"And?"
"He didn't like that I was meeting with you, Mr. Williams."
I smiled and said, "Lotsa people feel that way. You need a place to stay?"
He nodded.
"And a job?"
He nodded again.
"Well, you got both." I turned to Robert, who'd been listening. "Can you get Bobby set up?"
Robert smiled. "Sure thing, Nick."
I said, "Bobby Cheung, this is Robert Evans. He manages all my properties. He'll get you set up in a furnished apartment. And you can start working for us. The rent's included in the pay."
Bobby looked around at everyone. "No joke?"
I shook my head. "No joke."
Turning to Marnie, I said, "And put him on the payroll at the usual."
She smiled and replied, "Will do, Nick."
I looked over at Captain Morris. "But, before we do anything else, let's find out what the Captain here has to say." I introduced Bobby to both Morris and Obregon and added, "Bobby will be going with us to Hong Kong. He's from around there." I looked over at the kid. "Right?"
He nodded. His eyes were wide and astonished.
Captain Morris nodded. "Well, we've plotted out a course. But there's something we need to talk with you about first."
"Fine. Does Robert need to be part of this?"
Captain Morris nodded.
I said, "OK. I need to talk to my father and stepmother before anything else. If you two can wait another fifteen minutes or so, I'll be ready then. That OK?"
"That's fine, Mr. Williams."
. . .
"What's up?"
Lettie asked, "Have your men made any progress in investigating Geneva's story?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. I can get Mike in here, if you want."
Lettie put out her gloved hand. "No. The reason we stopped in is to let you know that we're not sure digging into the past is such a good idea."
I looked from Lettie to my father and back. I knew they had Geneva's best interest at heart but still wondered what their real concern was. "How so?"
My father cleared his throat. "Geneva is a remarkable woman and we are quite fortunate to be counted among her friends. I just think that she is, perhaps, being a little precipitate. If no one is looking for her, then why dredge up the past?"
I nodded and waited. I knew there was more coming.
Lettie added, "She is very dear to me and I don't want anything to happen to her."
I nodded but said nothing.
My father cleared his throat again. "You see, Nicholas, we know that she is quite guilty of that murder. We also know that she was quite justified. No one, no woman, should ever have to endure such degradation."
I was waiting for the shoe to drop. I suspected I already knew but I wanted one of them to tell me. So I waited.
Lettie stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazed down at Market Street. The sun was out and there was a big blue sky over the City. "Louise is quite beside herself. And we don't know why."
That was it.
"Geneva can face anything. That's quite obvious." That was my father.
Lettie added, "But there are times when I believe Louise is at the end of her tether."
I took a deep breath. "Whose idea was it for Geneva to come in here with her story?"
Lettie turned and looked at me. "We all agreed."
I nodded. "Yes, but who came up with the idea?"
Lettie blinked a couple of times. "I see what you mean. It was Louise, of course. Geneva told us ladies the story over luncheon one day a couple of weeks ago. She was spurred to do so after reading an article in the Call-Bulletin about a murder in Los Angeles. A few days later, we were meeting to discuss the foundation and, as we were having coffee, Louise brought up the story and suggested we pay you a visit. She said that she thought Geneva might want to find out where things stood."
I stood and walked over to my desk. Picking up the phone, I dialed Carter's extension. When he answered, I asked, "Do you have five minutes?"
"Sure."
"Thanks." I put the receiver back on its cradle.
"Who was that?" asked my father.
"Carter. I want him to hear what you have to say. He might have a suggestion or two."
They exchanged glances. Lettie sat down next to my father as he took her hand in his.
After a long moment, my father asked, "What's this about Hong Kong?"
"We have a case over there. I think we'll be leaving on Friday. Maybe Saturday."
My father nodded. "I hear it's quite different these days."
"You've been there. I forgot."
He smiled wanly. "In 1928. On my way to Indochina. That trip did not go very well."
Before I could ask about that, I heard Carter knock on the door. He walked in and said hello to my father and Lettie.
We both sat down across from them. I said to Lettie, "Tell Carter what your concern is."
She and my father repeated to him what they'd said to me. She ended by saying, "I now see that Geneva's story has some element that has disturbed your mother."
Carter sighed and looked out the window. "When y'all were here that day, Nick and I saw her and Aunt Velma have a moment. We asked my cousin John about it. He told us something that Uncle Roscoe had told him not long after my father died."
Lettie raised her gloved hand. "We don't wish to get involved in family matters—"
Both Carter and I started talking over each other.
I said, "That's the whole—"
He said, "I think of you—"
We both laughed. I said, "You first."
He leaned in and said, "I think of you two as family and I know Mama does too. So, this is a family matter and y'all are family."
Lettie took out a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed one eye with it. "Thank you, Carter."
My father nodded. "Yes, thank you, son."
That made my eyes get wet for a moment.
Carter said, "So, I'm gonna tell you what John told us and then you can decide what you want to do."
They sat and quietly listened as Carter outlined the story. Once he was done, Lettie was dabbing both eyes. My father's eyes, on the other hand, were flashing in anger. "What a monstrous thing to do!"
I sat back and reflected on that person in front of me. For the second time that day, I wondered who he was and what he'd done with my real father.
Carter said, "I'm not sure whether to talk to her about this or not. If you decide to, you might want to verify the details with Aunt Velma. Otherwise it's third-hand at best."
Lettie stood and the rest of us followed suit. She extended her hand to Carter. "Thank you, dear boy." He shook and smiled down at her. "I will consider what you said. My primary concern was with Geneva and whether she might be unearthing a mare's nest. But now I wonder if this isn't the right thing to do, after all. Long-held secrets do tend to come to light in unlooked-for ways. Perhaps hers is the wisest course."
Carter said, "If there's anyone I've ever known in my life who is absolutely sure about what she's doing, it would be Geneva."
My father smiled. "I think you're quite right in that regard, my boy."
. . .
It was almost noon by the time I was able to get to the two captains. They both sat in chairs while Robert and I sat on the sofa.
"Is this the first time you've been here?" I asked.
They both nodded. Captain Morris looked around and frowned. "I don't understand why Herb Caen calls it The Lipstick."
Robert and I both laughed. I said, "I think it has more to do with the occupants than the shape."
The two captains laughed a little nervously, or so it seemed to me. Captain Morris leaned in and got down to business. "We really need to take the Lumberjack down to the Lockheed plant in Burbank for an overhaul. I don't want to fly the bird over the Pacific without doing that first. The overhaul will take about two months."
I nodded. "OK." I looked over at Robert. "What else is available
?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. The other two are booked solid for months."
"Can we lease a plane?" I asked.
Captain Morris said, "There's a Connie for sale. It's an L-749."
I looked at Robert. "Why do you need to see me about this?"
Captain Morris answered, "The F.B.I. is selling it. It was Hoover's private plane. They just moved him to a Super Connie."
I rolled my eyes. "OK. Have you seen it?"
Both pilots nodded. Captain Morris said, "It's not as nice as the Lumberjack." He smiled as he added, "But there is a bedroom."
I shuddered. "We'll have to get all new bedding and a new mattress."
Everyone else laughed. Looking at Captain Morris, I asked, "Do I sound like Howard Hughes?" That's who we'd bought the Lumberjack from after he'd threatened to sue us for ruining his plane when we'd leased it.
The captain shook his head. "No. He wouldn't ever talk to me. Everything came through someone else."
I looked over at Robert. "Let me know if I ever do that."
He smiled. "Sure thing, Nick."
"How long will it take for us to get the plane?" I asked.
Captain Morris replied, "It's down at Los Angeles International. We can be ready to leave for Hong Kong on Monday."
I nodded and thought for a moment. "I have to talk to Carter since half of it is his."
Captain Obregon looked surprised when I said that.
I asked, "What does Christine think?" She was Captain Morris's wife and our chief stewardess.
"She saw it and she likes it."
"OK." I stood up and everyone else did the same. "Now let's see what Carter thinks. I don't think it'll be a problem but can you wait a few more minutes?"
The two captains nodded.
. . .
I walked into Carter's office. He was on the phone so I closed the door and sat down on the sofa.
"Yes, Chief. I won't be able to make it, but I can send Burgess and Jessup."—they were two recent hires working on arson investigations—"They're both good investigators and they'll be able to do the job, no problem." He paused, looked at me, and winked. "Probably a month, maybe sooner. But I've been training them both and they'll be able to find the cause and the source. Probably won't take even a day." He paused again and looked out the window. "Fine. I'll have them meet you at the City Hall tomorrow at 10 a.m." He waited. "Thank you, Chief." With that, he hung up.
"Where?" I asked.
"Grass Valley. In the foothills north of Sacramento."
"He didn't like the fact that you're not available?"
Carter stood and stretched. He walked over and sat down next to me on the sofa. "It's nice to be popular. I guess." He leaned over and nuzzled my neck for a long moment.
"I need to talk to you about something."
He murmured. "What?"
"The Lumberjack needs an overhaul."
He bit my ear. "That right?"
"Uh, huh." I was having trouble remembering why I was in his office.
Carter kissed my cheek. "And?"
"And the captains want us to buy a fourth plane."
Carter put his left arm around my neck and pulled me in close. "What about the other two?" He began to kiss me deeply.
After a minute or so, I replied, "They're booked solid."
Carter kissed my forehead. "Robert's a real whiz, ain't he?"
I laughed. "Yeah." I kissed his neck a couple of times. That was something he liked.
"So what's the plane?" He tilted his head back.
"It's a smaller Connie." I kissed just above his Adam's apple and slowly lifted my right hand up with the intention to finally get him in his ticklish spot.
"Smaller?" He grabbed my right hand and held it tightly, not letting me move it.
"Yeah." I kissed under his jaw.
"Does it have a bedroom?" He shoved my arm back and then pushed me down on the sofa.
"Yeah. But it's kinda weird." I squirmed a little but couldn't move much.
"How so?" He kissed my forehead.
"The Bureau is selling it." I tried to reach for that spot under his Adam's apple with my lips.
"That so?" He sat up and, using his free hand, began to pull on my tie.
"Hoover's getting a Super Connie." I tried to get my left hand out from under my torso but he wouldn't let me move.
He looked down at me. "Yuck."
I nodded.
"We have the cash?" He managed to get my tie off and started to unbutton my shirt. He got the first two buttons undone.
"There was some stock split in January. The guy up at Bank of America moved some of our position into cash." I decided to hold still and see if I could surprise him when he wasn't expecting it. "Or so I heard."
"Yeah. AT&T. It was all over the papers." He began to nuzzle my chest.
"I guess it's a good thing I don't read the papers." I managed to get my left hand free. I could feel the pins and needles starting.
"Uh huh." He grabbed my left hand and folded it back under.
"So, waddaya ya think?" I tried to pull up.
"Kinda weird, like you said. But, sold." He pushed me back down. Using his teeth, he unbuttoned the third button on my shirt.
"I need to tell the captains. They're waiting." I held still.
"Let 'em wait." He unbuttoned the fourth button.
"That's not very polite." I pulled my head up so I could see what he was doing.
Looking me in the eyes, he said, "I'll tell you what's not polite, son." He then proceeded to do just that and demonstrate the same for the next fifteen minutes.
Chapter 11
Offices of Consolidated Security, Inc.
Wednesday, February 9, 1955
A quarter until 4 in the afternoon
"We were able to verify most everything that's public." That was Walter. He was sitting in a chair. Carter and I were on the sofa along with Sam. Frankie, Maria, and Mike were sitting in the other four chairs.
"The principals have all passed away." That was Maria.
Walter nodded. "But we were able to track down two of the other women who were held captive. One of them lives outside of Phoenix. The other lives in Oakland."
I nodded. "How did you find them?"
Walter looked over at Maria like a proud parent looking at a child who just won the spelling bee. Maria smiled, blushed slightly, and replied, "Oh, you know." She shrugged and waved her right hand dismissively. "Just made a couple of calls."
Mike looked at me. "You have no idea what those two can do together. I've never seen anything like it."
I smiled. "Thanks, you two. Good work."
Carter added, "Great work."
They both blushed. Walter more than Maria.
I asked, "So, can you bring us up to speed with what happened after Geneva escaped?"
Walter shifted in his seat. "Yes. When Mr. Coughlin was taken to the hospital—"
Maria added, "He was the john."
Walter nodded. "Yes. When he was taken to the hospital, the police were notified by the doctor who treated him. The papers were asked to only report the death without the specifics in order to give the Los Angeles police time to investigate more fully. Remarkably for the time, they did. From what we were able to find out, no one made any attempt to find Geneva. By the time the whole story came out, the newspapers dropped the story of Coughlin's death and ran with the story of prostitution—"
Maria said, "That the girls were all Negroes made for a more sensational story."
Walter nodded vigorously. "Some of the girls were paid for interviews. That prompted a whole new round of investigations. None of it amounted to much since Mr. Parker was found murdered before he could be brought to trial. Two of the hotel staff were charged and convicted for their roles in facilitating prostitution and kidnapping. They both served five years each at San Quentin. One of them died in 1937. The other one died in 1950. The police detective who did all the leg work died in 1947."
I asked, "So, G
eneva was never charged with murder or manslaughter?"
Walter shook his head. "From what we could find out, the Los Angeles police didn't know her name. And we never found a Jane Doe indictment from that time. The police had a basic description but that was never shared with the papers. I get the impression that there was some consensus that her whereabouts shouldn't be traced."
Maria added, "That might have come from the District Attorney, himself."
Walter nodded. "Or the Chief of Police. We don't think a detective would have had the authority to make that kind of decision."
Mike stood and walked over to the window.
Frankie said, "I know this isn't a democracy, but I vote that we leave this as it is."
Mike didn't say anything.
I asked Walter, "How do we know that your investigations haven't opened the case back up?"
He looked at me like a serious owl. "You haven't read the wide-ranging series of exposes on the decadent 1920s as published in The American Freedom Magazine?" He turned to Maria.
With the kind of voice used by women on radio commercials, she said, "Our stories will focus on the routine ways in which our brave police officers, in the line of duty, encountered the constant stream of decadence, depravity, immorality, and corruption that was rampant in our larger American cities during Prohibition. Any photographs you are able to provide will be duly credited and returned promptly."
Everyone laughed.
I asked, "Are we gonna have to print an actual copy of this magazine?"
Walter nodded. "Mr. Robertson approved that. We hired a copywriter, an editor, and a layout designer to pull one together. They're making up all the other feature stories and articles. They're even putting in a few ads to make it look real. We'll make up a hundred of them and send proofs to our contacts."
I shook my head in wonder as Carter said, "That's impressive."
Walter turned and looked at his partner in crime. "Maria came up with the whole thing." He leaned over and said to Frankie, "I'd be very careful, if I were you, Mr. Vasco."
He kissed his wife on the cheek. "You're tellin' me!"
Everyone laughed again.
Mike turned around. His face was grim but not scary. He said, "OK. This time we don't say anything. Anyone have any complaints about that?"
No one replied except for Sam. "I'm no cop, Mike, but I think this is what the phrase, 'In the interest of justice,' is all about."
The Sodden Sailor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 11) Page 10