The Pitiful Player (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 14)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I waved him on. "We'll pack it up."

  Benjamin looked at Kenneth with a frown.

  Kenneth shook his head. "I don't care."

  Benjamin shrugged. "Fine."

  With that, they were gone.

  I took my hand off the mouthpiece and put the receiver up to my ear. "Ben? You still there?"

  "Yes. I feel much better now."

  "Good. And I'm glad you called and didn't just sit there and stew. Look, Kenneth and Benjamin are on their way to see Martinelli."

  "Kenneth Dixon and Benjamin Ross? Why are they here? What about Gilbraith?"

  I sighed. "Maybe it wasn't in the papers, but we found Gilbraith at home last night. He was dead."

  "Really?" Ben didn't sound very sad. I couldn't blame him. Gilbraith was impressive but not exactly lovable.

  "Yeah. We don't know if it was murder or natural causes. Kenneth and Benjamin flew down last night. And they just left to go see Martinelli."

  Ben sighed. "Oh, I feel so much better."

  "How're things there?"

  "Oh, fine. We've got the first film plotted out. Everyone's on board. We might have the whole thing in the can in a couple of weeks. Jessup's already talking to distributors."

  "Good. Don't forget. You're the producer. He's the director."

  "Right. Gotta go, Nick. Thanks for everything."

  "Bye, kid." I put the receiver back on the hook and shook my head. I took a deep breath. "Should I take it off the hook?"

  Carter started to reply when Roz walked up the back steps and into the kitchen. "Hello, everyone." She was wearing a simple light blue house dress. Her hair was pulled back off her head. She was carrying a couple of cardboard cartons. She looked around and said, "I'm here to clean you out."

  I turned to introduce Tom. His face was flush and his mouth was gaping open. "Rosalind Russell meet Tom Ruggles. I think he might be a fan."

  She put down the cartons on the counter and gracefully walked over to Tom. Extending her hand, she said, "How do you do, Mr. Ruggles? What a pleasure."

  Tom nodded and shook her hand. I said, "I think he wants you to know how happy he is to finally meet you."

  Carter and Roz laughed at that.

  She looked at Carter. "Friend of yours from one of those gymnasiums up in San Francisco?"

  Carter shook his head. "Tom's a native Angeleno. He works for us."

  Roz laughed. "Then he's one of the rarest of birds, the Angeleno who's starstruck." She put her hands on her hips and turned to look at me. "It's like seeing a unicorn or watching a rhinoceros crossing Santa Monica Boulevard."

  Tom finally laughed and said, "I'm sorry, Miss Russell. I'm a tremendous fan of yours. I can quote every line from The Women and His Girl Friday."

  "Can you, my dear?" She smiled at him and said, "I ought to go to you for plots."

  I thought he was going to faint. Instead, he replied, "You ought to go to someone."

  "Very good, Mr. Ruggles." Having done her movie-star duty, Roz walked into the kitchen. "Well, what do we have here?"

  I shrugged. "Plenty. Help yourself to whatever you want."

  As she started emptying the contents of the icebox into one of the cartons, Roz asked, "Have you called Billy, yet?"

  Carter replied, "The phone has been ringing off the hook."

  I said, "Can you call Marnie and ask her to take care of that?"

  Carter nodded and walked over to the phone.

  I pointed to Tom. "Meanwhile, let's you and me go pack up everything. Roz? Do you mind if we leave you to it?"

  "Go ahead, boys. I'll be fine. I'll come find you when I'm done."

  "Thanks."

  "No, Mr. Williams, thank you. There's a huge piece of pork shoulder in here. Freddie loves roast pork."

  I laughed as Tom and I headed towards the bedrooms. "Let's take care of Kenneth and Benjamin's stuff first."

  As we walked into the back bedroom, I picked up the suitcase that was sitting on the floor by the bedroom door, put it on the bed, and opened it up. As I did, Tom started laughing. He was standing next to me. Reaching in, he picked up a pair of handcuffs and said, "Well, what do we have a here?"

  I laughed and picked up a ball gag. "Toys for the boys," was the only clever thing I could think of to say.

  Tom looked through the handful of objects that were just loosely gathered at the bottom of the suitcase and said, "There's a whole lotta things in here that are illegal. Fun, but illegal."

  I said, "Well then, I guess we better not tell the fuzz about them, right?"

  Tom sighed as he walked over to the far side of the bed and began to scoop up discarded dirty clothes. "Right."

  . . .

  I knocked on Howie's door. It was quiet inside the apartment. I knew he was around because we hadn't heard his motorcycle since the police chief had left. I knocked again and waited.

  After about thirty seconds, I tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so I opened the door a few inches and called out, "Howie?"

  Getting no reply, I pushed the door open. I walked in and surveyed the place.

  I was standing in the living room. There was a hi-fi at the end of the room with cartons of records nearby. And that was it. No furniture, not even a wooden crate set on its side.

  I walked across the wooden floor, hearing my footsteps echo in the room. I looked into the kitchen that was off to the side of the living room. To the left of the small icebox, there was a sink and a small counter. A table and two chairs stood in the middle of the small room. The counter and the sink were clean. There was a percolator sitting on a small gas stove on the other side of the counter. On the table stood a stack of textbooks and a couple of notebooks. A pencil sharpener was mounted on the wall. Below it was a garbage pail that was freshly lined with a paper bag. I looked at one of the textbooks. An Introduction to the Theory of Numbers was the title on the spine. There were several bookmarks in the pages and, when I carefully opened it, I found lots of notations in pencil. I wondered if Howie was teaching a class, because the notes looked like the kind that an instructor would make. I tried to read the page I had opened to but I put it down, not wanting to hurt my brain by trying to understand what I was attempting to read.

  I walked back into the living room and around to the bedroom. The door was open about six inches.

  "Howie?" I called out again. I thought I heard a sound but I wasn't sure. I cautiously pushed the door open. I saw Howie sprawled across the small bed, lightly snoring. He was still in his swim trunks and the smell of the swimming pool water hung in the air. I looked at him for a moment, thinking about how smart he was, both in terms of how he knew how to read people and also in terms of his education. A mild rush of affection washed over me. I felt like a proud papa looking at a teenage son. And then I laughed at myself. He wasn't that much younger than me. But he did have that effect.

  I wondered if I should wake him up. He was face down but his back looked content. I grinned at that thought. Finally, I remembered why I was there. "Howie!"

  He snorted and moved. I thought he was waking up but he started snoring again. I reached out and pushed on the back of his upper thigh. "Howie, wake up."

  He didn't move. He was dead to the world. I looked around the room. There was a pile of things on the rug next to the bed. Next to an empty glass and in front of a wind-up alarm clock, I saw a pill bottle. I picked it up. There was no label but there was a rainbow of different pills inside, about thirty or forty of them. I put the bottle back on the floor and squatted next to the bed.

  I had a feeling he was in a drug-induced sleep. I whacked him hard on the ass, which was mildly satisfying, but had little effect on him. He shifted a bit. I tried tickling him under his ribs. He seemed to be trying to wake up but he didn't or he couldn't. Feeling a rising panic, I scooped up the bottle and ran through the apartment, down the stairs, across the yard, and into the kitchen.

  Roz and Tom were standing at the counter, both laughing at something, while Carter was nowhere to be se
en. Without saying anything, I handed the bottle to Tom.

  He immediately stopped laughing and dumped the contents into the palm of his hand.

  "Whatever are all of those?" asked Roz.

  "I found them next to Howie's bed. He's out and I couldn't wake him up."

  Tom nodded and picked up one of the pink capsules. "Probably this. He's got a whole range of uppers and downers." He pointed to a black one. "That'll wake you up and keep you up." He pointed to a purple one. "That one makes you go to sleep for a whole night without ever waking up. Not good if you vomit."

  Roz turned her head away.

  "Sorry, Miss Russell."

  She waved at him. "No, Tom. That's quite alright." Looking at me, she asked, "Do we take him to the hospital?"

  I looked at Tom. He put the pills back in the bottle and pocketed the contents. "Let me have a look at him. I'll be right back."

  He dashed out before I could say anything. I looked at Roz and said, "You don't have to stay."

  She shook her head. "Pills. They scare me. I know plenty of people who take them. To hear them talk, it sounds as though it's like pushing a button. One to go to sleep, another to wake up. Not for me, no, thank you."

  Carter walked in. "Did you talk to Howie?"

  I shook my head. "He's out cold. I found a bottle of pills. Tom is up there now."

  Carter looked at our guest. "You don't have to stick around, Roz."

  She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Well, the courtesy of this establishment has fallen to a shocking low." She smiled warmly. "It's as I said to Nick on Sunday." She looked at me. "Oh my, was it only Sunday? It seems like weeks and weeks ago—"

  Before she could finish her thought, Tom dashed in and picked up the phone. He dialed zero. After a moment, he said, "Please send an ambulance to 717 North Cañon Drive in Beverly Hills. Tell them to hurry. There's been a drug overdose." He hung up before waiting for a reply. He walked around the counter and said, "OK, kids, here's what you're gonna do." Looking at Carter and me, he said, "You're gonna load your car up in a hurry and then you and Miss Russell and her groceries are gonna get the hell out of here. No arguments. I'll stay here and deal with the shit storm that's coming. The three of you can't afford to be here when the boys in white show up. They'll talk and then it'll be all over the papers." He looked at me. "You and Carter get to Joe's Diner. I know the place. Make that your war room for the time being. I'll call and check in when I have news. Everyone go."

  None of us moved. I was impressed with his directness but also in shock.

  He snapped his fingers. "Go."

  And we did.

  Chapter 31

  Joe's Diner

  307 North Broadway

  Los Angeles, Cal.

  Thursday, July 14, 1955

  A quarter past 2 in the afternoon

  Carter and I had been in the back booth of the diner for about twenty minutes when I saw Kenneth and Benjamin walk in. I was in the middle of a bowl of chili. Carter was finishing up a hamburger sandwich. They headed back and scooted in. Benjamin next to me, facing the door, and Kenneth next to Carter, facing the back.

  Joe, the owner, walked up with a sad face. We'd already told him about Gilbraith and he'd taken it hard. Apparently the lawyer had helped him out legally and did so pro bono. I suspected that Gilbraith might have also floated a loan or two for the guy.

  "Which one of you was a friend of Mr. Gilbraith's?" he asked as he poured coffee.

  Kenneth replied, "Me."

  Joe shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Mr. Gilbraith was a good lawyer and a loyal customer and a good friend." He sniffled. "I'm gonna miss him."

  Kenneth nodded. "Me, too."

  Joe asked, "You hungry? Whatever you want is on the house."

  Kenneth said, "I'd like an egg salad sandwich on wheat and a bowl of vegetable soup."

  Joe nodded. Looking at Benjamin, he asked, "You?"

  "Bring me a grilled cheese on white and a bowl of tomato soup."

  Joe nodded with a grimace. "Awfully hot today for soup."

  Benjamin smiled half-heartedly. "You're probably right but it hits the spot."

  Joe walked over to the cook standing behind the counter and put in the orders.

  I looked at Kenneth. "How is Martinelli?"

  "He's OK. Tough kid. And very confused."

  Benjamin added, "Can't say that I blame him. I still can't figure out what they're holding him on other than he's one of us and that makes him guilty."

  I said, "Gilbraith didn't say much but I got the feeling he thought that Ben..." I looked up at the two of them and grinned. "Ben White, that is... That he wouldn't be a credible alibi witness."

  Kenneth nodded as he grabbed one of my uneaten saltine crackers and popped it in his mouth without asking. As he chewed, he said, "We did have some luck, however."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "Seems like there's been a change in judge. Judge Stanley Mosk now has the case. I think we have a better chance with him."

  "How so?"

  "He's the judge who ruled that the whites-only covenants were illegal."

  Benjamin shifted in his seat.

  Kenneth said, "We don't completely agree about this."

  I looked at Benjamin who shrugged. "Just because the judge believes that Negroes and Jews are human beings who deserve the full protection of the law and have the same rights as everyone else doesn't mean he would believe the same about homosexuals."

  Kenneth said, "But he's better than any of the alternatives."

  Benjamin leaned in. "We don't know that."

  "Well, we're going to find out," snapped Kenneth in reply.

  If the matter at hand hadn't been so serious, I probably would have laughed. Instead, I said, "After you left, I went up to talk to Howie about us moving and found him passed out and unresponsive."

  Benjamin looked at me. "Was he OK?"

  "Dunno. I found a bottle of pills. When Tom saw them, he went to check on Howie. He came back and called for an ambulance. Then he made us leave in order to avoid the publicity.

  Kenneth asked, "Publicity? When have you ever—"

  Carter interrupted. "Rosalind Russell was at the house."

  Kenneth nodded. "Sorry about the kid. Will he be OK?"

  "I hope so. Tom said he would track us down here."

  Carter grinned half-heartedly. "You shoulda seen the way Tom fawned all over Roz."

  "Really? That big gorilla?" That was Ben.

  Carter frowned slightly. "Gorilla?"

  Benjamin cleared his throat. "Well—"

  Kenneth jumped in. "What Ben means is that he has an undying admiration for any man who is as dedicated to the art of physical culture as you and Tom."

  Carter smiled, "Spoken like a lawyer."

  We all laughed.

  . . .

  "Nick! How are you? Where are you?" That was Marnie.

  "Hi, doll."

  "Nick? You there?"

  The phone was one of those old jobs. I was pressing the earpiece against my head with my left hand and talking into the mouthpiece which was just above the dial. I adjusted the mouthpiece up a little so I was speaking into it more directly. "That better?"

  "Much better. So, where are you?"

  "We're camped out at a place downtown called Joe's Diner. There's a phone booth near our table. Gotta pencil?"

  "Of course." She sounded mildly insulted. That made me grin.

  "The number here is Mutual 2-2274."

  "Got it. I talked to that Billy Haines. He's such a card."

  "He thinks you're kinda swell."

  "And all those movie stars he knows. Gee, Nick. Are you meeting a lot of them while you're down there?"

  "A few. I don't think you would be too impressed, doll."

  She sighed. "Feet of clay, huh?"

  "Yeah. What did Billie say?"

  "He said to call him back when I knew where you were. Should I call him now?"

  "Yeah. Tell him to call here or s
top by. This is gonna be our office for the afternoon, at least."

  "You gonna buy one of those houses up in the hills with a view and a swimmin' pool?"

  "Maybe. Carter and I decided we like having a swimming pool."

  "You gonna put one in at your house here?"

  "No. It's too cold."

  "Yeah, well, it's chilly here today. How's the weather down there?"

  "Warm and smoggy."

  "Yuck."

  "You said it. Anything else?"

  "Mike wants to talk to you."

  "OK. How's Alex?" That was her husband.

  "He's great." I could hear the love in her voice.

  "You two ever gonna finish that honeymoon period of yours? When are you gonna come cryin' to me about how he beats you?"

  She laughed. "Never. 'Cause he knows what'll happen if he ever lays a hand on me."

  "The Four Terrors."

  "You got it. They're like the four horsewomen of the apocalypse, only worse. Hold on."

  I laughed as the line went silent. After about twenty seconds, I heard Mike's voice.

  "Nick?"

  "Hi, Mike. How are you?"

  "Fine. What's the latest?"

  I brought him up to speed on everything that had happened in the short amount of time since we'd last spoken.

  "Is he going to be OK?" asked Mike, referring to Howie.

  "I think so."

  "That Beverly Hills chief sounds like a piece of work."

  "Oh, yeah. I wish you could've been there to see it."

  "Well, he doesn't mind getting the limelight. He went to one of those Senate hearings a few years ago and denounced someone as a communist. I don't remember who it was, but the chief wasn't shy about getting his picture in the papers."

  "In this case, my guess is that he wants to stay outta the papers. I think he's involved somehow."

  "Any idea why he waited a couple of days before kicking you out of his town?"

  "I was wondering about that. My guess is that he wanted to see what we were up to. When we got caught walking down the street—"

  "That's a new one."

  "I know. I didn't tell you this part earlier. You'd have to know the layout, but it was obvious where we were going and that was to see Juan Zane. The only person we saw on our walk this morning was the cop who stopped us. But I'm pretty sure that our little stop at Juan Zane's house didn't go unobserved." I told him what I'd overheard. I added, "It's a strange place."