The Savage Son (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 6)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  She looked at me for a moment and then let out a small laugh. I smiled.

  "Yes. How about a watch?"

  "Sure." Again, I wanted to correct my language. I borrowed from Carter and said, "Yes, ma'am."

  She smiled more broadly at me this time and said, "Follow me." We walked across the store. She showed me a case of watches. "Does anything catch your eye?"

  I looked. There was that newer style of slim watch that I didn't like but I thought Parnell, my father, might enjoy. I said, "How about the slim one that's silver?"

  "Well, you have a discerning eye. That's a Palladium Cartier Hunt and it's an elegant watch. Is your father about the same build as yourself?"

  I nodded. "A little smaller."

  "That would be a fine choice." She looked me over for a moment. "Mr. Williams?"

  I sighed and said, "Yes."

  She smiled even more broadly. "This is a real pleasure." She shifted back to her professional demeanor and asked, "Anything else?"

  This was fun. "How about for a woman of 60 or so who is a real battleaxe?"

  Trying not to smile, she asked, "A pearl brooch?"

  I nodded.

  "Follow me."

  . . .

  After paying with one of my magical checks, I left. I'd bought much more than I'd meant to but had so much fun doing it that I decided I'd better leave before I bought the whole store.

  I walked back up to Union Square and wandered through a few more stores. By the time it was 2, I had bought something for everyone I could think of. I felt like I was flying high. Suddenly, I realized I hadn't called to check in, so I walked into a phone booth on Powell Street.

  "Consolidated Security."

  "Hi, doll."

  "Hi, Nick. Where are you? Everyone's looking for you."

  "I just finished all my Christmas shopping. I had no idea how much fun this could be."

  "Oh, Nick!" Marnie giggled.

  "So, who's looking for me?"

  "Well, Carter was. I covered for you. Said you were out talking to a new client. But, the important thing is Mike wants to talk to you. He's over at the North Station. He said for you to go there as soon as you can. That was about an hour ago."

  "Are Ike and Sam OK?"

  "Sure. This is about that Red they arrested."

  "Got it. Anything else?"

  "Hold on." I heard her hand cover the mouthpiece. After a couple of minutes, she said, "Robert wants to talk to you."

  "Fine."

  "Nick?" This was Robert.

  "Yeah?"

  "Two things. We're in on that O'Farrell property. It should close in about a month."

  "Great. What else?"

  "I talked to the Brazilian consulate. They said you can go for fifteen days as a tourist. I talked to Captain Morris and he says he can get everything arranged. Says you have to stop in Mexico City and then in Lima, Peru, for re-fueling, but it can be done. He also said they don't want to fly at night so you'll have to stay overnight in both cities each way."

  "That's fine. I'll know by tonight if we're not going. OK if I call you at home?"

  "Sure."

  "Thanks."

  I hung up the phone and grabbed the first cab I saw.

  . . .

  When I walked into the North Station, I didn't see Mike. I asked the desk sergeant, "Is Mike Robertson here? I'm supposed to meet him."

  The man sneered at me. "Go on back. He's with Lieutenant Rostenkowski."

  I nodded and walked around to the long hallway that led back there. The door was closed so I knocked on it.

  "Yeah?"

  I opened it and said, "Lieutenant?"

  "Come in, Williams. Have a seat."

  Mike was sitting in the other chair and looked relaxed. I wondered what this was all about.

  Once I sat down, the lieutenant said, "Seems like your Red ain't the one."

  "Fingerprints don't match?"

  "Right. You got any other ideas?"

  I nodded. "Who was the government official that absconded with Mr. Z to Switzerland?"

  Lieutenant Rostenkowski nodded. "Yeah. That was my thought."

  "I hear you think the bullets came from a Luger."

  "Yeah."

  I said, "The Swiss make damn good Lugers."

  The lieutenant leaned back in his chair and nodded.

  Mike asked me, "You think they were lovers?"

  Ignoring the lieutenant's snort of disgust, I said, "Maybe. I keep thinking about that wine glass in the sink."

  The lieutenant said, "Yeah. Me, too. Seems really personal. That's why your Kopek kid was the obvious suspect."

  "Where do we find this guy?" I asked.

  "We?" The lieutenant leaned back in his chair and smiled.

  I smiled back. "However we can help."

  "Yeah. About that. Seems like I owe you a favor. And, as far as I'm concerned, so does the F.B.I."

  "How so?"

  "I finally got a chance to take a swipe at that ass Stanton." He put his hands behind his head and looked satisfied. "And you put the g-men on the trail of a Red who was in the country without the right kind of papers."

  "Why was she here?"

  He smiled. "Oh, she was here to get the money alright. Just like you said. That's what I hear from my contact in the Bureau." He cleared his throat. "So, about that favor."

  I nodded.

  "I'm gonna write a letter to the investigator bureau about your provisional license and suggest it be reinstated for good. You're the kinda P.I. the City needs. Well…" He sat up and began to move things around on his desk. "Other than the perversion thing." He had the good manners to blush when he said that.

  I said, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate it."

  "I'm gonna try to talk the local F.B.I. chief into doing the same thing."

  I nodded.

  The lieutenant looked at me and pointed. "And then you and me. We're square."

  I nodded and smiled. "Sure."

  Chapter 15

  137 Hartford Street

  Thursday, December 24, 1953

  Just past 10 in the evening

  After going to a Christmas Eve party at Pam and Diane's, we wandered back over to our house. We were both a little tipsy and laughing as we walked up the front steps. I could hear the phone ring as we did so, but then it stopped. We'd forgotten to turn on the porch light, so I fumbled for my keys while Carter was groping me in the dark. As I inserted the key into the lock, I heard a moaning sound.

  Carter must have heard it too because he stopped what he was doing. We both stood still and listened.

  The moaning happened again, and it was coming from the space between the car grill and the garage door.

  "Hello?" I called out. More moaning. We both walked down the steps and walked around to where we'd heard the sound.

  Although it was dark, I could make out the form of a man sprawled out on the driveway. I said to Carter, "I think this is your department, big boy."

  As I stepped back, he walked around me and quickly picked the man up. As he did, I heard something metal clatter on the driveway. Ignoring that for the moment, I ran up the stairs, unlocked and opened the door, and stepped inside to turn on the porch light.

  I got a good look at the man as Carter came up the steps. He was probably fifty or so and was maybe 5'5" at the most. He looked small and thin against Carter's wide chest. His face was bruised and bloody. One eye was swollen shut while the other one was open but was bloodshot and unseeing. His hair was matted and covered in blood. He was wearing a dark overcoat, a gray suit, and a white shirt with a dark tie. The shirt was untucked. The man had been badly beaten.

  I said, "Put him in the car. We have to get him to the hospital."

  The man moaned in protest when he heard the word "hospital."

  I said, "Too bad, whoever you are. You're gonna die if you don't get help."

  I closed the door as Carter carried him over to the car. I hotfooted it around and opened the back door of the Buick. As Carter
gently laid him out on the backseat, I got behind the wheel, inserted the key, and turned the starter. As the engine came to life, I realized something.

  "Can you drive him over? We're gonna need Sam and Mike. I'll call them here and then meet you there."

  Carter said, "Good idea."

  I jumped out of the front seat and closed the door on Carter once he was behind the wheel.

  He pulled on the headlights, put the car in reverse, and quickly pulled out. As he headed down the street, I walked over and kicked what I'd seen in the flash of the headlights: a gun.

  Using my handkerchief, I gingerly picked it up by the handle. I walked up the steps and, under the porch light, I examined it. It was an older Luger. It didn't look like it had been fired recently. I quickly ejected the cartridge and put both in my coat pocket.

  I opened the door, walked over to the phone, and dialed the Saint Francis Hotel. Once the hotel operator answered, I asked, "Can you connect me to the room of Sam Halversen?"

  The line began to ring. I heard the phone pick up and a sleepy voice said, "Hello?"

  "Sam? It's Nick."

  I heard some rustling and a whisper. "Hi, Nick. What's up?" We'd sent the two lovebirds over to the Saint Francis on Tuesday night.

  "Time for you to go to work. Get dressed fast, grab a cab, and head over to the city hospital. Either Carter or myself will be in the emergency waiting area. Got that?"

  "Sure. What about Ike?"

  "Leave him there but tell him to stand by. We might need him, too. Gotta go."

  "OK."

  I pressed down the switch hook. Once I heard the dial tone, I called Mike's number.

  "Yeah?" It was Bud, Mike's lover.

  "It's Nick. Lemme talk to Mike."

  "Sure."

  "Yeah?" Mike sounded sleepy.

  "Can you head over to the city hospital P.D.Q.?"

  "Sure. What's up?"

  "We found that government official. He's been beaten. And it's bad. One of us will be in the waiting area."

  "See you there."

  I put the receiver down.

  As soon as I did, the phone rang.

  "Yeah?"

  "Mr. Williams?" It sounded like Mrs. Kopek. I wasn't surprised.

  "Yeah?"

  "My husband--"

  "He's missing, right?"

  "Yes. How you know?"

  "When did you last see him?"

  "He went to store at 8 to get milk. He no return. I worry."

  "Sit tight and keep the phone open in case we need to call you. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. How you know?"

  "Someone else from Petervald is here. That government official."

  There was a long pause and then she said, "Yes. I see." Her voice was sad and full of melancholy. She saw all too well.

  I put the phone back in its cradle.

  . . .

  I walked through the familiar doors of the city hospital. I had swept, mopped, and otherwise cleaned every bit of that building from '45 until '48, so I knew exactly where to go.

  I walked right up to a nurse station. I recognized the woman on duty. Her name was Priscilla Arthur, but everyone called her Prissy. She was a little younger than me with blue eyes and a sturdy body. Her straight blonde hair was pulled up and pinned under her cap. She saw me coming and smiled.

  "Well, look what the cat dragged in! What are you doing here on Christmas Eve, Nick?"

  I smiled. "Good to see you, Nurse Prissy."

  "We still talk about the millionaire orderly around here. What a shock."

  I said, "Look. My partner Carter Jones brought in a man about ten or fifteen minutes ago. The man had a badly-injured face and was probably unconscious."

  She nodded. "They just took him to clean him up. You can't go see him, yet."

  "Do you have a cop on duty tonight?"

  "Sure. You know him. That Patrolman Jones. Still here. He's never been promoted." She snorted. "Why?"

  "Where can I find him?"

  "He's around here somewhere. You want me to page him?"

  "Yes. It's important."

  While she made the announcement, Sam walked in the door. Although he was wearing an overcoat and his new trousers, he looked like he'd just fallen out of bed. I said to him, "I think we just found the government official. The one who went to Switzerland." Sam's eyes widened and he nodded.

  I turned to Prissy. "This is Sam Halversen. He's a translator. The man they brought in probably doesn't speak English. Sam could help the doctor."

  She looked me over for a moment and then said, "He's in room 7. Go down to the end of the hallway and turn right. Third door on your left."

  Sam nodded and trotted quickly down the hall.

  Just then, a lanky patrolman walked up. "Well, if it isn't the millionaire orderly!" He offered his hand and I shook it.

  "Good to see you. Say, in room 7, the doctors are working on a man that I believe is the guy who did the murder up on Lombard Street. You know the one I'm talking about?"

  "Sure. That's the one you was in the papers about, right?"

  I nodded. "That's the one. You might wanna go down and keep an eye on him. I don't think he's in any shape to make a break for it, but better safe than sorry."

  The patrolman hoisted his belt and said, "That's right. I'll go down there and see what's what. Room 7, right?"

  I nodded as he turned and slowly cantered down the linoleum floor.

  Prissy laughed. "Slow as always. If you'd told him the building was on fire, he wouldn't walk any faster."

  I sighed and asked, "So, are you and that Rick still an item?"

  She smiled broadly, held up her hand, and showed me a thin gold wedding band. "You're now talking to Mrs. Richard Gomes! We're married!"

  "When?"

  "Oh, about three years ago. He's at his dad's house up in Healdsburg tonight. As soon as I'm off, I'll be driving up there and, we'll spend the next couple of days with the old man."

  "Where you living these days?"

  "Daly City! We bought a nice three bedroom. It's real sweet. You should come visit."

  I nodded and said, "Just drop me a line sometime and let me know. It'd be nice to catch up."

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around to see Mike standing there. I said, "Excuse me, Prissy. Business calls."

  She smiled. "Good to see you, Nick. You take care."

  "You, too. Merry Christmas."

  . . .

  The waiting room was a big square just off the entrance. There were rows of hard-back chairs arranged in different configurations. The room was mostly empty except for a couple of worried-looking families and a handful of men and women who were sitting alone. We found Carter in the back, as far away from everyone else as possible, except for a couple of men scattered nearby. They both had their hats pulled down and appeared to be asleep.

  As we sat down with Carter, I explained to Mike who I thought the man was and how we found him.

  "So, any idea why he was at your house?" We were both speaking softly.

  Carter leaned in and said, "I have a theory. I think Kopek saw the man over on Turk Street and followed him to our house. That's where Kopek attacked him."

  "Why didn't anyone on the street hear it?" Mike asked.

  Carter replied, "They were either asleep with the windows closed, still awake with the radio or TV on, or at a party."

  . . .

  After about fifteen minutes, a doctor walked up to us with Sam in tow. We all stood up.

  "I'm Dr. Lemuelson." Looking at me, he asked, "You're Mr. Williams?"

  I nodded.

  Looking at Carter, he asked, "And you're the one who brought in my patient?"

  Carter nodded.

  "It's fortunate you had a translator handy. Otherwise we would have missed some internal injuries."

  "How's he doing?"

  "It's touch and go. We're prepping him for surgery."

  Sam said, "Don't waste your energy, doc. The man's a dirty dog."
r />   The doctor said, "When I treat a man, I can't take that into consideration. That's a matter for the police. However." He cleared his throat. "This is the city hospital, so we care for everyone, but I'm obliged to ask you, Mr. Williams, if you will be liable for the man's care."

  I nodded. "Sure. I'd rather have him alive so we can find out what happened."

  The doctor sighed. "I can't guarantee anything, but we're going to try to do what we can."

  I nodded and said, "Thanks."

  With that, the man turned and left.

  I asked Sam, "Did he say anything helpful?"

  Sam shrugged. "He kept talking about 'the man who did it.'"

  "What language was he speaking?"

  "Czech."

  I said, "Very interesting. Any idea what his name is?"

  A voice said, "His name is Lubor Valek and I tried to kill him."

  One of the men I thought was sleeping suddenly stood up and turned to face us. It was Mr. Kopek.

  . . .

  While Mike went to call Lieutenant Rostenkowski, we put Mr. Kopek next to Carter, who held his arm tightly. Sam and I pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down in front of him. I noticed that Mr. Kopek had looked at Sam and then promptly ignored him.

  I asked, "How did you get here?"

  He shrugged. "I took a cab. I didn't feel so well." His skin was pale and he was sweating. He stopped to catch his breath. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

  I said, "Tell us what happened."

  "Anna was making potatoes and needed milk. I went down to the street to go to the store to get some. I surprised him." He paused. His breathing was getting more labored.

  Carter asked, "Should we get you a doctor?"

  Mr. Kopek waved him off impatiently and continued. "He was looking at the list of names in the building. When I see him, I call out and he ran away. I go outside and he is running towards Van Ness. I follow him three blocks, huffing and puffing." He stopped again and wiped his face.

  "When he get there, I see him take cab. I get one, too, and we follow. When I see him going up Market towards Eureka Valley, I know where he goes. So, I tell cab to go up to 20th Street. Then he slowly drives down Hartford and let me off at 18th Street."

  He stopped to wipe his face one more time and to take a deep breath. His color wasn't good. I wondered if he was having a heart attack. I looked around for Prissy but didn't see her.