The Timid Traitor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 10)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  Sam said to me, "He's thanking you for saving his life."

  I nodded and replied, "Tell him..." I stopped and looked up at Carter. "Tell him what?"

  Before Carter could reply, Razzie began to speak again. Sam smiled briefly and nodded. Then he said, "Remember, he can understand us. He wants to know where Annie is?"

  Razzie said, "Annie?" That was followed by a few sharp words.

  "He wonders why we're using that name."

  I looked down at the man, who looked very gray. "Because she hired us to find you."—he started at that—"We're private detectives. She saw you twice in Union Square and wanted us to find you."

  He said something that even I knew meant, "Why?"

  "Because she wanted to kill you, that's why."

  He frowned and stared at me as if he was confused by what I'd said. Normally, I would have expected a denial or outrage. Instead, he seemed confused. I wondered about that.

  After a moment, he sighed, leaned back, and closed his eyes. After another couple of moments, a string of words came out of his mouth.

  "He doesn't blame her. That's why he hasn't been in touch with her even though he knows that she works at City of Paris."

  At the mention of the store, Razzie opened his eyes and made a dismissive noise and waved his hand. He rattled off another string of words that went on for a while.

  Sam sighed and shifted as the man went on. Once he was done, Sam said, "He wants you to know that she is a communist and that it's ridiculous that she works in a department store. And it's ridiculous how she dresses now." Sam's cheeks turned red as he spoke.

  Razzie banged his fist on the bed and said the same word three times.

  "What?" I asked Sam.

  "I didn't tell you everything he said."

  Razzie said, "Non!" followed by several words.

  "He said that he understands why she's angry but that she was just as bad." Sam's voice got cold and measured. "He said that he went to Vichy to protect her. That's why she was never rounded up with the other communists." He huffed loudly. "Because he made sure her name never showed up on any of the lists."

  Razzie began to shout at Sam who did the same thing in turn. Carter grabbed Sam and pulled him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

  I pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down so that I wasn't standing over the man. I wondered if his story was true. Picking up the phone, I waited for the operator to answer. Once she came on the line, I said, "Can you page Dr. Watts and tell him Mr. Williams is here and in room 713."

  "Certainly, Mr. Williams."

  I put the receiver back on its cradle and said, "I know you can't tell me, but I wanna know why you came to San Francisco."

  Razzie turned his head and looked at me. Very slowly he said, "Annie."

  I nodded.

  He then said a word that I thought I understood.

  "Trouble?" I asked.

  He nodded vigorously.

  Right then, the door opened and Dr. Watts walked in. He indignantly asked, "Why didn't you let me know that you were here? That nurse had no right to let you in here without my being present."

  I stood up and said, "I'm paying the bills. But I guess you're right." I looked around the corner and could see Sam and Carter hovering in the doorway.

  "Is there anything we can do?" I asked.

  "Can you produce the man's wife?"

  I shook my head. "No. I think that would make things worse rather than better. And we've explained to him why."

  Sam walked around the doctor and over to the side of the bed. He said a few words in French. Razzie responded by laughing hoarsely and saying a sentence or two. Sam turned around and said to me, "He says you're right. It's better if Annie doesn't come here."

  "Ask him what the trouble is."

  Sam turned and listened as Razzie spoke for a couple of minutes. We all stood and watched as Sam nodded. He asked Razzie a couple of questions and then said, "Got it. I'll tell you in the car."

  The doctor asked, "What kind of trouble?"

  Razzie said something sharp. Before I could reply, Sam said, "It's nothing medical. It's personal."

  Dr. Watts looked at his patient and then back at me. He nodded and said, "Fine. We've already found a convalescent facility for the patient and will be moving him on Friday."

  "Thanks, Doctor. I'll have my secretary, Marnie LeBeau, get in touch with you about what we need to do on our end."

  He nodded tightly. "Fine. Now, you all need to leave. The patient needs some rest."

  Before we could leave, Razzie said a long string of words. Sam laughed and replied, "Razzie." This made the man laugh. As he did, he began to cough.

  The doctor said, "Leave now. And get that nurse in here, if you would."

  We duly filed out and found the nurse at her desk. Sam passed on the message and delivered a parting kiss while Carter and I stood by the elevator and waited for the next car to arrive.

  Chapter 13

  Mildred's Diner

  At the corner of Ellis and Van Ness

  Tuesday, January 18, 1955

  A quarter before noon

  "Well, look what the cat dragged in!" That was Mildred's usual call whenever we walked into her diner. She was a thin woman with a big voice and hair that always changed colors. We hadn't seen her in a couple of months.

  As we moved back to our usual table by the kitchen with Sam in tow, Mildred called out, "Be right with y'all."

  Carter waved in reply as we sat down. Sam looked around. "So this is the famous Mildred's?"

  I smiled. "Yep. It ain't fancy, but it's good."

  Carter punched Sam in the arm. "It's rib-stickin' food."

  For the first time since I'd known him, Sam frowned as if he didn't understand something. I chuckled as a look of curiosity crossed his face. His American accent faded as he asked, "Why do I want food to stick to my ribs?"

  Carter poked Sam in the side and laughed. "Cause you need fattenin' up, son."

  "Sometimes I hear these things and wonder if you just make them up to confuse me."

  I shook my head. "It's the real deal. You must think the same thing about that beatnik talk that Ike is throwing around these days."

  Sam smiled. "I dig his hep-cat ways, Daddy-o." He sounded just like Ike had. Carter and I both burst out laughing.

  Mildred walked up right then with a pot of coffee in one hand. "What's so funny?"

  "Sam was just giving us a lesson in North Beach beatnik talk."

  She began to pour coffee for Carter and then me. "For the life of me, I can't understand a thing those kids say. Course, most of 'em don't make their way over here. Van Ness is too square for 'em." She grinned as she said that. Looking at Sam, she asked, "You want somethin' besides coffee, hon?"

  "No, I'll have coffee, please."

  I asked, "Have you never been to a diner before?" I reached across and turned his coffee cup over. "You gotta let your waitress know if you want coffee. That's the signal, see?"

  "Learn somethin' new every day." Now Sam sounded just like Mildred.

  We all laughed as she poured him a cup. "You an actor or somethin' like that, hon?"

  "No, ma'am. I'm a real-life private dick."

  Mildred didn't laugh that time. "Keep talkin' like that around me and you're liable to get a pot of coffee in your lap."

  Sam sat up and said in his normal American voice. "Sorry about that. It's a bad habit of mine."

  Ignoring him, she asked Carter, "Y'all ready to order?"

  . . .

  After we put in our orders, Mildred walked over to the kitchen and called them out to George, her cook. She made her way to the front of the diner and began to pass coffee around to the other diners.

  Sam took a sip of his and said, "Sorry about that."

  "People from the South don't like it when anyone else tries to mimic our accent," said Carter with a slight edge to his voice. "Sounds like you're making fun of us. As if we're all hicks and ignorant."

>   Sam nodded. "I won't do it again. Do you think she'll let me come back?"

  I smiled. "Just charm her like you did that nurse, and you'll be just fine."

  "By the way, is she the one with the husband with the really big, you know..."

  I leaned in and whispered, "Yes. Ex-husband from what I heard. And don't mention Shorty, whatever you do. We've never said anything about that day since we got back from Galveston. And I think she likes it that way."

  Sam glanced over at Mildred, who was keeping her eye on us, and nodded. He smiled that way he did and she winked at him. All was forgiven.

  . . .

  Once we had our food, I asked, "What did Razzie tell you?"

  Sam swallowed, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and said, "I'm not sure I believe him, but he claimed that when he got his visa in Paris at the embassy, he was interviewed by someone from the State Department about Annie's involvement with the French Communist Party."

  Carter said, "I still don't understand how he ever got a visa in the first place. I thought we didn't let war criminals come into the country."

  Sam replied, "Depends on who it is and what they did. Razzie worked for Pétain, but he wasn't in charge of anything. He was just a bureaucrat."

  I frowned. "Annie said that he became a confidante or something like that."

  Sam rolled his eyes. "She told me the same thing, but the more I asked, the more I realized he was just a glorified bureaucrat."

  "OK. So the State Department is worried that Annie is a communist. Is she?" I looked Sam.

  He shrugged. "Not really. We talked a little about it, She was doing the fashionable thing like we all did back in those days. She was appointed to a local Party office in the early 30s. She quit the party after the Moscow show trials."

  "Show trials?"

  "Stalin had a bunch of his old Bolshevik buddies, and some of the higher-ups in the Army and Navy charged with trumped-up crimes. They would be brought into a courtroom. The prosecutor would read the charge, asked them to respond, and then the judge would find them guilty. Then they would be taken out and shot. It was Stalin being paranoid. The various communist parties around the world lost a lot of members. Of course, there were just as many people who bought the party line and said the trials were justified."

  "When did that happen?" asked Carter.

  "It first started in late '35. She left the party in 1936. The trials continued through '38."

  I nodded and took a bite of my hamburger sandwich. "Well, the first thing we can do is ask Andy to find out if the F.B.I. is watching her."

  Carter said, "You mean, you're gonna ask Mike to ask Andy."

  "Sure." I nodded and grinned. "I'll ask Mike." Turning to Sam, I said, "Is he gonna be back in the office today?"

  "That's what he told me."

  "OK. So, we fill him in as soon as we can. Meanwhile, I have another question for you, Sam."

  "What?"

  "Are you in love with Annie?"

  He looked across the diner and thought for a long moment. Turning back to me, he said, "Sure. In the same way you said you love me. I admire her. She reminds me a lot of Anna. I like women who know their own minds. And she's smart. But there's nothing romantic about it."

  I nodded and looked over at Carter who winked at me. I smiled in reply.

  Turning back to Sam, I asked, "What do you think about Razzie, now that you've met him?"

  Pushing his plate back, Sam leaned back and stretched his thick chest and arms. Taking a sip of coffee, he replied, "He's a bureaucrat. They're all the same, no matter where you go." He thought for a long moment. "He's still in love with her. And I'm surprised that heart attack and stroke didn't kill him." Sam looked directly at me. "He's been through hell. But who did it? Was it the Gestapo?"

  I shrugged. "Why not ask him?"

  "Does it matter?" asked Carter.

  Sam took another sip of his coffee. "It might matter to Annie. I don't think she knows what he's been through."

  Remembering the scar on her head, I added, "And he doesn't know what she's been through, either."

  Sam slowly nodded. Whether it was a trick of the light or something else, he suddenly looked very old.

  . . .

  Mike walked into my office around 4 that afternoon. Standing in the doorway with his arms folded, he stared at me with his electric blue eyes. "What trouble have you gotten into while I was down in Dogpatch?"

  I laughed. "Not too much. Have a seat."

  He did just that and pulled out one of his cigars. As he unwrapped it, Robert got up from his desk and walked over to open one of the windows.

  "Smells that bad?" Mike asked as he bit off one end and spit it out.

  Robert said, "Marnie doesn't like it."

  She'd left early but Mike didn't know that. Who was I to blow the kid's cover? Truth was, he didn't like it. And he'd made it clear to me that I would have to tell Mike not to smoke cigars in the new building. I had put that off since I wasn't sure I was going to ever bring it up.

  Once Mike was settled in and puffing away, I brought him up to speed on Razzie and Annie.

  He nodded and asked, "So you want Andy to find out about whether she's on a list with the Bureau?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. If she is, then we should warn her."

  Mike shook his head. "Nope. That's obstruction of justice."

  "Thinking like a cop, again."

  He grinned at me and said, "Yep. Always will." He leaned in and said, "Seriously, Nick. How is this any of our business?"

  I sighed. "I know. This is one of those sloppy cases where we're up to our knees in something that we're not even getting paid for."

  Mike laughed. "That's a first."

  "What?"

  "You being concerned about us getting paid. That's never been on your mind before now."

  "I know. And it isn't now. I'm just using that as an example. What are we doing here, really?"

  Mike shrugged. "We're following your hunch. The reason you wanted to find this Razzie guy in the first place was to make sure Annie didn't kill him. From what you're saying, it sounds like Sam got that handled by convincing her not to do it. So, he's safe. Not only is he safe but he's got you paying his bills. So, he's in like Flynn."

  "What about her?"

  "Well, if the Bureau is looking at her background, we need to let their investigation move at its own pace. We could find out, sure, but you can't go telling her. And I'll make sure Sam knows the same thing. That puts us all at risk."

  I sighed. "This feels like a pinball game."

  Mike drew in on his cigar and looked at me for a long moment. He exhaled the blue smoke and grinned. "What aren't you telling me?"

  "I'm not—" Suddenly it came to me. Right out of the blue. "There's something that I forgot to do in that case down south."

  "The one about the movie?"

  I nodded. "Yeah."

  Mike shook his head. "I don't get the connection."

  "There ain't one, as far as I know. But it's been bothering me ever since we took off from Burbank. I keep trying to remember what it was that I did or didn't do."

  "OK. Let's start at the beginning. You tell me the story. Maybe you'll remember."

  I nodded and then said, "Robert?"

  "Yes, Nick?"

  "Ready to go home?"

  "Uh, well—"

  "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

  "Sure."

  "Fine. Go home. We'll see you in the morning."

  I could hear him moving things around. As he cleared his desk, I watched Mike smoke his cigar. Finally, Robert closed one last drawer and stood up. With his hat in his hand, he walked around the partition. "Uh, Nick?"

  I looked up. "Yeah?"

  "Is there some big secret about what Ben and Carlo came to town for?"

  I smiled. "There sure is. Have a good night, kid."

  He shrugged. He wasn't happy with my answer. I just didn't think it was my business to tell anyone other than Mike. It was too juicy, too salaciou
s, and too tempting.

  Once Robert was gone, Mike said, "You're gonna have to make it up to him somehow."

  "I know. But, in the meantime, let me start at the beginning. On Thursday, I got a call from Ben around 11 or so. He and Martinelli were in town. They wanted to have lunch. I met them at the Mark Hopkins. Billy Haines was with them. They convinced me to fly down to L.A. that afternoon. We drove to her house. She'd been cleaning and wasn't happy to see us. We went out on the patio. She made it clear that we needed to ditch Ben and Martinelli, so Billy sent them out to the store. She then did her whole song and dance about how everything was coming together—" I stopped.

  "What?"

  "I just now realized what she was talking about. Ben told me on Friday night that she's marrying the head of Pepsi. That's what she meant about things finally working out. Or however she said it."

  "Got it. She's gonna marry a big tycoon. And then?"

  "And then they told me about a package that was for sale. Before we left on Thursday, when I was packing up, I stuffed ten grand in an envelope, just in case. All they wanted was five grand."

  "For what?"

  "For the movie. So, we set a time with the whoever to meet down in San Pedro on the waterfront at a dive bar. First, we went to Ventura to get Carter. Then we stopped by to see Ros and Freddie. Then we went to San Pedro. To a dive bar called Shanghai Red's. After we're there for maybe fifteen minutes, I get a phone call telling me to meet the whoever in the back alley. Carter and I—"

  "What about Carlo's friend?"

  "Right. It was four of us that went down there. Carter, Martinelli, Micky, and myself. Ben stayed home. Micky stayed at the bar keeping the owner occupied while the three of us went out around to the alley."

  I closed my eyes and pictured the events. "There were three light bulbs. Two on the right and one above Shanghai Red's back door on the left. As I walked down the alley, a man jumped out of a dark area on the right. Someone was with him—"

  Suddenly I remembered what I'd forgotten. I stood up and began to pace.

  "Someone was with him—"

  Right then, the door opened. It was Carter.