The Childish Churl (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 15) Read online

  The Childish Churl

  A Nick Williams Mystery

  Book 15

  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

  The Paradoxical Parent

  The Pitiful Player

  The Childish Churl

  The Rotten Rancher

  Nick & Carter Stories

  An Enchanted Beginning

  Golden Gate Love Stories

  The One He Waited For

  Their Own Hidden Island

  © 2017 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.

  Cover image licensed under copyright from nejron / 123RF Stock Photo

  To contact the author, visit nickwilliamspi.com.

  NW15-K-20171101

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  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgments

  Historical Notes

  More Information

  Childish

  ˈchī(-ə)l-dish

  1. Marked by or suggestive of immaturity and lack of poise

  Churl

  ˈchər(-ə)l

  1. A rude ill-bred person

  2. A stingy morose person

  Chapter 1

  Offices of Consolidated Security, Inc.

  600 Market Street, 19th Floor

  San Francisco, Cal.

  Tuesday, October 11, 1955

  A quarter before 9 in the morning

  I was sipping my cup of coffee and looking out at the slightly smoggy morning. I had my back to my desk and was looking at the Ferry Building in the distance. Out in the bay, a ferry was chugging away, belching black smoke as it headed towards Oakland.

  Just then I heard Marnie, the best secretary a guy could ever have, knock on the door. "Nick, got a sec?"

  I swiveled back around in my chair and smiled at her as she stood there gazing out the window.

  "Still a pretty amazing view, ain't it?" I asked.

  She nodded. "Yeah." She smoothed out her skirt and said, "A couple of the guys have been asking me about tomorrow. Are we gonna be open?"

  "What's tomorrow?"

  "October 12th. Columbus Day."

  I nodded. "Sure." I thought for a moment and then asked, "What'd we do last year?"

  "We was closed."

  "So we'll be closed this year. Simple enough."

  She scratched her chin. "Ain't quite that easy, Nick. You gotta big appointment tomorrow, remember?"

  While we'd been talking, I'd been holding my coffee cup. I put it down with a bang and said, "Damn it."

  She nodded. "So you need me to be here?"

  I reached back and scratched my head. "Maybe just in the morning. He's coming in at 10."

  "Will that Kenneth Wilcox be here?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. And Benjamin Ross." Those were my two lawyers. Their offices were down on the fifteenth floor. They shared a law practice and a bed.

  "Say, shouldn't he be taking the day off, too?"

  "Who?" I asked.

  "This what's his name. Higginbotham."

  "Makes sense. He's a government employee, after all."

  She crossed her arms. "What's it all about, anyways?"

  I sighed and picked up a pencil from my desk. "Seems like Mr. Higginbotham isn't particularly satisfied that I'm keeping up my end of the deal."

  "What deal?"

  "It was an agreement he forced on me back in March. He wanted me to hire William Fraser—"

  Marnie snorted. "That lasted, what? All of three days?"

  I smiled. "Something like that."

  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, Nick. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead."

  I shrugged. "There wasn't anything for him to do here. Letting him run down to Hollywood was the best thing for him."

  "Even though it got him killed?"

  I fiddled with the pencil for a moment. "Yeah."

  "Sorry, Nick."

  "That's fine. But that's not what Higginbotham is upset about. He's all upset up about the fact that I haven't been able to convince Joseph Abati to come work for us."

  Marnie shook her head. "I, for one, am glad of that. We don't have any business hiring the son of a mob boss. What would he do, anyway?"

  I grinned. "My thought was to put him with Sam and Antoine."

  Marnie nodded. "Makes sense. On the one hand you got an old pro with lots of contacts everywhere and, on the other, you got some serious muscle." She grinned. "Too bad he's in love with that Jake Robinson. Ooh la la. He's so tall, dark, and handsome."

  I laughed. "But he's no Alex LeBeau." That was Marnie's husband.

  She smiled, thought for a moment, and blushed. "No, no he's not."

  "You think that honeymoon of yours is gonna end anytime soon? You've been married over a year now and—"

  Marnie put both hands on her hips and said, "Look who's talkin'! You got your own never-ending honeymoon, Nick."

  I grinned up at her. "You're right about that, doll. You are certainly right about that."

  . . .

  I was going through the day's mail that Marnie had opened for me when there was a knock on my door. I looked up and saw Kenneth and Benjamin standing in the doorway. They were both trim and wearing nicely-tailored suits. I stood and said, "Come in, you two." I pointed to the sofa at the far end of the room. "Have a seat."

  They both sat, each taking one of the chairs. I walked over and sat on the sofa. "How are you both?"

  Kenneth nodded. "Fine. Marnie said you wanted to talk with us about tomorrow's meeting?"

  "Yeah. Why is Higginbotham coming over here on a paid holiday?"

  Kenneth shrugged. "Who knows? I think he's pretty steamed."


  Benjamin leaned in. "Remember, Nick, he's still got that request for extradition from the government of the United Kingdom sitting on his desk. Those things don't expire."

  I nodded. "Do you think we'll ever be able to go to England?"

  The two lawyers both shook their heads in silence.

  I shrugged. "Fine."

  Kenneth said, "When you go around causing international incidents, you can expect for people to be a little sore."

  I rolled my eyes. "We didn't do anything. That was all Ricky."

  Benjamin sighed. "You led a team of men into Red China and smuggled a woman and her son into Hong Kong. Even if that storage tank hadn't exploded, you'd still be in trouble with the British government. After all, she's the most famous of all the Chinese refugees to cross the border since the revolution ended."

  I crossed my arms. "But she never was really Chinese. Her mother was born in Hong Kong and her father was Irish. She was only in China because she was smuggled in after the Japs invaded Hong Kong." Usually I didn't let things like that get under my skin, but there was something bugging me and I couldn't put my finger on it.

  Benjamin put his hands together as if he was praying. "If you want to go to London and plead your case there, you go right ahead. Kenneth and I know this story backwards and forwards. You don't have to convince us."

  I ran my left hand through my hair and nodded. "You're right. So, Higginbotham could send Carter and me to England if we don't do what he wants?"

  "And don't forget Captain O'Reilly and John Murphy." O'Reilly was the captain of my yacht, The Flirtatious Captain, and Murphy was his first mate and lover. The gal in question was Dr. Mai O'Reilly, the captain's half-sister. The captain and Murphy had been the ones who'd asked for our help in getting her out.

  I sat back on the sofa and asked, "So how do we play this thing tomorrow?"

  Kenneth said, "You let me do all the talking. But be sure to have Sam Halversen here. It really is his story to tell, from everything you've said." Sam was one of our employees. He'd been trying to lure Joseph Abati into working for us.

  I nodded. "You're right. We'll meet in here. I asked Marnie to come in, as well."

  Benjamin said, "Good." He looked at Kenneth. "Anything else?"

  Before either could say anything, I asked, "How's Jake Robinson working out?"

  Kenneth smiled. "Good. He's smart as a whip. Seems to be happy to be back in the States." Looking over at Benjamin, Kenneth grinned. "I'd be happy to be anywhere with that boyfriend of his."

  Benjamin crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "You know you're never going to get a better deal than the one you have with me."

  Laughing, Kenneth put his hand on Benjamin's arm and said, "You're absolutely right." Looking over at me, he said, "Jake is doing good. I've got him on some federal work. He's got a lot of good contacts, too. Did you know he went to school with Jack Kennedy's younger brother?"

  I nodded. "Yeah." I looked at Benjamin. "Did you know that Kennedy, Robert that is, tried to go at it with Carter back in '53?"

  Benjamin grinned. "Really?"

  "Yeah. He came to interview us at a hotel in D.C. for that idiotic McCarthy committee. He was rude to us both, but no more than the usual. At one point, he was about to roll up his sleeves and try to give Carter a one-two punch. And he's all of 5'7", if that." I grinned. "He's a real scrapper."

  Right at that moment, there was a knock on the door. Carter, my tall, muscled ex-fireman of a husband, poked his head around the door and asked, "Am I interrupting anything?"

  Kenneth and Benjamin both stood.

  As I stood up, I said, "Not really. I was just telling them about the time Robert Kennedy wanted to have a go at you."

  Carter grinned. "He's a scrapper. And he's going places. So how's Jake Robinson doing?"

  Kenneth replied, "We're very happy with him."

  I said, "I asked them up to talk about our meeting with Higginbotham tomorrow."

  Carter frowned. "Right. I must have forgotten about that." He tilted his head to the left. "Isn't tomorrow Columbus Day?"

  Kenneth replied, "Yes, and I'm not sure why he wants to meet on his day off." Shrugging, he continued, "But we'll know soon enough."

  Carter looked at his watch just as the noon siren went off outside. "Y'all wanna join us for lunch?"

  Kenneth put his arm around Ben's shoulder. "We have lunch plans, already, but thanks. Are you two heading upstairs?"

  Carter nodded. "Yes." He patted his flat, muscled belly. "I promised myself to only have the veggies today."

  I walked over and put my arm around Carter's waist. "Don't let him fool you. He'll have a big pile of roast beef and then be down in the gym tonight for two hours."

  Benjamin grinned at me. "And what do you do while he's lifting weights?"

  I straightened my back and said, "I'll be educating myself by reading a good book. Like Tropic of Capricorn."

  "That trash?" laughed Kenneth. "That book has been banned. You shouldn't even have a copy." He shook his head. "Where'd you get one?"

  "Paris last January. And it's not trash. I liked the first one. Besides, it's better than watching the boob-tube with everyone else."

  . . .

  The Sky-Brau was all the rage. It had opened two weeks earlier in the restaurant space of our office building on the twentieth floor. Robert Harris, the owner, had somehow convinced Herb Caen, a columnist for the San Francisco Examiner, to come in a few days before the grand opening and have lunch. According to Harris, Caen had loved the food and the view and he'd made mention of the new place in a brief item in his column the next day. But the real sensation had happened when he returned the third day after they'd opened. The day after, he wrote an unusually long paragraph in his column:

  Putting Lipstick On A Pig

  THE hot spot for lunch is high above Market Street, on the 20th Floor of The Lipstick Bldg, home of our own Notorious Nick. Judges in recess, matronly gals usually seen at Trader Vic's, and even Peggy from the steno pool can be found, when the noon whistle blows, waiting in line at The Sky-Brau. White linen service meets carve-as-you-watch meats with down-to-earth prices and up-in-the-sky views. The tables are spotless and you won't find any peanut shells on these floors. But don't be surprised if the Chief of Police or His Honor, the Mayor, is seated across from you for a quick bite because the newest joint for sliced-meat-off-the-joint is hoppin' and there's no such thing as a table for one.

  We took the stairs up around a quarter past noon. When we walked around the corner and saw the line snaking out of the restaurant and into the elevator lobby, Carter asked, "Do you think they'll have our table waiting for us?"

  I shrugged. "If not, we can wait." I sniffed the air. "That smells so good."

  He nodded and patted his belly again. "I'm starving."

  I said, "Let me go up and ask Bill." William "Bill" O'Haver was the owner who acted as host and directed customers through the unusual layout. Customers walked in line past a carving station and then on to a series of hot tables to choose what they would have with their carved roast beef, ham, turkey, or whatever was on offer that day. Once they had their meal, a waiter would then escort them to a table and would bring them coffee or whatever they wanted to drink along with any dessert they might choose to order. Saying, "Pardon me," I squeezed by a larger woman who was wearing a very loud floral dress.

  She harrumphed, motioned over her shoulder, and said, "Line's in back, bud."

  I nodded and said, "I know," as I made my way to where Bill was standing. When he saw me, he frowned. "Did you give it away?" I asked.

  He nodded. "Sorry, Mr. Williams. When you weren't here at noon…" He looked harassed and I couldn't blame him.

  I shrugged. "That's fine. We'll stand in line."

  A woman just behind me said, "Some nerve you have, trying to cut in."

  I looked at her, said, "I know," and squeezed my way past everyone in line and back out the front door.

  . . .

  We'd been in lin
e for ten minutes and had barely moved. Meanwhile the crowd in the elevator lobby was beginning to get restless. Carter, being one of the tallest men around, looked over the crowd with a frown.

  "What?" I asked.

  He pulled me in close and whispered in my ear. "This is too many people. It's not safe."

  I nodded as a man pushed up against me from behind. I heard him say to someone else, "Hey, watch it, buddy."

  I looked up. "What do you wanna do?"

  He pursed his lips for a long moment. Finally, he whispered, "First, let's go downstairs."

  I nodded. One of the many benefits to being practically married to Carter is that people tended to get out of his way when he asked them to. He was certainly the most handsome man on at least five continents (I'd yet to visit Africa or Antarctica, so I couldn't confirm all seven), so that was part of it. But his height, width, and strength was the biggest reason. He was intimidating in a very friendly sort of way.

  After five minutes of pushing and saying, "Pardon us," over and over again, we ended up in the hallway and made our way to the door to the stairwell. For whatever reason, a handful of people had followed us.

  Before I opened the door, I turned around and looked at the small crowd. An older man in a threadbare brown suit said, "You two seem to be in the know. Is there a back way in?"

  In my mind, two very obvious replies floated up. The first was to just simply kiss Carter full on the lips. That would disburse most any crowd. The second, and much more practical, reply was to tell them the truth. "Our offices are on the floor below. If you wanna get down to the lobby you can follow us to the elevator. Or you can take the stairs all the way down."

  The man frowned and sighed dramatically. "It smells so fuckin' good in here. I ain't leavin'."

  An older woman was standing behind him with a younger woman. I had the sense they were mother and daughter. The older woman turned pink. "I beg your pardon, sir, but please watch your language. There are young people here."

  The younger woman grinned at me. I winked back. She put her hand on the older woman's arm and said, "Come on, Mama. Let's go downstairs and get on the elevator. We can go to the Old Poodle Dog instead." That was a French restaurant down the block with a storied past and solid fare.

  The older woman nodded. "Yes, I should think so."

  The man pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead. "Sorry about that, lady. I was in the Navy almost twenty years and sometimes I forgets."