The Pitiful Player (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 14)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "That number is the same. Baldwin 2602."

  "Isn't it missing a digit?"

  "No. Baldwin is B-A-L, instead of B-A."

  "Got it. What else did you find out?"

  "The system you described still works the same, from what I can tell. I called the number using direct dial and the person who answered asked me who referred me, so I used William Fraser's name. They asked me which day of the week I preferred. I told them Monday. I'm guessing that's still what they're using for marijuana. They asked for my phone number and I gave them yours. They said that they would call when there was some work available."

  "Were you able to find out anything about who is running the system?"

  "Sure. It's a legitimate answering service. Goes by the name of Enterprise Messages. They've had different names in the past but they've been in business for a long time. They're located in Hollywood on Vine." He giggled.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Hollywood and Vine. It just doesn't sound real."

  I laughed. "You got that right. Anything else?"

  "My contact found out they're always hiring. I told Mr. Robertson and he's sending Anita Wilson down there tonight on one of your planes."

  "Anita Wilson?"

  "She started about a month ago. Mr. Robertson told me to tell you that she's going to be staying at a hotel in Hollywood and that she'll phone you when she gets in and is set up."

  "Great. Good work, as always, Walter."

  "Thank you, Mr. Williams."

  "By the way, Walter, how's your love life these days?"

  There was no immediate reply.

  "Walter, you still there?"

  "Uh, yeah, Mr. Williams. I guess that's such an odd question for the workplace."

  I laughed. "Not really, not for us. So, what's the answer? Are you dating anyone?"

  "Um, no, sir. I, uh, I'm not."

  "When was your last date?"

  "In, uh, January."

  "Was he nice?"

  "Oh, yes. Very nice. We went together for a couple of months." Walter's voice turned a little bitter. "At least he waited until after Christmas to tell me it was over."

  "Sorry to hear that, Walter. Look, the reason—"

  "Oh, I know the reason, Mr. Williams. That's why I was so flustered earlier."

  I laughed. "I can't put anything over you, can I?"

  He giggled. "I guess not."

  "Well, there's a kid here that we've met. He's getting his Ph.D. in Mathematics at U.C.L.A. Sound interesting?"

  Walter could barely hide his disappointment. "Uh, sure."

  "What if I tell you that he's about 5'8" and drives a motorcycle to and from campus and mostly wears white t-shirts, dungarees, and motorcycle boots?"

  "Really?" Walter sounded hopeful.

  "Sure. When I described you to him, he got excited."

  "Really?"

  "It's all true. He's also as much of a brainiac as you. He works on some computer they have."

  Walter sighed audibly. "Mr. Williams, I hope you're not playing some sort of practical joke on me."

  "Walter! I never joke about love. So, what's say you come down here this weekend?"

  "This weekend? So soon!"

  "Have you read that new book called Auntie Mame?"

  "No."

  "Well one of things she says is how most poor sons of bitches are starving to death when life is really a banquet. You gotta live, Walter."

  "Live?" He sounded doubtful.

  "Yeah. Live. You set something up with Robert and get down here on Friday. You could fly down on the DC-3 when it comes to pick up all the movie stars."

  "Oh, I don't know, Mr. Williams."

  I laughed. "Walter, as your boss, I'm ordering you down here. You have an important job to do."

  "What's that?"

  "To find out if Howie is the one."

  Walter sighed. "Howie." There was definite hope in his voice.

  . . .

  I was watching Carter get dressed. As he zipped up his trousers, he looked at me. "You look very satisfied with yourself, son. I heard you talkin' to Walter. You think Howie's the one for him?"

  I shrugged. "I dunno. Might be."

  He pulled on his shirt, pulled it down, and tucked it in. "Well, you were wrong about Micky."

  I shook my head. "No, sir. You were wrong about Micky. You just plunged in without first testing the waters."

  Carter balled his fists and put them on his hips. "Did I just hear you say I was wrong?"

  I grinned. "You sure did. If you're going to get into the matchmaking business, you need to, I say, you need to pay better attention, boy." I was trying to mimic that big cartoon rooster.

  Carter scowled in an attempt to give me his serious face, but it wasn't taking. "Now, look here, son." He started walking towards me, doing so very slowly.

  I jumped up and leaped over the bed.

  "Don't you run from me, son. You're not going to like it when I catch you."

  I stood in the door and said, "Again, all these promises. When will you deliver?"

  Carter made a dash at me as I ran down the hallway. Once I was in the living room, I turned and tried to make it to the sofa. Before I could get there, he tackled me. I fell to the floor and he managed to get me on my back. Sitting on top of me, he crossed his arms, looked down, and said, "Now tell me again how I was wrong?"

  I started laughing. He opened his arms and extended his right hand as if it were something curious. He then flexed the fingers. He looked at them as if they had a mind of their own and he was just barely able to keep them under control.

  Once it was obvious he was only threatening but wouldn't be delivering, I said, "You gotta watch the signals. You can always tell."

  Carter leaned down in my face and kissed me on the lips. "How do you even know about these things?"

  I looked in his green eyes. He grinned and they twinkled. I loved it when he did that. "Mike taught me. He must have had some idea that I'd eventually join the Navy. He taught me how to feel a guy out to find out whether he might be interested in fooling around and how much he would be interested in doing."

  Carter laid himself down on the floor next to me. He propped his head on his right hand and let his left hand explore my chest. "So tell me what you learned."

  "Well, it started with Mike, but I perfected it once I was on a ship for several months."

  "OK. So, let's say you met me. I was coming down a hallway—"

  "Passageway."

  "Yeah. If I smiled right at you, what would that mean?"

  "If it was just the two of us in the passageway, I would stop and turn around to look at you. If you were doing the same, then I'd walk up and ask you for a light. If you offered me a cigarette, then I knew you were interested in something very specific."

  Carter pulled my shirt up so he could rub my belly. "Like, for instance, what I happen to like?"

  "Yeah. And if you asked for a light from me, then we weren't going to go far unless it was just necking or maybe a little further."

  "Like third base?" He kissed my chin as he said that.

  "Something like that."

  "What if I winked at you?"

  "Then I would have stopped and asked something like, 'You drop something?' or, 'You looking for the soap?'"

  "Why that?"

  "Like dropping the soap. In the shower."

  As he ran his finger over my lips, he said, "Oh. Right." After a moment, he asked, "What if I got all confused and flustered?"

  "I'd look at my watch and say, 'Sorry, I'm late for...' And fill in the blank. Then I'd run away as fast as I could without looking like I was running."

  "Why? If I was confused, I wouldn't be dangerous."

  I laughed. "No, but you might be a freshman and I didn't have time to be letting freshmen cut their teeth on me. That was another thing that Mike taught me."

  Carter snuggled into my neck and said, "Mike was a real good teacher, wasn't he?"

  "Uh huh," was all I could
say.

  "I should send him some flowers to thank him." His voice sounded slurred.

  Suddenly, I thought I saw a flash of something or someone outside the front windows. "Carter."

  "What?"

  "We're in the living room and on the floor and all the curtains are open."

  "So what?"

  "So, Howie could walk in at any minute. Not to mention Tom."

  "Let 'em walk in." He was kissing my face and moving his hands through my freshly-pomaded hair.

  Right then, there was a banging on the back door. We both jumped up. Carter dashed back to the bedroom, leaving me to deal with whoever it was. I smoothed my hair down, tucked in my shirt, and adjusted myself. I walked into the kitchen. Tom was grinning through the window of the back door. I opened it and said, "Hi there."

  He walked in and brazenly kissed me on the cheek. "Hi there to you, too. Did you know that when the sun is setting it highlights everything in the living room as it's shining through the back door?"

  "That so?" I asked, feeling the burn of embarrassment. I closed the door and asked, "Hungry?" I turned to look at him. He was wearing very tight dark blue trousers and a short-sleeve light blue shirt with a subtle yellow diamond pattern that was stretched across his chest. It was a perfect match to his freckled and ruddy complexion.

  "Starvin'." He rubbed his hands together. "But I'm always hungry. You two always make out on the living room floor?"

  I laughed as Carter walked in. The two shook hands and Carter asked, "Could you see us from the street?"

  Tom shook his head. "Nah. I just peeked in through the windows before running around the back. You'd had to have been in the yard to see anything."

  I started to say something but the phone rang right then. "'Scuse me, Tom." I grabbed the receiver from the wall and said, "Yeah?"

  A female voice asked, "Mr. Williams?"

  "Yeah?"

  "This is Anita Wilson from San Francisco calling."

  "Hello, Anita. How are you?"

  "Oh, fine, Mr. Williams."

  "Good. Are you all settled in?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "How about meeting us for dinner, then?"

  "That would be fine."

  "Can you hold the line for a moment?"

  "Sure."

  I put my hand over the mouthpiece and asked Tom, "Where's a good diner that's in the middle of Hollywood?"

  He smiled and said, "Ontra's. It's a cafeteria, if that's OK."

  I nodded. "Perfect. Where is it?"

  "On Vine, just north of Hollywood."

  Into the phone, I said, "Anita, can you meet us at Ontra's Cafeteria at 8? It's on Vine, just north of Hollywood."

  "That's just fine, Mr. Williams. I'm only three blocks from there at the corner of Hollywood and Wilcox."

  "What's the name of the place where you're staying?"

  "The Kenwood Arms. It's a small residential hotel. Perfect location."

  "Good. We'll see you at 8, then."

  "Yes. Until then."

  I put the receiver back on the hook and said, "OK, we're all set for dinner."

  "Who was that?" asked Tom.

  "One of your colleagues from the San Francisco office. She's down to get a job with Enterprise Messages."

  "Inside job?"

  I nodded. Putting my hand on his back, I said, "We'll explain it in the car."

  Tom grinned at me. "We gonna take that Mercedes?"

  I nodded. "That OK?"

  "Boy, is it ever. Always wanted to ride in one of those. I don't care who's working in the factory back in Germany."

  We all laughed as we filed out the back door.

  Chapter 24

  Ontra Cafeteria

  1719 North Vine Street

  Hollywood, Cal.

  Wednesday, July 13, 1955

  A quarter past 8 in the evening

  Once we were all settled at a table in the back, we dug in. I was having a piece of broiled haddock. Carter was enjoying some roast beef. Tom had helped himself to two servings of chicken pot pie. Anita was sipping from a big bowl of tomato soup with an egg salad sandwich waiting for her. The place was huge and our table was pretty isolated even though it looked like a busy night.

  For a cafeteria, it was an attractive joint. White tablecloths and flowers were part of the place settings. The only thing I didn't like was how crowded in all the tables were. I figured they did a huge trade at lunch and might need all the tables and chairs they had packed into the place.

  I looked across the table at Anita and asked, "When did you start working for us?"

  "At the beginning of May, Mr. Williams. I'm friends with your old neighbor, Diane." Diane and Pam were what Carter called a "lady couple." They lived next door to us on Hartford Street when we had lived in Eureka Valley in the City. Diane taught school at the local elementary while Pam ran her own construction company.

  Anita continued, "Diane suggested I try to get a job as a secretary but, after talking with Mr. Robertson, he convinced me to try for my P.I. license." She smiled. "And I'm glad he did."

  Carter asked, "What kind of cases have you worked on?"

  "Oh, things like this. Going under cover as a secretary or a stenographer in order to find out what's going on inside a firm. Things like that."

  I nodded. I liked that she was keeping the details vague.

  She looked at Tom. "I've never seen you at the office. Did you just start, too?"

  He grinned and wiped his mouth. "Today is my first day. And I live down here, so I'm in the Los Angeles office, I guess." Looking at me, Tom asked, "Do we have an office here?"

  I nodded. "I've never seen it and I've been told it isn't much to see, but yeah, we do."

  Anita sighed contentedly. "Gee. It's all so exciting. When I flew down tonight, I was the only one on the plane. Except for the pilots and the stewardess, of course."

  "Which one were you on?" asked Carter.

  "Oh, I don't know what kind it was. There was a cartoon of a lumberjack on the nose, though." She giggled. "I thought that was funny."

  I looked at Carter and said, "He's the one who came up with the idea. We've named a couple of the planes and that one's called The Laconic Lumberjack. It's a Lockheed Super Constellation. We bought it from Howard Hughes."

  "That so?" asked Tom. He didn't seem terribly impressed.

  I nodded. "We rented it from him for a case. He didn't like that we got our homosexual cooties all over it and tried to sue us. I just bought the plane instead."

  Tom laughed. "I've heard he's nuts."

  I shrugged.

  Anita sighed. "Laconic. I just love that word."

  "What does it mean?" asked Tom as he started in on his second pot pie.

  "Someone who doesn't talk much," replied Anita.

  I said, "It's named after a guy we met on a case in Georgia. Carter and I both worked as lumberjacks for a couple of weeks. Red, that's our friend who looks like that cartoon, he was a big help on the case."

  "And he's a hell of a nice guy," added Carter.

  Anita smiled.

  "Do you mind that kind of language?" asked Carter.

  She shook her head. "I don't use it, as a rule, but Mr. Robertson said the guys could be salty and that I should expect to hear that and a lot worse."

  I nodded. "Marnie can be a little salty, too, when the mood strikes her."

  Anita blushed a little at the mention of Marnie.

  Tom said, "Oh, does someone have a crush, I wonder?"

  Anita giggled. "Not really." She looked at me. "I know she's married and, gee, Mr. Williams, she's practically your sister and everything. I hope I'm not being rude."

  I laughed. "Not at all. Are you going with anyone?"

  Anita shook her head. "Not right now. I'm kinda off dating at the moment."

  "How so?" I asked.

  "Well," she said as she looked down at her soup, "I had a bad break-up back in April. It's why I was looking for a job. You see, I was practically married to my boss. I
was her secretary." She put her hand to her mouth for a moment as if she'd just spilled the beans. "And I don't want to name names because she's a well-known person in San Francisco who has a husband, although they don't even live in the same house anymore."

  Carter said, "But it looks like you've landed on your feet."

  Anita nodded. "Oh, yes, I have, Mr. Jones. Thank you for the job."

  Carter smiled. "Don't thank me, thank Mike. If he hired you, you're the goods and no mistake."

  "He's so smart. I really look up to him." She giggled. "In more ways than one."

  Tom looked at me and then at Carter. "Who's this Mike guy?"

  "Mike Robertson. He's your boss."

  Tom frowned at me. "I thought you was my boss."

  Carter said, "Nick's bossy but he ain't your boss."

  I rolled my eyes and said, "What Carter means is that Mike is the President of the company and he manages everything. Carter and I are the owners. And Carter manages a small team of arson investigators."

  Tom nodded and then grinned at me. "What's the scoop with this Mike, though?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Seems like you have some history with him. Did you used to date him or somethin' like that?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. He took me in back in '39 when my father kicked me out of the house. I lived with him until right after Pearl Harbor, when I enlisted in the Navy. He's my best friend, you could say."

  "And a great guy," added Carter.

  Tom looked at Carter. "You ain't jealous?"

  "No. They love each other but neither of them is in love with the other. That's pretty obvious. Besides, Mike knows what would happen to him if..." Carter shrugged and took a bite of his roast beef. "You know," he added.

  Tom nodded. "I can imagine. He tall and filled out like you?"

  "He's got an inch on me but he doesn't do any sort of training. He's got that natural thickness. Like you."

  Tom nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "I am lucky, that's for sure. I just wish I was as tall as you."

  Anita asked, "Why's that?"

  "I dunno. I just like the idea of being the biggest guy in the room."

  I looked up at Carter. He winked at me. I smiled in reply.

  . . .

  After we were finished eating and the gal had cleared our plates and brought us fresh coffee, Tom pulled out a package of Pall Malls and offered it to the table. "Anyone?" We all declined.