing by this time and just nodded his head. Mike walked over, leaned down, put his hands around Greg's head, and began to seriously make out with the man. It was real sweet.
. . .
Once we were checked into Room 22, I got on the horn and called the office.
"Nick! Where are you? Mrs. Kopek is frantic. Henry has called three times. What's going on?" It was Marnie.
I briefly explained the situation. "We'll spend the night here and come back in the morning. Would you call Mrs. Kopek and tell her?
"Sure."
"Have you heard from your mother?"
"She sent a telegram this morning. They're down there in Carmel."
"I know. We saw my father's car in the parking lot here at the Hide-A-Way Motel."
"Are you gonna let them know you're there?"
"No. I don't wanna interrupt their trip."
"Mother won't like that."
"What she doesn't know--"
"Nick! I can't lie to Mother."
"Really? Does she know that you and Alex are already shacked up?"
"Nick! You wouldn't! You're the meanest brother ever!"
I laughed. "How long have you been waiting to use that line?"
"Since Christmas."
. . .
"Henry, it's Nick."
"Where are you?"
"Carmel. Long story. What's up?"
"Abati's men have leaned on me, again."
"What do they want?"
"The payoff for the concrete that we never gave Russell."
"How much?"
"Two grand."
"Fine. You have it?"
"Yes, but--"
"Just go get it and pay them off. Cost of doing business. I'll reimburse you, like I said I would before."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Just make sure to get it in hundreds and write down the serial numbers. That's just good backup."
"Right. When will you be back?"
"Tomorrow sometime. We'll meet up in the next couple of days and I'll tell you what's happened. Here's the bottom line. We know who killed Russell and Rutledge and torched the house." I didn't think he knew about Lysander Blythe and that wasn't the time.
"Was it Vernon Keller?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"He's the only connection."
"That's right. You ever get tired of engineering and project management, you can come work for me."
"I'll stick to what I know, but thanks for the offer."
. . .
After some rolling around in the hay, a long nap, and a longer shower, we got dressed and went out for an early dinner. The fog was thick and it was chilly.
As the cab was taking us to a restaurant the owner of the motel had suggested, we passed a Mercury dealership. I said, "Stop here."
The guy pulled over, I threw him a five, and we got out. We walked the half a block to the small showroom. I wondered if they had any cars in stock or if they had them shipped in on order, like in the old days.
We walked in and a short, stout blonde man walked up. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Carter said, "I'm looking for a--" I pulled on his coat sleeve and pointed. Right in the middle of the circular showroom was a vanilla convertible. The seats were covered in a beautiful saddle leather. We walked over there and just looked at it.
Without saying a word, the salesman opened the door, reached down, pushed the seat back, and then gestured. Carter got in and put his hands on the steering wheel.
"It's a V-8. Three speed manual. You can add--"
"Sold," said Carter.
I laughed as the man looked at Carter and then at me. "Should we take a test drive?"
Carter jumped out, slammed the door closed, and said, "No, sir. Just show me where to sign. My banker here will write you a check."
I smiled and nodded as the bewildered man said, "Let me talk to my manager. One moment." He walked off shaking his head.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really."
"You don't want to--"
"When have you ever taken a car for a test drive?"
I shrugged. "Never. But that's me. Spending..." I looked at the invoice. "Just under three grand is a big leap for you."
Carter looked down at me. "I learned from the master."
I shrugged. "Who am I to argue?"
. . .
An hour later, Carter pulled the Mercury into the last spot in the small parking lot next to a building that was barely more than a shack. The place was called Giuseppe's and was supposed to have good Italian dishes. Carter, on his way to finally letting garlic be a part of his life, had agreed after I promised I would taste the sauce first.
We walked in and were greeted by a dark-haired woman of about 40. "Welcome to Giuseppe's. For dinner?"
I nodded. "Just the two of us."
She smiled and said, "Five minutes, please." The place didn't have a bar, so we waited in the corner by the door. I looked around. The place was very cozy. The tables were covered in red-and-white checkered tablecloths and there were candles on each table. The aromas from the kitchen were tantalizing. I was looking forward to a big dinner and then getting to bed early. And that's when I saw my father and Lettie. They were seated at a table in the back, drinking red wine, and laughing about something.
I whispered to Carter, "They're here. What do you want to do?"
He glanced at the table and said, "They look like they're having fun." He smiled. "Too late."
I looked and Lettie was motioning us over. My father was smiling. We made our way to their table.
"Hello, boys. This is a nice surprise." Lettie's voice was warm and inviting. My father stood up to shake Carter's hand and then mine.
I said, "We're actually staying at the Hide-A-Way but didn't want to bother you."
My father smiled. "That was very considerate of you, Nicholas." He looked around for the waiter, who walked over. "This is my son and his friend. Can you bring us two chairs so they can join us?"
The man nodded. "Of course." He brought over the chairs and, after moving a few things around, we all sat down.
"So," began Lettie, "What brings you two down here?"
I said, "Let's get some beer and then we'll tell you all about it."
The evening stretched into several hours as we gave them a few of the highlights of our adventures and heard all about theirs. They had arrived in Carmel on Monday evening and decided they didn't want to go any further. My father told us that he was thinking about buying a ranch south of town. They had already been to see it and Lettie was in love with the place. The house was modern and had
a panoramic view of the ocean. I had a feeling we might be coming down a lot.
As we were eating, I asked, "But, Lettie, I thought you didn't like staying hotels?"
My father cocked his head to the side and asked, "Is that true, Leticia?"
She smiled and said, "You are correct, Nicholas. I don't like hotels. Not one bit. But a motel..."
For some reason, my father blushed. Carter stifled a laugh and I quickly changed the subject. Whatever it was, I didn't want to know.
. . .
We told them about our all-Czechoslovakian staff. Lettie was enchanted with the idea. My father was very... tolerant. I figured once he saw what was happening, he might have a few opinions to get off his chest.
My father insisted on paying for dinner, so I let him. It was the first time I'd been to a restaurant with my father that I could remember. When I noticed how small the tip was, I couldn't help but drop an extra twenty on the table as my father was helping Lettie into her coat. Carter noticed and smiled in a way that made me feel nice and warm inside.
We went outside to the small parking lot and showed off Carter's new car. He was just as proud of it as if it was a baby. At one point he mentioned it was only the second car he'd ever bought. I knew about the first one, an old Ford he and Henry had driven across the country to get to San Francisco. But I had never thought about how he hadn't had one since selling that one for fifty bucks. When my father heard that amount, he laughed and said he thought the dealer was being generous.
. . .
Before going back to the motel, we drove over to a spot overlooking the ocean and sat there with the engine running and the heater blowing. We had put the top down and I was sitting in the crook of Carter's arm.
"That was one of the best meals I can ever remember having."
I nodded and said, "I agree." I sighed. "They're so much in love."
"Yes. And they belong here."
I sighed. "Just like we belong in that big pile of rocks."
Carter squeezed me, leaned over, and kissed me deeply until it got too cold.
. . .
Before we left Carmel the next morning, we went to the Monterey police impound lot. The Buick was being held as evidence. I had called the local dealer and asked if one of their mechanics could meet us there.
Once the man got a good look at the damage, he said, "The frame is bent. I'd be happy to repair it for you, but you're just wasting your dough."
I couldn't say anything. Carter said, "You want it for parts?"
"Nah. Not us. But I have a cousin who would. He can strip it and junk it. Probably give you fifty bucks for it."
Carter handed the man a hundred. "If you could take care of that for us, we'd appreciate it."
The guy's eyes popped when he looked at the bill. "Sure thing, Mister."
I could feel my eyes getting wet. I was going to miss that car.
. . .
Carter pulled the Mercury to the curb on Van Ness in front of McAlister's Buick.
"What are we doing here?"
"Getting you a new car."
I looked at my watch.
Carter said, "We have plenty of time. They don't get in until 8." We were meeting Aunt Velma and Mrs. Jones at the airport.
I nodded. "OK."
Once we were inside, my eye was drawn to a car I'd never seen before. I walked over and looked at it. It was a big '54 Roadmaster convertible coupe. The body was red and the cover was white. The hood had a snub nose and the trunk was squared off. I liked the look of the beast.
"Is this it?" asked Carter.
I nodded. "I was thinking about a Skylark, but it would always remind me of Janet. Besides, they're not that powerful."
"Why not a Super?"
"Not yet."
. . .
We were standing next to the Mercury as The Laconic Lumberjack rolled up and parked about two hundred feet from us. The sun was setting and the sky was full of long streaks of cloud colored with pink and orange and purple. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold, either.
I was glad Aunt Velma and Mrs. Jones had wanted to wait a day to get things together before they left. Otherwise, Marnie would've had to pick them up the night before while we were in Carmel. I was honestly looking forward to seeing them both.
Once the propellers had stopped, a couple of men in blue coveralls rolled a portable stairway in front of the plane's door. I saw Captain Morris salute us from the cockpit window. I smiled and waved in return.
As soon as the stairs were in place, we walked over to the bottom and waited. One of the men bounded up and knocked on the airplane door. We started up the steps as he walked down. Christine, the stewardess and wife of the captain, opened the door. She said, "Hello, Mr. Williams. Mr. Jones."
I smiled. "Hello, Christine. Good flight?"
"Yes. And I so enjoyed getting to know our passengers. The day just flew by. Seems like we just left."
We followed her in. Aunt Velma and Mrs. Jones were waiting for us. We exchanged hugs with Aunt Velma. Carter got a kiss on the cheek from his mother. I got a nice handshake from her gloved hand.
Once we were down the stairs and loading the Mercury, Mrs. Jones asked, "Is this a new car?"
I smiled. "It's Carter's. He finally bought one."
She nodded but didn't say anything. I wondered if this had been a good idea.
. . .
The drive home was fine enough. Carter drove, Aunt Velma and I talked, and Mrs. Jones said very little.
As we pulled into the garage, Mrs. Jones said, "This is such a large house."
Carter said, "It is, Mama. I think you'll like it."
There was no response.
. . .
It was nearly 9 in the evening when we walked into the kitchen. Gustav came in from the dining room. He was wearing his oddly tailored morning suit. We made introductions.
Aunt Velma looked around and said, "I think this is bigger than our kitchen at home, don't you agree, Louise?"
Mrs. Jones looked around and said, "I really couldn't say."
I glanced at Carter, who looked disappointed.
. . .
Gustav and Ferdinand brought in their luggage. Mrs. Kopek and Nora showed them their rooms on the third floor and helped them both unpack.
Carter and I, meanwhile, sat in the great room.
"Do you want a fire?" I asked.
Carter shook his head. He stood up and walked over to the double doors that led out to the garden and opened them up. "Stuffy in here."
"Nervous?" I asked.
He turned on me. "This is your fault. I would've told you not to do this." He crossed his arms and stood there, glowering in the light of the floor lamp.
I stood up and walked over. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.
He relaxed. "I know you meant well."
I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't smile.
"Nothing?" I asked.
He sighed and kept his arms crossed.
"Is this about sleeping with me in the same house as your mother?"
He furrowed his brow and nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"I understand."
"Yeah. I guess you do at that."
Right then, I could hear the sounds of several people coming down the stairs. We could hear them talking as they did.
"Yes. I tell my Ivan that I don't care who he love. I only want him be happy." That was Mrs. Kopek.
I looked at Carter, who was blushing intensely.
"Well, I don't know--" That was Mrs. Jones.
"Louise. What's done is done. It's time for you to realize how lucky you are." That was Aunt Velma.
"I have to get used to it, is all. I'm here aren't I?"
As they came into the great room, Mrs. Kopek said, "That is most important of all."
Carter walked over to his mother, nervously put his hands in his pockets, and said, "She's right, Mama. That's the most important thing of all."
I could hear the emotion in his voice. She
looked up at him for a long moment. Finally, she opened her arms and said, "Just give me time."
Carter hugged her and said, "As long as it takes, Mama."
My eyes were getting wet again.
. . .
On the following Monday, I met with Kenneth Wilcox. He was my lawyer. Until April, his offices had been on the fourth floor of our building on Bush Street. But, his operation got too big for the cramped space so he was now over on Pine in a small office building I'd bought. Once the building on Market was done, they would move in there with the rest of us.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kenneth was sitting behind his desk. His face was wrinkled with concern.
"Yeah. Why?"
He shrugged. "I just never saw you as the kind of guy who would own a construction company."
I smiled. "That's the whole point. I won't."
"But, you will. You'll own fifty-one percent."
I waved away his concern. "That's just to start. I doubt I'll own any of it after a few years. What did their lawyer say?"
"The board is happy to sell. Without Thomas Rutledge, there's no one qualified to run it."
"What about Troyer? Did you make it clear that retaining him was a condition of the sale?"
Kenneth nodded. "Sure. That was fine. You got everything you wanted."
I looked out the grimy window of his small office and thought about Rutledge and his senseless death. "I guess so."
. . .
I walked back down to Bush after I left Kenneth's office. When I opened the door to the office, Mike and Ben were waiting for me.
I put my hat on the rack and sat down at my desk.
"What's up?" I asked.
Mike leaned forward. "Since Carter and Martinelli are down in Gilroy today, I had a short meeting with Ray first thing."
"You? How'd it go?"
"Lasted five minutes. He gave me his keys and his forwarding address." He leaned back and sighed. "His ex-wife's house. They're getting back together."
"Sorry about that, Mike."
"Yeah. Well, that's done."
"Did he say anything about going back to work for the City?"
"Said that he had a meeting set up with his captain today. I told him good luck and I meant it."
The Mangled Mobster (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 7) Page 18