"If anyone asks if you have the key, you can tell them honestly that you don't have it."
Ben thought for a moment and then stood and walked into their bedroom.
Carter, who had been listening and drinking his coffee, quietly asked me, "What would Mike say about you doing that?"
I looked at him and asked, "The Mike from 1954 or this year's model?"
Carter nodded slowly. "Good point. The Mike of today wouldn't bat an eye at it." He sipped his coffee. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
"It means he's thinking more like a private dick and less like a cop and that's a good thing, in my book."
Ben walked back into the living room and handed me a single key. I stuck it in my trouser pocket. He sat down again and looked from Carter to me and back. "Are you two going to meet the lawyer dressed like that?"
We were once again wearing our casual clothes and they were the last of what we'd brought with us. I nodded. "Afraid so. We packed for Ensenada."
Carter grinned. "Some lucky haberdasher is gonna get a visit from us around 10. That would be my guess."
Ben nodded but didn't smile. "I'm so glad you guys are here. I really don't know what we'd do."
I shook my head. "Don't think twice about it." I looked down at the floor for a moment to gather my thoughts. "OK. So, you both walked into his apartment and found no clue as to where he might be. Then what did you do?"
"We came back here and watched TV until midnight. We checked on his apartment again. And then we decided to check some places we knew he'd been to before."
"Where'd you go?"
"First we went to a dive bar near Chinatown that he liked. No one had seen him there. Then we tried a place Carlo knew about out in Silver Lake. They hadn't seen him. We finally found him down at the beach in Venice. That was always his favorite place to go when he was strung out."
"Strung out?" asked Carter.
"You know. After he'd had a few marijuana cigarettes."
"Are you sure that's all it was? Maybe he was doing more than just Mary Jane." I asked.
Ben shrugged. "How should I know?" He shook his head. "If I'd known he was going to be that much trouble..." He stopped and turned pale. "I'm sorry. I know he's dead. But, Nick, once he had some money, all he did was buy marijuana with it."
"What did you do after you found him at the beach?"
"We brought him back here and put him to bed in his apartment."
"What time was that?"
"About 5 or so."
I nodded. "Then what?"
"Then we went to bed. We got up around 9, ate some breakfast, and then went over to Paramount to meet Jessup. Oh, and we tried to call you, but no one at your house knew where you were."
I nodded. "What did you do after you dropped us off at the hotel after lunch yesterday?"
"We came back here. I got on the phone and called everyone in the cast and crew to let them know we were laying off for three days."
"Three days?" I asked.
"Yes. I figured we might be able to start filming something new. I've already got a couple of ideas."
I nodded. Once again, I was impressed with how he was thinking.
Ben continued, "After I was done, we took a nap until it was time to get dressed and pick you up."
"And Martinelli was with you the whole time?"
Ben nodded.
I asked, "He didn't go out to run an errand or go to the store?"
Ben shook his head.
"Did you have any contact with William after you put him to bed?"
"No. We knocked on his door on our way to Paramount but he didn't answer."
I thought for a moment. "So you don't know if he was there or not?"
"No."
"Do you have any idea why the deputies arrested Martinelli?"
"None. The only thing I can think of is that maybe his fingerprints were on whatever William was stabbed with but I don't know how that's possible."
I looked at Carter. "Were you fingerprinted at work?"
"Yes. But that was during the war, before Carlo became a fireman."
"Maybe they started taking fingerprints for all new hires at some point."
Carter looked thoughtful. "Maybe."
. . .
Once we were ready to head out for breakfast, I asked Ben, "Where is Greg staying? I kinda thought he'd be here in your other bedroom."
He shook his head. "No. He's staying with Micky downstairs."
I nodded. "Let's stop by there and let them know what's happened before we leave."
Ben put on his hat and looked at us again. "You sure you don't want to go through Carlo's coats and see if one will fit?"
I looked at Carter who shook his head. He said, "No. It'll look worse if we're wearing a coat as if the maitre d' gave us each one at the door."
Ben laughed for the first time, which was good to hear, and opened the front door. We walked out into the hallway and waited as he closed and locked the door. We followed him down the long hall and then down the stairs to the ground floor. We then proceeded to apartment 5-A. Ben knocked on the door. There was no reply at first, so he knocked a little harder. "Micky?"
I could hear some sort of scuffle inside and muttering voices. Finally, a voice replied, "Who is it?"
"It's Ben."
I heard the door unlock and then watched as it opened. Micky stood there in just his pajama bottoms. He stood about 6'2", was thickly built, and had blond hair and green eyes. He'd obviously been asleep as his thinning hair was standing all over the place. "What's up?"
Ben said, "Can we come in?"
Micky suddenly seemed to realize that Carter and I were standing there. A look of panic crossed his face briefly. He then grinned in a self-assured way and nodded. "Come on in, fellas."
He stepped back. The apartment smelled oddly musky, as if it needed a good cleaning. The odor reminded me of a gymnasium full of men who were smoking. I glanced up at Carter, who had a sensitive nose. He was openly frowning. Micky closed the door behind us and said, "Sorry about the mess."
His apartment was small and cluttered. There was a Murphy bed that had been pulled down from the wall. Clothes were tossed all over the other pieces of furniture. Two big ashtrays were full of cigarette butts. A small kitchen at the far end of the room had a pile of dishes in the sink. It was next to a patio door which was open to an outdoor courtyard but was offering nothing in the way of fresh air.
On the near side of the Murphy bed, Greg Holland was sitting on the edge, smoking a cigarette, and blinking sleepily at us. He was also wearing just his pajama bottoms. He waved his right hand and said, "Good morning."
I nodded and said, "Morning."
Ben, who seemed to be surprised by everything he was seeing, looked from Greg to Micky and then to me.
I held my stone face, not sure what to think.
After two beats, Ben said, "Carlo was arrested this morning for William's murder."
Both Micky and Greg said, "What?"
I picked up the story and gave them the brief version. Once I was done, I asked, "Didn't you hear the deputies when they came through this morning?"
Greg blushed. "We were out at a dive bar that Micky knows in Hollywood. We didn't get back until almost 4." He tried to stifle a yawn.
I nodded and, hoping I didn't sound like my father, said, "I'll call Mike after we have breakfast."
Greg nodded. "Thanks. We don't need to be out until noon and I plan on going back to bed."
Micky asked, "Is he being arraigned this morning?"
I nodded.
"Have a lawyer?"
"Yeah. Guy by the name of John Gilbraith."
Micky nodded. "Good. He's a killer. The D.A. hates him. And he's one of us." He looked at Carter and said, "And he's a good head taller than you. And he's a pill."
"What does that mean?" asked Ben.
Micky laughed. "I don't wanna spoil the surprise. But Carlo's in good hands."
I said, "Let's get
this show on the road." The apartment was hot, it stank, and I wanted away from all my suspicions as fast as possible.
Ben walked over to the door. Carter and I followed. Once we were outside and on our way to where Ben had parked his big Chrysler, I took a deep breath of fresh air and said, "They were too innocent to have done anything."
Ben snorted. "Or they're both really good at covering their tracks. They're both cops. Or they were."
Carter laughed. "You were a cop, Ben."
He shook his head. "I was never that good."
He had a point.
Chapter 9
Hall of Justice
211 West Temple Street
Monday, July 11, 1955
Just past 8 in the morning
We found Gilbraith standing just inside the main doors of the Hall of Justice. Kenneth had been right. I immediately recognized him. He had a pointy brown Van Dyke sitting at the end of his long chin. He was about the tallest man I'd ever seen. His beard only accentuated his height. He had dark brown eyes, wore thick black glasses, and was dressed in an impeccable brown tweed suit, complete with a vest and a watch fob. He looked like something out of the Gay Nineties. I looked to see if he had a bowler, but he was hatless. He was almost a head taller than Carter and couldn't have weighed much more than me, he was so lanky. He was carrying a very thick satchel in his left hand. As soon as he saw us, he walked up and offered his right hand. It was long and thin.
I shook and said, "Mr. Gilbraith?"
He nodded. In a surprisingly deep voice, he replied, "Yes. Mr. Williams?"
I nodded.
Without saying anything, he pushed the door open and held it for us. We walked back outside. He said, "Let's go grab some coffee real quick."
I said, "Lead the way."
. . .
Joe's Diner was across the street. Waving at a man behind a cash register station, Gilbraith led us toward the back. Several people seemed to recognize him. Most of their looks were mildly hostile. No one was friendly. The few who seemed to recognize me gave me the same expression. Gilbraith stopped at the last booth and let Ben in so he could sit on the outside. I guessed he wanted space to stretch his legs.
Once we were seated, the man from the front stopped by with a coffee pot. "Good morning Mr. Gilbraith. Coffee?" We all nodded and turned over our cups. He filled them up. "Any breakfast this morning?"
Gilbraith said, "Three eggs scrambled, two ham steaks, and wheat toast, hold the butter." Looking around the table, he asked, "Anyone else?"
We'd had breakfast already so we all shook our heads.
The man nodded. "Minimum charge in the morning is four bits. That OK?"
I smiled and said, "That's fine. Thanks."
Once he walked away, Ben hissed, "He wants a lousy fifty cents so we can sit here?"
Gilbraith took a sip of his coffee. "It's a busy place and he's had trouble with freeloaders, particularly attorneys. It was my suggestion, as a matter of fact."
Ben rolled his eyes, something Gilbraith couldn't see since they were sitting next to each other. The lawyer said, "Before we start, I have to know. Is my client guilty?"
Ben opened his mouth to speak and I cut him off. "No. He has an alibi."
Gilbraith nodded coolly. "Fine. How do you know when his alibi is for?"
"We don't. But he was in Ben's company from the last time they saw William alive until the sheriff's deputies came to arrest Martinelli."
Gilbraith looked right at me. "So, you're telling me that the dago wop's alibi is guaranteed by his fag boyfriend. That right?"
I shook my head slightly at Ben's outrage. "That's about the sum of it, Counselor."
"I'm not trying to be rude. Between Chief Anderson and his limelight addiction and District Attorney Alexander Frankfurter and his war on faggots in this town, this is how this whole thing is going to go down." Without waiting for any reply, he quickly looked at his watch and said, "I need you to tell me everything you know. We have fifteen minutes. Go."
I recited what Ben had told me, point by point. By the time I was done, Gilbraith had finished wolfing down his breakfast. He pushed his plate back, wiped his mouth, and then stroked his beard for a moment without saying anything. He then abruptly unfolded himself out of the booth. Looking down at me, he said, "You three stay here. I'm going to meet with Mr. Martinelli. Be at the arraignment courtroom across the street at 9 sharp." Without waiting for our reply, he grabbed his satchel and stalked off.
"What an ass," said Ben as soon as the man was gone.
Carter said, "Yes. And my money is on him."
I nodded and stood. "I need to call the office. Be right back."
. . .
"Nick?" That was Mike.
"Yeah. Carlo Martinelli was arrested this morning for William's murder."
"You're kidding."
"Not a bit. Kenneth found a local lawyer. We just met with him. He's talking to Martinelli right now and the arraignment is at 9."
"Did anyone let Micky know?"
"Yeah. We talked to him on our way to breakfast. And we told Greg, too, since he was staying with Micky."
There was a cool silence at the other end of the line.
"Mike?"
He coughed. "I'm here. So, you told Micky and Greg?"
"Yeah." I waited to see if there was anything else he wanted to ask me.
"You there, Nick?"
"Yeah."
"Anything else?"
"No." I left the word open to interpretation.
Mike sighed. "What were they doing?"
"Nothing to tell, from what I could see, other than sharing a Murphy bed. Micky's place is a pigsty."
Mike laughed. "Yeah. I've seen it."
"I don't think you have anything to worry about."
Mike didn't say anything.
"You still there?"
"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Um, are you two staying down there for the duration?"
I looked across the room at Carter. We hadn't talked about it but his comment about needing to buy clothes made it clear what he was thinking. "For a couple of days, at least. We still need to meet with Jessup."
"Who's that?"
"Ben's director. Remember?"
"Oh, right. Sorry. What about Robert? Do you need to talk to him?" Mike sounded more distracted than I could ever remember hearing.
"Yeah, but Mike—"
"Not now, Nick. I'll call down there. Once I hear his voice, I'll know."
"He loves you." I'd been there when Greg had first admitted he was in love with Mike. It was the real deal. It was hard for me to imagine that he would throw all of that away.
"And I love him."
"I know."
"OK. Hold on. Lemme get Robert for you."
I heard a click as he put the line on hold. While I waited, I decided that I couldn't worry about Greg and Mike. They would take care of things on their own. And I was sure it would work out. Or, mostly sure.
I heard a click and a voice said, "Nick?" That was Robert Evans, my whiz of a property manager. He managed my buildings and my growing fleet of airplanes. And he was in love with and living with Henry Winters, Carter's first romance and a good friend to us both.
"Robert, how are you?"
"Good. Mike told me Carlo Martinelli has been arrested."
"Yeah. We're gonna be here for a few days, at least, so don't have any planes waiting for us. When we're done, we'll drive home or catch a P.S.A. flight."
"Sounds good."
"Anything I need to know?"
"Nothing big. I did get a call on Friday from someone trying to offload a de Havilland Comet."
"That jet that keeps crashing?"
"That's the one. I told the guy we liked to keep our planes in the air, thank you very much. Besides, I don't think that the C.A.B. is letting any of them fly in the U.S."
"How much did he want?"
"Peanuts. Two hundred grand."
"Hmm."
"What?"
"
Aren't they working on fixing the problem?"
"Yes."
"Look. Why don't you check with your pilots and get their feel for it? I'd like to have one, to tell the truth."
"It's in Ireland right now."
"That's fine. We can keep it there until they have it fixed."
"I don't know, Nick."
"Just check with the pilots and see what they think. This might be our ticket to getting a jet before anyone else."
Robert laughed. "That doesn't sound like you."
"You weren't around when I bought my first apartment building."
"What do you mean?"
"I bought the building because I liked how it looked."
"I thought you bought it because you needed a place to live."
"Well, that was part of it. But I was looking at two buildings. The one I didn't buy was condemned a couple of years later. And it was more expensive."
"I don't follow."
I grinned to myself. "I like the name 'Comet'."
Robert laughed. "Oh, right. I'll look into it."
Chapter 10
Hall of Justice
Arraignment Court
211 West Temple Street
Monday, July 11, 1955
Just before 9 in the morning
Ben, Carter, and I slipped into the courtroom and took seats all the way in the back. I wasn't surprised to see a row of reporters on the right. We'd passed a couple of men with cameras on our way in.
Ben whispered, "How long will this take?"
Carter whispered back, "Going somewhere?"
Shaking his head with a flushed face, Ben replied, "No. I want to go see Carlo in lockup if I can."
I leaned in. "Once he's arraigned, we can talk to Gilbraith and see if that's possible. It might not be."
Carter added, "When Nick was in lockup in Georgia, they wouldn't let me see him."
Ben sat back, looking miserable. I couldn't blame him. I said, "Don't worry, Ben. We'll do what we can."
He nodded and crossed his arms. I wondered if he was going to cry. His eyes were red enough.
Just then, the bailiff announced. "All rise. The Honorable Robert Ledbetter presiding."
A red-headed man in black robes swept up onto the bench. He said, "Be seated," as he sat down. The bailiff handed him a clipboard. He looked at it, looked around, and said, "State versus Martinelli."
The Pitiful Player (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 14) Page 7