The Iniquitous Investigator (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 8)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Why's that?"

  "I read the newspaper."

  I groaned. "I don't. And don't tell me."

  The captain chuckled. "Don't you mind them Hearsts. We can be ready to set sail any time after 9 this morning. What's your pleasure?"

  "How about 10?"

  "Fine. How many should I prepare for?"

  "Just Carter and me."

  "Good. Everything'll be ready for you. Calm winds and flat seas. We can go up the Marin coast, if you'd like."

  I hesitated and wondered if it would be better to go south. But the headlands were beautiful. "That'll be fine, Captain. Thanks."

  "My pleasure, Mr. Williams."

  . . .

  Carter and I were sitting on the top deck of The Flirtatious Captain. The sun was bright and warm in a big blue sky. I was nestled in Carter's arm as we passed under the Golden Gate Bridge. As usual, we got some friendly waves from the tourists who were standing at the railing looking out over the bay. We waved back as O'Reilly gave them a couple of friendly toots from the ship's whistle.

  We'd lost almost all of our clothes in the fire. So, after spending a Saturday doing some initial shopping, I'd given Robert and Gustav the job of filling out our wardrobe. I had no idea how much money they'd spent, but we now had the latest fashions in everything you could imagine. That included short sleeve shirts and shorts to wear on the ship. These were stocked in the main suite below deck.

  I stood up as we moved beyond the bridge. "Come on, Chief. Let's get out of these city clothes and try out the new stuff." He rolled his eyes but stood up and followed me down the stairs to our suite.

  I walked into the room and pulled off my coat and tie. As I did this, I heard Carter close the door and lock it. He put his arms around me from behind and began to remove my clothes himself.

  . . .

  Later on, Carter and I were sitting aft on a cushioned bench with its own table. We both had on shorts and pull-over shirts. Neither of us was wearing shoes. It wasn't as warm as Mexico has been the year before, but it felt good to be loose and open like that. For lunch, the crew had made sandwiches and we were enjoying them. O'Reilly was cruising north along the Marin coast. It was summer, so the hills were golden instead of green. When the rain started in the fall, the green would be back and would be bright.

  "Are you ready for tomorrow?" asked Carter as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He took a swig of beer.

  I shrugged. "I know this sounds corny, but whatever happens, you'll be there."

  Carter leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "I will, at that."

  "Are you ready?"

  "I'm a little scared, to be honest. It feels like some sort of bad dream. I just want it to be done and over."

  I nodded. "It will be. They don't have anything. By this time tomorrow, it will all be over."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  . . .

  We drove onto the tarmac in front of the private terminal and waited. Carter had driven the Mercury down to the airport. It was a fine evening, so we had the top down. We sat up on the back of the back seat, watching planes landing and taking off, and talked about nothing much, as we liked to do.

  Around 8:30, I saw the Convair land. We watched as it taxied over to where we were. I didn't see any crew around, so Carter and I walked over to the portable stairway and pushed it over to the airplane. After locking it into place in front of the aft door, just like we'd seen the crew do before, we walked up the stairs. As we were doing so, the stewardess opened the door and said, "Hello, Mr. Williams. Mr. Jones." We'd been introduced when they'd left from Oakland, but I couldn't remember her name. She was tall, had strawberry blonde hair, was buxom and pretty with blue eyes and a pert nose.

  Carter asked, "How was the flight, Verniece?" That's why I couldn't remember her name. She looked more like a Marilyn.

  "Just fine, Mr. Jones. Won't you come in?"

  We walked into the airplane. Like the other two I owned, there was a short row of forward-facing seats in the forward section of the plane. The rear, however, was lined with couches under the windows and had a galley mid-ship.

  Marnie and Lettie were gathering their things. My father stood next to the galley and was pulling on his coat. I was surprised to see two unexpected faces. The first was Carter's mother. She smiled at me and I did the same. The other was John, Carter's cousin. He saluted and grinned.

  They were both just getting up from their seats. Mrs. Jones was pinning her hat to her head and John was pulling on his coat. I looked over at Carter who was genuinely happy. He put his hands on his hips and said, "Well, this is a damn mighty fine thing to see."

  Lettie said, "Carter, please watch your language in front of your mother."

  Everyone laughed.

  . . .

  Since we'd only brought the one car, we had to call a taxi. My father, Lettie, and Marnie took that home.

  Mrs. Jones and I climbed into the backseat of the Mercury while John, who was almost as tall as Carter, rode up front. As Carter pulled the car onto the Bayshore Freeway, I clapped John on the shoulder and said, "Well, howdy, stranger. How's Aunt Velma doing?"

  John turned in his seat and smiled. "She's gonna be fine. Those Carter women are made of strong stuff."

  I looked at Mrs. Jones who smiled and nodded. She seemed like a completely different person. She also didn't appear to be upset that Carter hadn't attended the funeral. I wondered what had happened in Georgia.

  John continued, "Aunt Louise and I were talking yesterday at the church. She suggested we both hitch a ride out here with Lettie, Parnell, and Marnie." It still made me laugh to hear someone use my father's first name. In my mind, he was always "Dr. Williams."

  Mrs. Jones reached over and put her gloved hand on my arm. I patted it and she grabbed my hand and held it. It was very sweet. And unexpected.

  John said, "We thought we could offer moral support. Heck, Nick, I plan on attending every one of your trials."

  We all laughed.

  Chapter 7

  Superior Court for the County of Marin

  Room 100

  San Rafael, Cal.

  Monday, July 12, 1954

  Just past 10 in the morning

  "All rise. The Honorable Jackson Roswell, presiding."

  A short, pudgy man with piercing dark eyes and wearing a black robe entered the courtroom from the rear, stepped up onto the bench, and sat down. He said, "Be seated." His voice had a slight nasal quality to it.

  Carter and I sat down at the defense table on the left next to Kenneth. At the prosecutor's table, the Marin County District Attorney William Weissech was sitting on the left with his deputy, Roger Garety, on the right. Behind Weissech, Sergeant Stewart O'Connor was seated against the bar.

  The gallery was packed. My father, Lettie, Mrs. Jones, and John were sitting right behind us. When we'd walked in, I'd seen reporters from each of the four San Francisco dailies and a few I didn't recognize. I'd also seen Jeffery Klein, Esquire, my ex-friend, ex-lawyer, and ex-lover. He'd nodded at me and I nodded in return.

  The judge looked at his notes. "This is a preliminary hearing in the matter of State of California versus Nicholas Williams and State of California versus Carter Jones. The charge in both cases is misdemeanor vagrancy." He looked down at the prosecutor's table. "And I note that the District Attorney is here today. Welcome, Mr. Weissech."

  The D.A. stood up and said, "Thank you, Your Honor. If it please the court, I will be assisted today by my deputy, Roger Garety." Garety stood up as well.

  The judge smiled and then looked at our table. "Defense?"

  Kenneth stood. "Kenneth Wilcox for the defendants, Your Honor."

  The judge smiled sourly at Kenneth. "I don't believe I've seen you in my courtroom, Mr. Wilcox. Where is your practice?"

  "My office is at 937 Pine Street, in San Francisco, Your Honor."

  "San Francisco." The judge made it sound like a piece of bad fish. He then looked at me and Cart
er. Kenneth motioned that we should stand up and we did.

  "And the defendants?"

  I wasn't sure what to do. Kenneth whispered, "Say your name."

  "Nicholas Williams, 1198 Sacramento Street, San Francisco." I heard a camera go off behind me.

  The judge brought down his gavel. "Bailiff, remove that man."

  One of the bailiffs walked into the gallery and said, "You heard His Honor. Out." I was afraid to turn around, so I just looked forward, noticing that the judge was enjoying his little exercise of authority. I could feel a knot forming in my stomach.

  Once the bailiff had returned to his spot, the judge said, "Thank you, Bailiff. Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a circus. I will tolerate no photographs and no outbursts of any kind. I will not hesitate to clear this courtroom. Marin County is not San Francisco, so I invite you to bear that in mind. This is a preliminary hearing which I do not expect to take long. Now." He looked at Carter. "You, sir."

  Carter cleared his throat. "Carter Jones, 1198 Sacramento Street, San Francisco."

  The judge narrowed his eyes at Carter. "You have the same address as Mr. Williams?"

  Carter said, "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Employee?"

  "No..." Carter turned and looked at me. "Well, yes, Your Honor."

  "Which is it?"

  "I'm an employee of Consolidated Security, Incorporated, which is owned by N--" He swallowed. "Mr. Williams."

  The judge smiled again. There was nothing friendly in this smile.

  "And, you, Mr. Williams. I understand you are related to Mr. Paul Williams, the notorious scoundrel and deviate?"

  Kenneth moved next to me but didn't say anything.

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  The judge nodded. "Fine. Now that we know who we all are, Mr. Weissech, you may proceed."

  Kenneth sat down. Carter and I followed suit. The knot in my stomach was getting tighter.

  The D.A. said, "Call Sergeant Stewart O'Connor."

  O'Connor stood up and walked towards the stand. An older man with a slight stoop and white hand held out a Bible. "Place your left hand on the book and raise your right hand." O'Connor did that. "Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

  O'Connor nodded and said, "I do."

  The man said, "Be seated," and walked back to his desk, which was just to the left of the bench. The stenographer, a lean man in his 30s, was just in front of the bench and had his fingers poised on his machine waiting for the questioning to start.

  Weissech walked to the stand and said, "Please tell the court your full name and occupation."

  O'Connor replied, "Stewart J. O'Connor, Police Sergeant for the City of Sausalito."

  "Thank you. For the record, had you ever seen either of the defendants before last Monday?"

  "No, sir."

  "Thank you. Now, Sergeant, I direct your attention to the afternoon of Monday, July the fifth. Can you tell me what transpired that day?"

  "Yes, sir. I was sitting at my desk at approximately 11 a.m. that morning when I received a call from Police Officer Joseph Young. He was at the desk when two men walked into the station. Upon questioning them, Officer Young called me."

  "And, to your knowledge, why did Officer Young call you?"

  "He called me because he believed the two men to be guilty of vagrancy while lewd or dissolute."

  "And what did you do?"

  "I brought the two men--"

  "One moment, Sergeant. Can you identify the two men?"

  "Yes, sir." He pointed. "They were Nicholas Williams and Carter Jones."

  "Let the record show the positive identification of defendant Williams and defendant Jones."

  The judge said, "So noted."

  Weissech asked, "Where did you take the men?"

  "I brought them upstairs into the interrogation room. I made an identification of both men and asked them of their recent whereabouts. They both said that they had been wandering about near the marina in an area known as a trysting spot for sexual deviates."

  "And what did you do next?"

  "I arrested them both for vagrancy. They were processed by Officer Young and placed in custody."

  "Thank you, Sergeant O'Connor." Turning to face Kenneth, Weissech said, "Your witness."

  Kenneth stood up and was walking towards the stand when the judge spoke up. "Excuse me, Mr. Wilcox?"

  Kenneth stopped halfway across the floor and looked up. "Yes, Your Honor?"

  "I don't know how it works in San Francisco, but in my courtroom it is customary for an attorney to ask permission to approach."

  Kenneth stood for a moment and didn't say anything. After two beats, he asked, "Permission to approach, Your Honor?"

  The judge smiled sourly. "You may approach."

  "Thank you, Your Honor." Kenneth's voice was even, which was impressive.

  "You're welcome, counselor. Proceed."

  Kenneth walked up to the stand and said, "Sergeant O'Connor, did you ask Mr. Williams and Mr. Jones why they were in Sausalito?"

  Weissech stood up and said, "Objection, Your Honor. No foundation."

  Kenneth looked up and said, "Your Honor--"

  The judge looked down. "Sustained."

  Kenneth turned and looked at the sergeant. "Sergeant, what else did you say or ask the defendants apart from taking their identification?"

  Weissech was up again. "Objection. No foundation."

  Kenneth didn't say anything. The judge looked down and asked, "Well, Mr. Wilcox?"

  "Your Honor, in order to get to the reason for the arrest, I have to be able to ask what the arresting officer knew and what formed the basis for his arrest."

  The judge said, "Sorry, Mr. Wilcox, but Mr. Weissech did not ask about the sergeant's knowledge or the basis. Objection sustained."

  Kenneth started, "Your Honor--"

  "Sustained, Mr. Wilcox. Now, move on or dismiss the witness."

  Kenneth put his hands on the rail in front of the stand and rocked slightly on his feet. "Sergeant, can you repeat your testimony as you gave it when Mr. Weissech was questioning you?"

  Weissech sat very still. I noticed he was calm and dispassionate. It was odd.

  The sergeant looked confused. "I don't think I can recall exactly what I said."

  Kenneth nodded. "Perhaps, we could have the court reporter read back your testimony?"

  The sergeant nodded. "Sure."

  Kenneth walked over to the stenographer and asked, "Could you read back Mr. Weissech's questions and the sergeant's responses?"

  The stenographer looked at his tape and said, "Where should I start?"

  Kenneth replied, "Start with 'Where did you take the men?'"

  The stenographer looked through the tape, found the spot and began to read:

  Mr. Weissech: Where did you take the men?

  Sergeant O'Connor: I brought them upstairs into the interrogation room. I made an identification of both men and asked them of their whereabouts. They both said that they had been wandering about near the marina in an area known as a trysting spot for sexual deviates.

  Mr. Weissech: And what did you do next?

  Sergeant O'Connor: I arrested them both for vagrancy. They were processed by Officer Young and placed in custody.

  Kenneth said, "Thank you." He walked back over to the stand. "Now, sergeant, when you asked the defendants about their whereabouts, did they mention anywhere else they'd been besides the marina?"

  I found myself bracing for an objection. So did O'Connor since he hesitated before answering. After a long moment, he said, "They said they'd had breakfast at the Rexall."

  "And where did they go after breakfast?"

  "To the marina."

  "Do you have any idea why they were in the police station in the first place?"

  Weissech stood up. "Objection. Foundation."

  The judge said, "Sustained."

  Kenneth took a deep breath and asked, "You testified that you
had never seen either of the defendants before, is that correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you read the San Francisco Examiner?"

  Weissech didn't even stand up this time. "Objection. Irrelevant and immaterial."

  The judge said, "Sustained."

  Kenneth stood there for a moment and seemed to be thinking. He asked, "How many years have you been working for the Sausalito police?"

  O'Connor looked at Weissech and got nothing. "I started in 1935."

  "And in those nineteen years, have you ever arrested someone for vagrancy inside the police station?"

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Isn't vagrancy something that happens outside?"

  "Well, yes, I guess you could say that."

  "But you arrested these men after you took them in for questioning and not before. Don't all vagrancy arrests happen outside the police station?"

  O'Connor looked confused and worried. "Yes. I guess so."

  "What makes this arrest different than all those others?"

  I began to smile. I'd seen Kenneth in action before. He was a great attorney.

  "They admitted to vagrancy."

  "How so?"

  Weissech stood up. "Objection."

  The judge smirked at the D.A. "Grounds?"

  Weissech stood there for a long moment. Finally, he said, "Withdrawn," and sat back down.

  Kenneth asked, "How did they admit to vagrancy, Sergeant?"

  "They said they'd been by the marina."

  "That was all they said?"

  "No. They said they'd been to breakfast. And then walked over to the bushes area by the marina."

  "Why did they come to tell you?"

  Now O'Connor was boxed in. "They said they'd been attacked."

  "By whom?"

  "Some kids."

  "What did these kids look like?"

  "I don't know."

  "Why don't you know?"

  "Because anything they would say would be a lie."

  There was a stir in the gallery.

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because they're both known sexual deviates."

  There was even more of a stir. The judge brought his gavel down hard. "Order."