The red-head looked up at Carter and covered her mouth in surprise. "Why, I've seen you in the papers."
Carter nodded. "If you can keep a secret, I'll take you for a spin around the block in my new Sunbeam. It's just outside and it's the same model as in the movie."
"What movie?" asked the red-head with a slight frown.
"To Catch A Thief, you dope," said Johnny.
She pulled on her sweater and said, "Thank you for that, John Muenster." Looking up at Carter, she coquettishly added, "Are you sure I wouldn't be keeping you from something important?"
Carter nodded. "We've got all the time in the world." He offered his arm, much to Johnny's chagrin. As she took it, Carter said, "We'll leave Nick behind as collateral."
I snorted and motioned everyone towards the door. They all walked outside as I made my way to the cashier up front. I handed her the two checks and, as she rung up the total, decided maybe we were on to something at Monumental, after all.
Chapter 4
The Condor's Nest
Friday, November 11, 1955
A few minutes before midnight
When we finally pulled up in front of the house, Carter turned off the lights and killed the ignition. We both stumbled out as he said, "Thank God that's over."
It had taken us nearly an hour to drive the twenty or so miles from downtown Monterey. Just south of Carmel, the fog had turned so thick, Carter had to turn off the headlights and just use the parking lights because the glare was almost blinding. There weren't very many other cars or trucks on the road, but we'd driven between ten and twenty miles per hour the rest of the way down the coast.
There was a very dim bulb over the stone front porch. I pushed the door open, suddenly realizing we'd never locked it. Carter said, "I don't know why I'm lousy at locking doors these days."
As I turned on the lights in the living room, I said, "Because we don't have to do it at home."
"I know. But still. Maybe we should run through the whole house and look for dead bodies."
I nodded. The last time Carter had left the front door to our house on Nob Hill open, we'd stumbled across a corpse on the sofa in the great room. I said, "Let's start with the kitchen and then make our way to the master bedroom."
We surveyed every room, opening every closet, and making sure no one, living or dead, was in the house. When we got to the master bedroom, I realized I felt a little odd going in. It really was my father's bedroom and, even though Carter and I slept in the bed my grandfather had built and that my parents had once slept in, it still felt intrusive to just walk in.
I pushed the door open, turned on the overhead light at the switch, and peered around. To my surprise, the master bedroom was anything but modern. There was a four-poster bed carved out of oak that had to be at least two or three hundred years old. Two wardrobes sat against the one wall. The built-in part of the closet on the opposite wall had been removed and replaced with a bureau. There were two very comfortable high-backed chairs at the end of the bed that faced the windows. A set of light orange drapes hung from the ceiling. They were the only draperies in the house. I could sense Lettie's touch in the room. Whereas the rest of the house was cold and almost Spartan, their bedroom was cozy and comfortable and warm. It even had a new Franklin stove in the far left corner.
"I like this room," said Carter with a touch of envy in his voice.
I looked over at him as he reached down and tested the spring of the mattress. "We are not, absolutely not, sleeping in this room. I don't care that it has a stove." I crossed my arms and realized how cold it was. "Although that would be nice right now."
"Is there central heating?" asked Carter.
I shrugged. "We could drag the mattress off the other bed and sleep in the living room."
Carter nodded. "That's what we'll do."
. . .
We were snuggled up under all the blankets we could find. The mattress was stretched out to the right of the fire place. Carter had built a roaring fire and the room was still chilly.
"I don't think I like this house," I said as I snuggled up closer to Carter.
"Me and you both. Maybe there's some cabins down the road we could rent. With a fireplace that actually offers heat."
I laughed. "That's a novelty. I cannot imagine what Lettie and my father were thinking when they bought this place."
"Their bedroom says it all. They want to remodel the whole joint, obviously."
Neither of us said anything for a long moment.
"Good for them," I added sleepily.
Carter pulled me close to him and began running his right hand up and down my back. "You promised me..."
"I know." I could barely keep my eyes open. I wasn't really tired.
Carter yawned. "I don't know why I'm so sleepy, all of a sudden."
I wanted to sit up but found it hard to do so. As my ear pressed against the mattress, I could hear a motor running somewhere but couldn't figure out if it was a car or something else.
Carter sat up. "Shit." He shook his head and slapped his face.
"What?" I asked, struggling to keep my eyes open.
He tried to stand up but fell back on the mattress.
"What are you, uh..." I was having a hard time figuring out what was happening.
He crawled along the floor as I watched. I thought it was funny, for some reason, so I started giggling. He made it up the stairs and then reached the door and pulled it open. "Nick. Come here." He didn't say anything for a moment. "Right now."
I could feel my eyes wanting to shut as I crawled towards the door. "What? Is this some new game?" I was about halfway across the living room floor when I decided it would be better to just put my head down. Just for a moment.
Before I knew what was happening, I could feel someone lift me by the shoulders and pull me along the floor. I tried to open my eyes, but they stayed shut. I felt the cold air from outside as it hit me in the face. The cold stone of the entry way felt very uncomfortable. I just wanted to get back to the living room and the mattress.
Someone hit me in the face. "Nick!"
I opened my eyes and saw a very handsome man bending over me, looking worried. His face was only partially illuminated by the fire in the living room. Otherwise it was dark. Everywhere was dark.
A voice said, "Take a deep breath."
I did what the voice said. The air was cold.
"Take another breath, Nick. Take a deep one."
I did what the voice said. Suddenly, I started coughing. I opened my eyes and realized it was Carter who was bending over me. He and I were out on the stone porch in front of the house. We were both in our BVDs and it was very cold.
"What happened?" I asked as I tried to stand up.
He gently pushed me back down. "Wait here and take more deep breaths. I'll be right back." He stood and made his way back into the house.
As I lay on the stone porch, I realized the electricity was out. The dim bulb directly above me was out. The only light was coming from the fireplace. I also noticed a distant engine running. I could feel it through the stone more than I could hear it.
I took several deep breaths and coughed a couple of times. It felt like there was something lodged in my lungs that I couldn't get out. I coughed a couple of more times and tried to relax.
I heard a click and then the vibration in the stone stopped. I sat up and tried to stand. As I did, I felt a little woozy but it felt good to get off the cold stone.
Carter suddenly appeared and said, "Let's go grab our valises. We can drive back into Carmel and stay at the Hide-A-Way."
I nodded and followed him back inside the house.
Chapter 5
Hide-A-Way Motel
Highway 1
Carmel-by-the-Sea, Cal.
Saturday, November 12, 1955
A few minutes before 2 in the morning
"Sorry to get you up." That was Carter.
We were standing outside the entrance to the motel office. The vacancy
light had been glowing in the foggy night, so we'd parked the Sunbeam, jumped out, and rang the night bell.
A woman, all bundled up in a thick wool gown with her hair covered by a scarf, was looking at us through the door as she unlocked it. "Come on in outta that fog."
We did as she said and waited while she turned on a couple of lights and made her way back behind the desk.
She pushed the registration book towards Carter and said, "Only got the one room and it's two single beds. You look mighty big for one of them. That be OK?"
Carter nodded as he signed his name. "That's just fine. We'll only be here the one night."
"Where you fellas headed?"
"Well, we're staying at his folks' house about twelve miles south but the electricity is out and the heater isn't working and it was too cold to stay there. So we decided to drive up here. We'll head back down in the morning, once it's daylight." He wasn't exactly telling the truth. The power had gone out after we'd turned off all the lights. That was why we hadn't noticed it. A generator in a small room off the kitchen had started up automatically. When it did, it began to fill the house with carbon monoxide. Carter figured the vent was blocked. That's what had knocked us both out. Or that's what we thought.
She looked up at Carter and tilted her head. "Have you stayed here before?"
He nodded. "Summer of 1954."
She looked thoughtful. "Aren't you connected, somehow, to that nice couple, Dr. and Mrs. Williams from up in San Francisco?"
Carter looked at me. "Nick is their son. I'm Carter Jones."
She smiled. "And I'm Mrs. O'Keefe. I thought it was something like that." She thought for a moment and then frowned. "Don't tell me you've been stayin' at their house, that Condor's Nest?"
We both nodded.
She waved her hand at us. "That place is just awful. All them windows. There ain't no heater in there. They ain't got no heating." Looking at me, she said, "No offense, Mr. Williams, but I told your father that place was a white elephant when he bought it. Half the time they come down to stay there, they end up here. Not that I mind. I'm happy to have their business." She looked up at Carter with a frown. "What didn't you tell me?"
Carter stepped back half a step in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"You're both bright red in the lips and ruddy in the cheeks. Have you been running? What happened?"
Carter didn't immediately answer, so I said, "I think we got some carbon monoxide poisoning."
She slapped the counter with her hand and then pointed out the door. "I've told Roberta Hughes not to hire those kids to do the kinda work a professional should do. What was it? A generator? You both coulda been killed."
"What kids?" I asked.
"Pair o' hoodlums, if you ask me. Bobby Reynolds and Carl Mackey."
I nodded, trying to keep from smiling. They didn't seem like hoodlums to me.
. . .
Later that morning, I woke up with a big headache. I hadn't had one since I couldn't remember when. Even Carter was sluggish.
After asking for a handful of aspirin from Mrs. O'Keefe, we loaded up the Sunbeam and drove to a nearby diner for a mid-morning breakfast.
Once we were seated in a booth in the back, I said to the waitress, "Two coffees and two waters."
She nodded wordlessly and walked over to the counter.
Whispering, I said, "I'm sorry we didn't—"
"Get to home base?" Carter's green eyes were sparkling.
I nodded.
"And then go out again for another pitch?" added Carter.
I laughed as the waitress returned with our drinks. "What'll it be, fellas?"
Carter said, "I'll have a full stack flapjacks, three eggs over easy, and two sides chewy bacon, please."
She looked down at him and grinned. "Hungry?"
He nodded. "Sure am."
She winked at him and looked at me. "How about you, hon?"
I wasn't really that hungry, so I asked, "What's good here?"
She said, "We make our own corned beef like in New York City." From the way she said that, I figured she'd never been to the place. "You might try the corned beef hash. All the Jews that come into the place say it's like being at home."
"Sounds good."
"You want some eggs with that? This one Jew, his name is Bernie, he gets two eggs poached. He says that's how it's done where he's from."
I nodded. "That's fine."
"How about toast? We got rye. That's Jewish."
I smiled. "Fine."
She smiled, put her pencil in her apron, and then looked at me. "Say, do I know you?"
I shook my head. "Don't think so. We've never been in this place before."
She nodded and said, "Yeah, but I seen your picture somewhere." With a grin, she added, "Hope it wasn't at the post office."
I grinned. "No. Not yet, at least."
She laughed at that and walked over to the counter.
Carter grinned at me. "Seems like we're gonna have to leave the country, son."
I nodded and had a sinking feeling when he said that.
. . .
I pushed my plate back and sighed. I was a convert to corned beef hash. It was just about the tastiest thing I'd had in a long time. It might have been the fact that I'd felt hungover from the carbon monoxide or the combination of aspirin, coffee, and the grease in the corned beef. Whatever it was, I was feeling fine.
Carter took his last bite of flapjacks and sighed, as well. "Those were damn good."
I grinned. "What should we do with this good weather?"
"I say we go chase down Henry Miller. I hope you brought your checkbook because I plan on picking up some of his paintings."
I nodded. "And I brought both of his books for him to sign."
Right then, the waitress was back. She didn't look happy. Slapping the check on the table, she hissed, "There's your bill for breakfast. Get the hell outta my diner and don't ever come back, you filthy perverts." She didn't speak loud enough for anyone else to here, but her behavior drew some stares from the other patrons.
Both of us stood as she watched, arms crossed. I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and placed it over the check. We walked out the front door without saying anything.
As we slid into the Sunbeam, I muttered, "Maybe we do need to leave the country."
The car roared to life. Carter shifted into reverse. As he did, he put his arm on my headrest so he could watch for oncoming traffic.
I looked up and could see the waitress glaring at us from just inside the diner's glass door. Carter must have seen her, too. Instead of backing into the street, he put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me in for a brief, but very satisfying, kiss. Out of my right eye, I could see her face turn red with anger. I didn't really give a fuck.
. . .
We pulled up to the front door of the house. As we slid out of the car, I noticed that it was swinging open. "You locked the door when we left this morning. I saw you do it."
Carter nodded and said, "Wait here."
I shook my head. "Nope. I'm right behind you."
We walked inside. As soon as we did, I noticed some odd marks on the right wall of the living room. Carter and I moved over to the fire pit and, as we did, I could see that someone had used a shovel to empty the embers all over the floor. The marks on the wall were from the ashes being smeared across the white paint.
Looking down, I could see that the mattress had been slashed and the cotton stuffing inside was pulled out and scattered around. The sheets and the pillows had been stomped on by a pair of muddy boots. Looking down at the carpet, I could see the tracks of a pair of boots going both directions. I followed them back up the steps where they disappeared on the stone surface. I walked into the kitchen and found all the canned goods pulled out of their shelves, dishes and glasses thrown on the floor, and everything was covered in a powder of flour and sugar.
I stood where I was and looked for traces of the boots in the white dusting on the floor. Sure enough
, the boots made their way into the room at the furthest end of the house. It was a long and narrow storage space that had a door at the end that opened up to the area in front of the house at the top of the cliff. It was swinging open in the wind.
I made my way to the door, careful not to disturb the fading white powder tracks, and peered outside. The dramatic view immediately grabbed my attention. The cliff's edge was only about twenty feet beyond the door. I glanced around for a moment, quietly saying, "Damn it," as I saw the soles of a pair of boots facing me at an awkward angle. They were covered in flour and their owner was laying face down with a pair of garden shears in his back.
Not wanting to disturb any evidence, I traced my steps back into the kitchen. There was a phone on the wall, right next to the door to the storage room. I called out, "Carter!"
I heard him reply, "What?"
"Go outside and don't touch anything!"
"Why?" I could hear him walking towards the kitchen as his voice was getting closer.
"Carl Mackey was murdered. His body is outside."
"Damn, son," was his reply.
I said, "I know," as I picked up the receiver and pressed down the switch hook twice.
Chapter 6
The Condor's Nest
Monterey County, Cal.
Saturday, November 12, 1955
Mid-morning
"Operator. That you, Roberta?"
"No. This is Nick Williams."
"Hello, Mr. Williams. I heard you were around. What can I do ya for?"
"Can you call the local sheriff's office?"
The operator made a noise on her end of the line. "Everything OK?"
I sighed. I knew she would listen in, so there was no reason not to tell her. "Someone broke into the house and there's been a murder."
She gasped. "It was that Bobby Reynolds and Carl Mackey. They're nothing but hoodlums, those two."
"Can you call the sheriff's office?"
"Sure, Mr. Williams. It'll be the Carmel station. Hold on."
There were a couple of clicks. After a moment, a male voice said, "Monterey County Sheriff. Deputy Forrester speaking."
The Rotten Rancher (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 16) Page 4