The Laconic Lumberjack
A Nick Williams Mystery
Book 4
By Frank W. Butterfield
Nick Williams Mysteries
The Unexpected Heiress
The Amorous Attorney
The Sartorial Senator
The Laconic Lumberjack
The Perplexed Pumpkin
The Savage Son
The Mangled Mobster
The Iniquitous Investigator
The Voluptuous Vixen
The Timid Traitor
The Sodden Sailor
The Excluded Exile
Nick & Carter Stories
An Enchanted Beginning
Golden Gate Love Stories
The One He Waited For
Their Own Hidden Island
© 2016 by Frank W. Butterfield. All rights reserved.
No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the copyright holder.
This book contains explicit language and suggestive situations.
This is a work of fiction that refers to historical figures, locales, and events, along with many completely fictional ones. The primary characters are utterly fictional and do not resemble anyone that I have ever met or known of.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Author's Note
Acknowledgments
Historical Notes
More Information
Laconic
lə-ˈkä-nik
1. Using or involving the use of a minimum of words.
2. Concise to the point of seeming rude or mysterious.
Lumberjack
ˈləm-bər-ˌjak
1. Someone whose job is to cut down trees for wood.
Chapter 1
137 Hartford Street
San Francisco, Cal.
Thursday, July 16, 1953
Just before 10 in the morning
I was walking downstairs, thinking about the three important things I needed to do that day when I heard a knock on the front door.
It was another bright day and the air was a little on the cool side, as summer days can be in San Francisco. Sinatra was crooning on the hi-fi. I was feeling better than I had felt in a while.
I could hear Carter Jones, my tall, muscled, ex-fireman husband, whistling along with Sinatra and, as always, he sounded handsome. I smiled at the oddness of that thought as I opened the door to see Marnie, the best secretary a guy ever had, and her mother, Mrs. Wilson, standing on the front porch looking sad and apologetic at the same time.
"Come in," I said as I stood back to let them pass.
They both walked in. Marnie was dressed for work. I knew she was going to be meeting Robert, our new boy wonder, at the office later to go over some new ideas about managing my real estate properties. I had hired him over a month ago, and he was working out fine. Better than fine. He was pretty sharp, that kid.
Marnie reached out a gloved hand and said, "Oh Nick! This is terrible!"
They were both standing in the entry hallway. I asked, "Can I get you some coffee?"
Mrs. Wilson said, "No, thank you. I just received a call from Carter's mother."
I was surprised. I knew they had been keeping in touch. Carter's mother was supposed to be visiting San Francisco in a little over a week. Plane tickets had been purchased and arrangements had been made for her to stay with Marnie and Mrs. Wilson, who lived one block up and two blocks over on Collingwood. Mrs. Jones didn't feel comfortable staying with us and, to be honest, the feeling was mutual.
I looked at Marnie, who was dabbing her eyes with one of her lace handkerchiefs.
"What's happened?" I asked.
"Oh, Nick! Carter's father is dead and they think it was murder!"
Mrs. Wilson bustled in an irritated way. "No one knows anything yet other than we're here to help you and Carter pack your bags and get you on a plane."
I shook my head. I wasn't about to go to Albany, Georgia. In July.
"No. There must be a mistake. She's coming here next week." I knew that sounded idiotic but it was what popped out of my mouth.
Mrs. Wilson took me by the elbow and pushed me into the sitting room. "You have to go upstairs and tell that man about his father. We'll be down here if you need us."
I shook my head. "Maybe--"
Mrs. Wilson was firm. "No maybe. He's dead. You have to go. Today."
It finally got through to me. I could hear Carter still whistling upstairs. I looked over at Marnie whose face brimmed over with concern.
I took a deep breath, crossed the sitting room, and began to walk up the stairs. They felt long and steep. I wasn't looking forward to this.
When I got to the landing at the top, I said, "Carter?"
He replied, "Yeah?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Can it wait? I'm on my way to meet Martinelli. We have that arson case down in San Mateo."
"No, honey, it can't wait."
"Honey? Since when--" He was quiet for a moment. "Is something wrong? Who was at the door?"
I entered the room carefully, stopping just inside the doorway, and watched him fiddle with his tie. He was looking at me through the mirror. As usual, he was stooping over to see his reflection. We really needed to get a bigger mirror. But, obviously, not today.
"Marnie and Mrs. Wilson are here."
"Why?" he looked confused.
"Sit down."
"I really--"
"Carter, your father is dead and someone murdered him."
He stood up straight, stopped fidgeting with the tie, and looked forward, without any further movement.
"Are you sure?"
I shrugged. "Yes."
"If you're sure, why are you shrugging? Besides everyone who ever knew him, who would want to kill Daddy?"
I sighed. "We're gonna go find out."
. . .
Two hours later we were packed. I had asked Marnie to lease a plane for us, and not just a little single-engine job. I wanted her to find a Constellation or a ship like that. I wanted something spacious that we could have to ourselves. I didn't want to deal with people and, since I could afford it, this time we were going in style.
She made a couple of calls to the international airport down near Burlingame. Someone there suggested Oakland. Someone there said to try San Jose. Eventually, she ended up back at the international airport. She had found someone who owned a Constellation and who was willing to lease it out for a week.
That was the other thing I wanted. I wanted a plane sitting on the tarmac in Albany fucking Georgia waiting for us. I didn't want a long drive to Atlanta followed by changing planes in another airport. A Constellation could get us to Albany in one or two hops. We might have to gas up in New Orleans or someplace like that. No dealing with passengers. Just the pilots and t
he two of us.
So, it was all arranged. The plane would leave at noon. That would put us in Albany around 11 that night, which wasn't bad.
Marnie also called Ralph, my intrepid travel agent, who got us booked into a two-bedroom suite at the New Albany Hotel downtown for a week. They were expecting us to arrive late, no problem.
Marnie and her mother rode with us down to the airport. The plan was that Marnie would then drive the car back to the house and that we would get a taxi when we flew home.
I pulled the Buick into the parking lot in front of the building where we would board the plane. It was a small aviation club building that also served as a kind of terminal for private pilots. I knew where it was as I had been to this building back in the summer of '51 while chasing down a deadbeat.
I left the others waiting in the car while I walked into the building in search of our pilot. There were only two men in the lounge area which had a picture-window view of the runway. I stood there for a moment and watched a United Boeing Stratocruiser take off. The fat body always looked to me like the plane was pregnant.
I could also see a shiny Lockheed Constellation not far from the building. Its nose was pointed towards the runway. A set of portable stairs led up to the open passenger door of the plane behind the wing. It looked like our ride was ready.
"Captain Riddle?" I asked the room.
One of the men stood up. He was on the tall side, lean, dark-haired, and with leathery brown skin. He looked very serious and not at all friendly.
"Are you Mr. Williams?"
"Yes. Where do we bring our luggage?"
"Just bring your car over to the plane and we'll unload it from there."
"How do we get to the plane?"
He pointed out a road that led to the tarmac next to the building. I went back outside, got in the car, and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the small road. We drove around the side of the building, onto the tarmac, and I parked the car near where Captain Riddle was now standing, waiting for us.
Marnie asked from the back seat, "Is he angry?"
"I dunno. Maybe that's just how he always looks."
We all piled out of the car. Another man came down the stairs as we did. He was also lean, a bit shorter than me, had fair hair, pale freckled skin, and was grinning broadly. He walked up and shook my hand.
"Mr. Williams?"
I nodded.
"I'm Captain Morris. I'll be Captain Riddle's co-pilot for your flight. I wanted to say how much of a fan of yours I am."
I smiled. "Thanks." I never really knew how to respond to that. I wasn't sure what, exactly, he might be a fan of.
"Thanks for being available at the last minute. This is a family emergency and I don't want to waste any time getting there."
Captain Morris nodded. "You can't beat flying a private Connie, particularly this one. I was surprised Mr. Hughes let you lease it."
This came as a surprise to me, too. I looked over at Marnie, who was chatting with her mother.
Turning back to the captain, I asked, "Mr. Hughes?"
"Sure. Howard Hughes. This is one of his planes."
"Really?"
"Sure. He rarely leases them out. I guess since we were already here, it just makes sense."
"And you know I want you on stand-by in Albany for a week?"
He nodded.
"And you know I'm talking about Albany, Georgia, not Albany, New York?"
He gave me a big grin and nodded. "Sure."
I looked over at Marnie again and then turned back to ask, "Could we show them the inside of the plane before we leave? Marnie Wilson is my secretary. She made all these arrangements. And she's here with her mother. I think they would get a kick out of getting to see the inside."
"That's fine, Mr. Williams. We'll be replacing the interior after we bring you back to San Francisco anyway, so that's no problem."
I wondered if the rumors were true about Hughes and his germs mania. Then again, maybe it needed an update. Constellations were relatively new ships. I hoped we weren't about to be flying in one that needed an updated interior already.
Carter was taking care of stowing the luggage in the belly of the ship with a handler who Captain Riddle had summoned from somewhere. The man, wearing a nondescript uniform, was crouched inside the hold while Carter was handing him up one piece at a time.
I walked up to Marnie and her mother. "Would you like to see the inside before we leave?"
Mrs. Wilson looked up at the plane, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.
I turned and quietly asked Marnie. "Did you know this plane is owned by Howard Hughes?"
Marnie whispered back in surprise. "No! Really?" She frowned. "I just called a number that a man in San Jose gave me. He said he thought there was a Constellation parked here and that the owner would be willing to lease it. The number went to a secretary who worked for a company I'd never heard of. She took care of everything." She put her gloved hand to her mouth. "Howard Hughes? Really?"
Carter walked up and asked, "What are you two whispering about?"
"We're leasing this plane from Howard Hughes."
Carter shook his head but said nothing. Famous names never meant much to him.
Mrs. Wilson, who'd been eavesdropping, leaned in and said, "Well, then. We have to see inside."
By this time, Captain Morris was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for us. Marnie and Mrs. Wilson walked up first followed by Carter and myself. Captain Riddle brought up the rear.
Captain Morris was welcoming and friendly to Marnie and her mother. As we entered the cabin, I could see that the interior was as nice as anything I'd ever seen and definitely didn't need any updates.
We were standing in a large lounge. There were long, comfortable leather sofas against both walls. The carpeting was deep. The colors of all the furnishings were variations on gold and brown.
At the front of the lounge were three rows of two oversized leather seats, one on each side of a wide aisle. There were also two narrow tables bolted to the floor, positioned at the forward ends of the two sofas, and facing each other. They made a perfect place for meals or could be used as small conference tables.
The co-pilot led us into the rear of the ship. There was a stateroom all the way aft. A large double bed pointed toward the end of the aircraft. An adjoining bathroom with a walk-in shower completed the suite. The layout reminded me of the private rail car that Carter and I had rented back in '49 on our big trip to New York. The space in the airplane was more compact but, somehow, it felt larger.
On our way back to the front of the plane, we met the stewardess for our flight. She was a tall woman who introduced herself as Christine. She asked for our drink orders. Marnie and Mrs. Wilson declined, saying they didn't want to hold us up. Captain Morris offered to show them the flight deck before they left. They walked forward and had a look while Captain Riddle stayed behind to talk to us.
"We probably could make it all the way to Albany, but since part of our flight will be at night, I'd rather sit down in Houston to top off the fuel tanks. That OK with you, Mr. Williams?"
I nodded. His face was tight and tense. Was he angry? Maybe he was just serious and ready to take off. I couldn't quite tell.
"And, as I confirmed with Captain Morris, you do understand that we want you on stand-by in Albany for a week, correct?"
He nodded without comment.
I simply said, "Good," in reply. Just then Marnie and Mrs. Wilson returned from their trip forward. It was time to say goodbye.
Marnie put her gloved hand on Carter's arm. As he leaned down, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry you have to do this, Carter. And, I'm sorry about your father." He nodded.
Mrs. Wilson took a long look at Carter. His eyes turned red like they did when he became emotional.
She said, "Be good to your mother. Try not to be too angry with her." Carter's handsome face contorted as the tears flowed. He put his right hand over his eyes and bent over slight
ly in distress. The two captains discreetly moved forward to leave us alone.
Mrs. Wilson, stalwart battle-axe that she was, reached an arm around Carter. He was simply too big for her to hug without it looking ridiculous and she knew it. She pulled him to her side and he leaned over towards her. As he did this, she gave him a peck on the cheek, as well. They stood like this for a long moment until she pulled back and said, "Time to go, boys."
Marnie said, "Bye, Nick. Take care of Carter."
"I will. Thanks, doll, for everything. You really are the best."
She smiled and quietly said, "Oh, Nick."
They walked to the door. Before she walked outside, Mrs. Wilson turned around in the doorway, looked at us, and said, "You two are like my own sons. I'm so proud of you both." With that, they walked down the stairs together and were gone.
Chapter 2
In the sky above the central valley of California
Thursday, July 16, 1953
A few minutes past noon
Once we were in the air, Christine came forward and asked us about lunch. For takeoff, we had each taken one of the oversized forward-facing leather seats. We were both in the middle row across the aisle from each other.
"I have two chateaubriand steaks and two roasted half-chickens. They both have roasted potatoes, sliced green beans with mushrooms, and a roll with butter. Which would you like, Mr. Williams?"
"I'll take the chicken."
She smiled. "I have beer or wine to drink."
"Beer, please."
She nodded.
Turning to Carter, she asked the same. "The steak and a beer," he replied. His eyes weren't quite as red as before.
She said, "I'll set you each a place at one of the tables." I wanted to eat together at one table but thought it might be better not to ruffle any feathers. I had begun to wonder if Captain Riddle was upset about flying two queers in his plane.
I said, "Thank you, Christine."
She smiled and replied, "You're welcome, Mr. Williams."
With that, she walked back to the galley.
I looked over at Carter and asked, "How're you doing now?"
He nodded and sniffed. "Better. But..." He looked straight ahead. "I don't want to do this."
I smiled at him. "We have to land at some point. We can always get on another plane and fly home."
The Laconic Lumberjack (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 4) Page 1