I lifted up my hand and said, "Chinese wall." Mike nodded and said, "If I get any more scoop, I'll let you know."
With that, he walked out.
Kenneth turned to me. "The fight has to have been about you, Nick."
I nodded. "I figured as much. Was Stanton building a chain of evidence to me?"
Kenneth took a bite of his sandwich and nodded grimly.
Carter said, "But, why Nick?"
I said, "He was grandstanding. Rostenkowski already knew it couldn't be Ivan. He must have verified everything with the Kopeks last night. I wonder if they ever found Karina?"
Kenneth said, "I'm sure we'll know soon. But, back to the hearing. Did you notice that Rossi had been coached?"
I nodded and quoted the police officer, "'1:50 a.m.' How would he know that precisely?"
"It wasn't just that. Stanton was building up to the lewdness angle. And that's when he was gonna drop you in it."
"But I never got a subpoena to testify."
"Doesn't matter. He was going to get one of the Kopeks on the stand."
Carter said, "But neither were in court."
Kenneth nodded. "Mrs. Kopek called me this morning. Stanton never sent them a subpoena. She asked if she had to go. I told her no."
I was surprised. "Is that ethical?"
Kenneth shrugged. "It's skirting. But it's definitely not ethical to call a woman at midnight and threaten her without force of law."
I saw Carter's heckles get kicked up. "Stanton did that?"
Kenneth smiled. "Yep. And he didn't realize Mrs. Kopek is one smart cookie."
"Did you get an investigation report from Stanton before the hearing?"
Kenneth nodded. "Sure. About thirty minutes before the hearing started."
"Anything interesting?"
"A few things. I was gonna use them on Rostenkowski under cross."
"Such as?"
"There was a wine glass in the sink. There's an unknown set of prints in the kitchen, on the glass, and on the back door. Of course, they haven't had enough time to get a report back from the F.B.I."
That matched what Lieutenant Rostenkowski had told us. "Anything else?"
"They don't have a gun but think the bullets came from a Luger." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Oh, and Ike's prints were only on the front door. Nowhere else."
Carter said, "That kid is smart." Kenneth and I both nodded in agreement.
We sat there in silence for a moment. Kenneth stood up and put on his coat. I said, "Great work today, counselor."
He winked at me as he put on his hat. He turned to leave and then stopped as if he remembered something. Turning back around, he looked at me dead on. "But, Nick, if Ike had been bound over, you would definitely have been called. And then it would have been open season. You're going to have to be more careful."
I nodded. Carter was looking at me thoughtfully with a crease of worry on his forehead.
. . .
I was checking on the chicken in the oven when the phone rang. Carter answered it. After a moment, he said, "Nick. It's Kenneth."
I stood up and walked over to the phone alcove. Carter handed the receiver to me and wandered back into the sitting room where Sam and Ike were talking and holding hands.
"Hi Kenneth," I said.
"Just heard from my contact in the F.B.I."
"You have a… Skip it. What did they say?"
"This morning, the San Diego County Sheriff arrested your comrade down by the border. They pulled her off a bus on its way into Tijuana. She's on her way up here."
"Interesting."
There was silence on the line. "You don't think she did it, do you?"
"Nope."
"Any evidence?"
"I keep thinking about that wine glass."
. . .
As we sat at the kitchen table and ate, I watched Ike and Sam interact. Ike kept using any excuse to touch the older man. It was as though his time in jail had made him realize what he had with Sam.
Carter, Sam, and I filled in Ike on all that had happened while he'd been locked up. Somehow the topic of his mother knowing Sam didn't come up. When I realized we'd all talked around it, I figured it would come out eventually.
I had picked up a chocolate cake over on Castro Street for desert. Once everyone was done with their chicken, I stood up and collected their plates. Sam stood up to help. He smiled warmly. "Thanks, Nick. You saved the day."
I walked over to the sink and said, "We'll see. It ain't over til it's over."
This got Ike's attention. "You mean you don't think my mom's friend did it?"
I shook my head. "I don't know what to think. I can't get away from the idea that this was a vendetta. I keep thinking about that wine glass in the sink. Would a die-hard Party member partake in the ill-gotten gains of a capitalist who bilked the motherland? She would be drinking blood money." I stood where I was and crossed my arms. "Nope. And whatever happened to the government official that absconded to Switzerland with Mr. Z?"
Carter asked, "Do you think he did it?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that I'll be very interested to hear what Karina has to say for herself. And whether her prints are a match to the ones the police found in the kitchen."
. . .
"Andy, I wanted you to sit down with Sam because it turns out he's quite skilled at tailing. As far as I can tell, he's been doing it since at least '35 and probably long before that."
It was Tuesday and Sam had come to the office with me and at my insistence.
Sam smiled at me from across the desk and just nodded. I liked his discretion. Hell, I liked his smile. But then I remembered Carter and his sweet, southern smile and that put an end to that.
Andy was sitting next to Sam on the other side of my desk. "You ever do P.I. work before?"
Sam shook his head. "I've mostly been doing odd jobs since I've been in America. Bumming around, I guess you could call it."
"I also think Sam knows the City like the back of his hand," I said.
He looked down, a little shy. "You could say that. I spent more than a few nights out on the streets when I couldn't afford a flop."
Andy looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
I knew what he was thinking. I looked at Sam and asked, "What have you been arrested for?"
Sam smiled and replied, "In San Francisco?"
I smiled back and said, "I'd guess you got in some trouble in Moscow and that's the reason you left. There's probably an old warrant for you in Czechoslovakia. Also the reason you left." I looked over at Andy whose eyes were bulging at that point. "But, San Francisco is all we're interested in."
Sam smirked and said, "Loitering once and solicitation once."
As if he didn't want to know the answer, Andy carefully asked, "What happened with both?"
Sam looked down at his new shoes for a moment. He crossed his right leg over his left, which wasn't easy with all those muscles, and said, "The judge was nice on the first one and gave me a warning. The second one…" He pulled on his right ankle with his meaty left hand. I noticed he wasn't wearing garters and that his sock was pooling at the top of his shoe. I figured living with Ike would probably take care of that oversight. "It wasn't entrapment. I see this handsome man walking down the street. I wink. He winks back. We duck into the alley and have ourselves a quick five minutes and it's all fine. Next thing I know, he's bringing me in for solicitation."
Andy laughed. "After it was all over?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. Real bastard. Only thing was, he never showed up in court the next day for the bail hearing so the prosecutor tossed it."
I looked over at Andy, who nodded. Turning back to Sam, I asked, "Think you could learn Chinese?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. I know plenty of Cantonese already. And I'm working on Mandarin. Can't read none of it yet, but I can understand most of what I hear and I'm learning to speak it. Cantonese is easier. That Mandarin is a real jawbreaker."
Andy's mouth dropped op
en. I asked Sam, "What were the other ones?"
"Polish, Swedish, German, French, Russian, and Czech."
"What do you think?" I asked Andy.
"When can you start?"
Sam looked up at me and let his foot fall back to the floor. "What? Are you offering me a job?"
I nodded.
He sat back in his chair and slumped. "I dunno. I'm not good at fitting in. I guess you could say that's why I'm a loner."
I laughed. "You wanna hear what my father calls this place?"
"What?"
"That outfit of misfits. And that's a direct quote."
Andy laughed and shook his head.
Sam smiled. "Damn. I can't turn down an offer like that."
"The job comes with an apartment. And it can be a two-bedroom if you want. But I don't think there are any openings at 335 Turk Street."
Sam smiled and thought for a moment. "Why would I want two bedrooms?"
I shrugged. "If you like sleeping on the couch when Ike throws you out of his bed, that's up to you."
We all laughed.
. . .
While we'd been talking to Sam, Carter and Dawson were driving with Ike over to Sugar Joe's. Carter had come up with an idea about getting Ike set up with his own gymnasium. I liked the idea. They were going over to get Sugar Joe's help.
After Sam left with Andy to go talk more about the details of the job, Robert knocked on the door frame. "Uh, Nick?"
I nodded and he came in. "What's up?"
"We don't have any two bedrooms open right now."
"Really? I thought everyone was moving to Daly City."
"Well, I've been extending leases a lot lately. Seems like the recession is causing some people to think twice about buying houses. And the ones who want to buy can't find any and are on waiting lists."
I nodded and looked over at Robert with a smile and a wink. "Fine. You know what to do."
He said, "Hold on," and walked back over to his desk. In a quick moment, he was back. "Which sounds better: 571 O'Farrell or 1243 Bush?"
I thought about it for a moment. "How big is O'Farrell?"
"It's about 4o units, and it's 14 stories."
"That's the one."
Robert smiled. "I don't know how you do it, but you always pick the one I like the best. I already put feelers out and the owner is ready. He wants cash."
I nodded. "Of course. You take care of it." I thought of something. "Can Carter and I have the plane on the 26th for a week or two?" We'd bought a big silver bird back in September from Mr. Howard Hughes. It was a Lockheed Super Constellation. We rented it out from time to time and Robert was in charge of taking care of all that.
Carter had christened it, "The Laconic Lumberjack," in honor of a guy named Red who'd helped us solve the murder of Carter's father in Georgia. The name was even painted on the side of the plane along with a cartoon image that looked a lot like Red.
Robert thought for a moment. "Yes. You want me to call Captain Morris and get that set up?"
"Yeah."
"Where to?"
"Rio de Janeiro."
Robert's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yeah. We're gonna need it after spending Christmas at Sacramento Street. Can you also find out about visas?"
"Sure." And, with that, he was off and running.
I heard Marnie sigh heavily in her office.
I stood up and walked over. "You OK, doll?"
"Oh sure, Nick. Rio sounds like a great place this time of year what with all this rain."
I nodded. "Do you have that phone number down in Brazil for Jerry Reynolds that I gave you?"
"Sure. You want I should call him?"
"Yeah."
"OK, Nick. Right on it." I watched as she paged through her notebook. When she found the number, she picked up the receiver. As she dialed the operator, she looked at me.
I said, "Do you mind if I watch the master at work?"
"Oh, Nick," she giggled.
After a moment she said, "International, please."
She tapped her pencil on the desk as we waited.
"I'd like to place a call to Brazil." Pause.
"Rio de Janeiro. 47732." Pause.
"Yes, operator. Oh, and time and charges, please. Thank you."
She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "She's going to try to get a line right now."
I smiled and walked back to my desk.
As I sat down, I heard Marnie say, "Oh, Nick! She got one. Go ahead and pick up."
I grabbed the receiver and listened. I heard a series of clicks. After about ten seconds, I could hear what sounded like a lot of wind on the line. A thickly-accented voice said, "This is Brazil."
The operator on this end said, "United States calling for Rio de Janeiro."
"What number, please?"
"47732."
"One moment."
A few moments later, the voice said, "Calling Rio de Janeiro. One moment." After a few moments more, I heard a click and the voice said something in Portuguese. Another voice replied. There was a long wait, followed by an odd sort of ring and a click. The other voice said something. Then the first voice said, "Go ahead United States."
The American operator said, "You may begin your call."
I yelled, "Jerry?"
"Yes?" His voice was there, but it was faint.
"Nick Williams."
"Nick!"
"How about the 26th?"
"Come on down, boy."
"I'm not for sure."
"What?"
"Not for sure."
"Oh, that's OK."
"What's the address for a telegram?"
"For a what?"
"Telegram!"
"I'll send you one. 777 Bush Street, right?"
"Yeah."
"Fine. See you soon!"
There was a click and the noise was gone. I held on to hear what the verdict was.
The operator said, "Time and charges?"
Marnie said, "Yes, please."
"Three minutes minimum. Twenty-seven dollars plus federal excise tax."
"Thank you, Operator."
"You're welcome."
. . .
I sat at my desk and contemplated Christmas day. This was the first year that Carter and I were celebrating other than being invited to parties. We'd never even exchanged gifts before.
In '47 we'd been going together for about three months when Christmas came around. That's when I'd told Carter I didn't like the holiday after he wanted to buy a Christmas tree for my apartment. He'd had the grace not to ask why and we'd never spoken about it again. Even after we moved into our house, Carter hadn't mentioned anything about the holiday. We'd just treated it like any other day in the week.
But, this year I needed to start thinking about a Christmas present for my husband. I stood up and walked into the front office. Robert was looking over some papers while Marnie was reading the Chronicle.
She asked, "What's up?"
"I need to get Carter a Christmas present."
She turned pink again, just like she'd done the day before. I wondered what that meant.
Robert piped up and said, "You could get someone to build out your basement into an actual gymnasium."
I turned and said, "That's a good idea."
Marnie said, "Yeah, Robert. He'd like that."
I asked Marnie, "Could you find someone to do that?"
She nodded and started to pick up the telephone. Before she did, she said, "You need to give him something. You know. On Christmas. You can't just give him a card that says, 'Good for one gymnasium.'"
We all laughed.
I asked, "Any suggestions?"
Robert said, "I saw a pair of sapphire cuff links in the window at Shreve & Company on Saturday when Henry and I were down there shopping."
I smiled. "We must have just missed you."
"Oh, no. We saw you and Carter down at Normandy Lane in City of Paris. Henry said you both looked like you were on a heavy date, so w
e turned around and walked the other way. Besides, we knew we would see you that night."
. . .
I stood in front of the window and looked at the sapphire cuff links. They were nice. Four small sapphires were set in a platinum square. This was right. It was next to a man's platinum ring with a sapphire. They were obviously a set and I thought about buying them both. Then I remembered that I didn't know Carter's ring size. Besides, I didn't want to give him a ring at my father's house.
I took a deep breath and looked at the cuff links again. I felt a little giddy and realized I'd been a sucker for not doing things like this more often. But, this had been a big year for spending money and I was on a roll. And, as my guy at Bank of America kept reminding me, every month I was making more so there was always more to spend even after taxes.
I walked under the wooden arch of the front door as the doorman held it open for me. He courteously tipped his hat and I nodded as I removed mine.
This was another store from my childhood. I'd been here once or twice with my mother and then never again. It looked exactly like I remembered. The store was a big room with long counters running down three aisles. Large gray-green and white marble columns supported a high ceiling overhead. Each column was decorated with an evergreen wreath capped with a red ribbon. The aroma of fir was in the air.
I walked up to the front desk. A petite brunette looked up and asked, "May I help you, sir?"
"Yes. I'd like to see the sapphire cuff links in the window."
"Certainly. Mrs. Rosalind will be happy to show them to you."
A woman of about fifty suddenly appeared. She had upswept auburn hair and was somewhat stout but regal in bearing. "Sir?" She beckoned me and I followed her down the length of the counter. We stopped about half-way down.
Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a blue box. I leaned over and examined the cuff links carefully. These were right for Carter.
"Is this a gift?"
"Yeah." I felt the need to stand up and correct my language, so I did. "Yes, please."
She smiled at me. "For your father, perhaps?"
I felt a pang of guilt. "No. These are for a friend. Could you wrap them for me?"
With a small smile, she said, "Certainly. Is there anything else you'd like to look at?"
I took a deep breath. "Can you suggest a gift for a father I don't really like and don't want to see on Christmas but have to?"
The Savage Son (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 6) Page 13