The Timid Traitor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 10)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "Why would he do that?" I asked.

  "He hates you. I think he'd kill you if he could get away with it."

  I rolled my eyes. "I know Eddie doesn't like me, but he's no fool. All he cares about is the bottom line at Metro. I just improved that by taking a piece of junk off his hands."

  "He's a little crazy." Reynolds finally took his handkerchief out of his pocket and began to wipe his face. He was sweating so profusely that his white shirt under his coat was starting to get wet.

  "I still don't understand what you want from me."

  "I want you to hire me. I need a job. I have lots of dirt on Eddie and on Metro. I've been carrying it home, piece by piece, over the years. Then I sell it, you see." He looked up at me as if he was describing some really smart thing he'd been doing, expecting me to agree.

  I shook my head. "Why the hell would I hire you?"

  "I'm in the life. I know people. I know who is and who isn't." He turned to Carter and said, "Errol Flynn isn't. He's just friendly."

  I tried to keep my expression neutral, but that surprised me. I wondered how Reynolds knew to say that specific thing to my husband at that moment.

  Carter, for his part, just laughed and replied, "I don't give a rat's ass about Errol Flynn. You still haven't told Nick why he shouldn't hand you over to the cops."

  Reynolds wiped his face again. "I know lots of things. Lots." He looked over at Sam and said, "You're harboring a communist."

  Sam grinned in a somewhat maniacal way. "No doubt. That the best you got?"

  "Your boyfriend is sleeping with all sorts of movie stars when they come to town."

  Sam stood stock still and glared at Reynolds with an intensity I'd never seen on his face before.

  I looked down at Reynolds and had a sudden epiphany. As he dropped these little bombshells, he wasn't grinning. He didn't look satisfied. He looked terrified. He was sweating more profusely than ever.

  "What about me?" I asked.

  "Your stepmother's maid is a murderess."

  I nodded. "I knew that." I knew no such thing. "How do you know?"

  Reynolds wiped his face again. "I know things. I have connections." He looked up at me and said, "The F.B.I. is investigating you."

  I smiled. "For what now?"

  "Aiding a war criminal."

  "Where are you getting your dope?"

  Reynolds looked down at the floor. The room filled with the smell of urine.

  Sam said, "Shit." He banged open the door, grabbed some towels from a large rack nearby, and threw them at Reynolds. "Clean yourself up."

  Reynolds began to pat down his wet gray trousers as he looked up. His eyes were full of tears. "You gotta help me, Mr. Williams."

  I had a weird sort of pity for the man. I couldn't square his inside knowledge with the terror in his eyes. Suddenly, I had a thought. "Did the Bureau put you up to this?"

  Reynolds burst into tears. As he did, Annie came into the office. "What is this?"

  Sam pulled her outside and began to talk to her while Reynolds sobbed and gasped. Finally, he was able to say, "Yes." He took a deep breath. "Both me and Peter."

  Carter leaned down, put his hand on the man's shoulder, and, using his southern charm, asked, "Tell us about it, Harvey."

  After several loud trumpet blasts into his handkerchief, Reynolds took a deep breath, sighed, and began to talk. "Peter and I had a little business where we would make movies and send them around the country." He looked up at me. "You know. The kind that you show at home to your friends."

  I nodded. "Blue movies with men in them?"

  "Sure. We have a friend who hires guys down at Muscle Beach and films them doing tasteful poses." He blew his nose again. "Anyway, some postmaster in Nebraska opened one of our packages and then the F.B.I. showed up at my door and at Peter's. The special agent said that we could work for them as informants instead of being prosecuted."

  He looked at Carter with an imploring look on his face. "What could we do?"

  "How does that lead to here?" I asked.

  "Well, the special agent gave me this blue movie of Crawford's. He told me to call up Crawford and ask for money. Somehow he knew you would get involved. I don't know how."

  I shook my head. That was the flimsiest thing I'd ever heard, but it did explain why he was so scared. Sam walked back in the office at that moment, leaving Annie outside.

  "She needs to talk to you, Nick, before we go to the hospital."

  Reynolds looked out the window and said, "That's her. That's the communist." Looking up at Sam, he said, "They're after her. The F.B.I."

  Walking up to Reynolds, Sam pulled on the man's lapel and said, "Who told you about Ike?"

  Reynolds got that terrified look on his face again. "The special agent."

  "What agent?" asked Sam.

  I said, "Let him go, Sam."

  Sam nodded and let go of Reynolds' lapel. Looking up at me, he asked, "What do we do now?"

  I looked out at Annie, who was talking to one of the men in the kitchen. I looked back down at Reynolds.

  "We can't let him run loose."

  Carter said, "I'll take care of him. You two take care of her."

  I nodded. "Get him to Mike. I'd suggest that he sit down with Walter. The two of them might have a lot to talk about."

  Carter grinned and said, "Come on, Harvey. Let's see if we can get you out the back way."

  Reynolds stood up, looking both relieved and embarrassed at the same time. "Thanks, Mr. Jones."

  Sam said, "I'll take you both out. Be right back, Nick."

  I nodded as the three of them made a left out of the office.

  Annie, who was looking put out, walked into the office. "What is that smell? And who was that man?"

  "He's working for the F.B.I. and he says that they are after you for being a communist. Your husband told us the same thing."

  She looked away for a moment. Then she sighed. "Yes, that is what I wish to discuss with you. I think I must ask you a very important favor and I understand if you must refuse." She took out her handkerchief and wiped a tear from her left eye.

  "What's that?"

  "Can you smuggle me into Mexico in one of your planes?"

  I looked down at her. Before I could reply, she muttered something in French and walked out of the office. In a moment, she was back with a bottle of some fluid and another towel. She sprayed the ammonia-smelling liquid on the seat and briskly wiped it down with the towel. "I cannot stand that smell. It brings many bad memories."

  Once that was taken care of, I asked, "Why do you want to go to Mexico?"

  "Because I think that I will be deported."

  I shrugged. "Why does that matter?"

  "If I leave before they deport me, then it will be much easier to return to France."

  "But they have to give you a hearing or something like that. They can't just kick you out of the country."

  She shook her head. "I have heard of much worse. I am still an alien. And the news of my work with the party has finally caught up with me. When I was interviewed for a visa in Paris, I lied and said I had no affiliation with any party."

  "Who told you the F.B.I. is after you?"

  "Monsieur Veladier. He has been interviewed as have many of my colleagues here at the store. He is the one who suggested I go to Mexico and then leave for France from there."

  Right then, Sam walked back into the office. As he did so, he announced, "They're taking a cab to the office."

  I nodded and offered my arm to Annie. "Shall we?"

  She sighed. "Yes."

  We quickly made our way through the store and over to the garage. Once we were in the Roadmaster and heading to the hospital, Annie asked me, "Will you be able to help me, Nick?"

  I nodded. "I'll help you as much as I can. We can easily get you into Mexico, and I'll give you some cash."

  "Oh, no. I have all—"

  "You never know what might happen. I can give you ten thousand. That should help but not too muc
h to look suspicious if something were to happen."

  "Well, I cannot refuse such a generous offer. Thank you, Nick."

  . . .

  We found the same nurse on duty at the desk when we arrived. She frowned at me but not at Sam. I said, "This is"—I still couldn't pronounce the man's name—"the patient's wife."

  The nurse stood and said, "Follow me, please."

  Annie said, "Please, can Mr. Halversen accompany me? I haven't seen my husband in many years. It may be a shock."

  The nurse looked at Sam, who must have grinned or something, because she smiled back and said, "OK. But don't tell Dr. Watts. I'm still in trouble for what happened the last time you were here."

  While they walked down the hall, I looked for a payphone. There was a booth on the far side of the elevator. I slid in, closed the door, and dropped a dime.

  "Consolidated Security." It was Marnie.

  "Hi, doll."

  "Oh! Yes. Thank you for returning my call. Were you able to find my order?"

  "What's going on?"

  Lowering her voice, Marnie said, "Some of Beau's friends stopped by our house last night."

  That stumped for a minute.

  After a long pause, she added, "You know. Mr. Beauregard?"

  It clicked. Andy Anderson's first name was Beauregard. He'd once been an F.B.I. agent. "Is the Bureau there?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, that's right."

  "Is Carter there?"

  "No, he stepped out. But I'm sure he'll be right back."

  I heard a voice on the other end of the line say something.

  "I'm sorry, sir. I need to get off the line. But I'll call you back when I can ask you more questions. If that would be convenient."

  "Thanks, doll."

  I hung up the phone. Sitting there for a moment, I tried to decide what to do first. After a moment, I dropped another dime and made a new call.

  "Wilcox Ross." I recognized the voice, but I didn't know the kid's name. He was their new receptionist.

  "Hi, this is Nick Williams. I need to talk to Kenneth right now."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Williams. He's in a meeting."

  "Go in there. Tell him I'm on the line. I need to talk to him right now."

  "Well, sir, I'm not sure I can do that."

  I sighed. I'd never said the thing I hated to hear, but that was the time for it. "Do you know who I am, kid?"

  "Sure."

  "Go get Kenneth and get him on the phone. Right. Now."

  There was a huff on the line and then I heard a click as he put me on hold.

  After a minute, Kenneth said, "What's up?"

  "F.B.I. at our office."

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm at Saint Francis hospital."

  "Do you know why they're there?"

  "Not sure but I know they found a new stooge. It has to do with my trip to L.A."

  "What trip?"

  I briefly explained why I'd been down there and what I'd found. And the fact that the movie was still intact and in the safe at the office.

  "OK. Here's what you do. Go into the office and let the chips—"

  "Nope. Not gonna happen. What else you got for me?"

  "You could leave the country."

  "That's what I'm thinking."

  "And if they haven't served you with anything, it isn't flight. Officially, you don't know what they're up to."

  "Right."

  "Mexico?"

  "That's what I'm thinking."

  "Where?"

  "Ensenada."

  "Good. Get out as fast as you can. And stay in touch."

  I hung up and fished my trousers for another dime. Dropping it in, I called the office again, hoping Robert would answer.

  "Consolidated Security." It was Robert.

  "Don't say anything. I need to leave for Ensenada as soon as we can. If there's a plane available, tell me something about a color."

  "There's a red one. That's the one that's been around the longest."

  "Good. I don't know how many people there will be. Are the agents still in the office?"

  "I believe so."

  "That's a yes?"

  "Correct."

  "Once you get the plane set up, tell Mike what we're doing. Sam might go with us but don't know for sure. Otherwise, he'll contact Mike. I also want O'Reilly to move the ship down there."

  "Do you have that number, sir?"

  "Yes. Any reason he couldn't?"

  "Not that I've heard."

  "One other thing. Are they searching the files?"

  "I believe so."

  "Have they opened the safe yet?"

  "I'm not sure that will be possible."

  I grinned. Marnie must have pulled one of her tricks to hide it.

  "Thanks, Robert. Be sure to tell Henry that we'll be fine. And we'll be back as soon as we can."

  "Very good, sir. I'll be sure to tell him. Thank you for calling."

  Chapter 15

  1198 Sacramento

  Wednesday, January 19, 1955

  Half past 3 in the afternoon

  Gustav and I were carrying two valises down the stairs when the doorbell rang. We'd packed a couple of days worth of clothes for Carter and myself. Whatever else we needed we could buy there.

  While he went to answer the door, I carried the valises down to the garage to put them in the trunk of Carter's Mercury. I figured we could use that to get to the airport since my Roadmaster was at the hospital where we'd left it. In case we were being tailed, we'd taken a cab that we'd picked up on Fulton after sneaking out of the hospital.

  When I got back upstairs, I found Marnie waiting in the kitchen. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  "I brought that film over."

  "How'd you keep them from finding the safe?"

  "I didn't. When they asked me to open it, I told them it was from the previous tenant and that we didn't have the combination."

  "They bought that?"

  "Yeah."

  "Did they give you any papers?"

  "No."

  "Not even a search warrant?"

  "No."

  "What'd they take?"

  "Nothing. They just went through everything. All your desk drawers that is." She smiled. "All the files from the cabinets were on a truck on their way over to the new building. Robert and I had just finished handing them off to the movers when the agents arrived."

  "What'd they say about that?"

  "Nothing, other than to warn me about obstructing an investigation."

  "Of what?"

  "They never said."

  "And you're sure these were F.B.I. agents?"

  "Oh, sure. Andy even knew one of them."

  I nodded. Andy Anderson was a former agent with the Bureau and would have been able to vouch for them. I wondered what he thought about the search.

  "Where was Mike?"

  "He was out on a case."

  "Did Andy or anyone else squawk about them not having a warrant?"

  "Oh sure and plenty. But the agents kept warning everyone about obstructing an investigation."

  "Do you know where Carter is?"

  "I'm right here, Nick."

  I looked up. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there in the door, but I was never so happy to see him as I was at that moment. He grinned at me and I smiled in reply.

  "So, I heard you packed my bag already. Where we off to?"

  "Ensenada. What happened after you left the store?"

  "Once I saw the F.B.I. was in the office, I hightailed it out of there and took Harvey back to his hotel and got him cleaned up. He's on his way to the airport to grab a flight to Las Vegas. He has an uncle there that he can stay with. Peter is going to drive up there and meet him."

  I nodded. "OK." I turned to Marnie. "Can you go across the street and tell them what's happening?"

  She nodded. "Sure thing, Nick."

  Carter piped up. "What about what Harvey said?"

  I looked up at my husband. "Right."
He winked at me. He was trying to help me relax. And it was working. I took a deep breath and turned back to Marnie. "Tell your mother that the F.B.I. is claiming her maid murdered someone."

  Marnie's eyes got wide. "But—"

  "I know."

  Carter added, "And tell my mother that we'll be in touch as soon as we can."

  Marnie nodded. "When'll you be back?"

  I shrugged. "Dunno. Soon, I hope. The steak options are limited for Carter down in Ensenada."

  That got a laugh out of both of them, which helped me relax a little bit more.

  . . .

  In the end, Sam came with us. He asked me if he could because he didn't want to deal with Ike at home. Not after what Harvey had said. Besides, Annie needed the company. Her long-delayed reunion with her husband hadn't gone well.

  Once we were in the air on the Lumberjack, I walked over to Christine and asked, "Do you have any champagne?"

  She smiled. "I just happen to have a couple of bottles left over from the last trip we did from L.A. to New York and back. It was for some M-G-M executives, as a matter of fact."

  "Was Eddie Mannix with them?"

  Christine raised an eyebrow. "He was. Unfortunately."

  "I guess he had no idea who owned the plane."

  She shook her head. "If he did, he didn't say anything. Not that he didn't have a lot of things to say otherwise. I'm no prude, but that man will swear at anything."

  I smiled. "Yeah. I've been on the receiving end of that more times that I care to remember." I wanted to get off the subject of Mannix and fast, so I asked, "How are you and John doing?"

  "Always good, Nick. I'm the luckiest girl in the world. He's just about the best man there is." She looked up. "Present company excepted."

  Carter put a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks. I don't know how to say this politely, Christine, but we all need booze."

  Christine laughed. "I'll be right over with the bubbly."

  Carter said, "We'll take ours in the back," as he pushed me towards the bedroom in the rear of the ship.

  . . .

  "I don't want to scare you, Nick, but have you thought this through? We could still land in L.A. or San Diego."

  I nodded. We were sitting on the edge of the bed, both looking out the windows at the passing coastline below. "Kenneth said it isn't flight if they haven't served us with anything. They didn't have a warrant for the search. And everyone kept saying so but they searched anyway."