Daddy Cool (19 page)

It would be better if he gave the money to them than to see a slimy-ass pimp end up with it. His money, he had to laugh at that. People would kill for half the amount he had. He laughed again. People would kill: the thought stayed in his mind. He had killed to accumulate the money and now it didn't do him any good. Yes, maybe he had lived a good, or rather soft life most of the time, but was it worth it? He damn sure didn't enjoy it now. Death would be a blessing, he reflected, as he took out his cigarette pack and lit a smoke.

Before he could finish the cigarette, his telephone rang. "Yeah," he said, snatching the receiver off the hook. "What?" he snarled into the receiver. "Where the hell have I been? Whose fuckin' business is it where the fuck I've been?" he asked angrily into the telephone.

"Okay then, don't ask me no stupid-ass questions. I'm not in any kind of mood for it. No, I don't feel like coming over there. Yes, I know who the hell I'm talkin' to, but what the hell difference does it make? I could care less. Okay, you've had a hard time today, but so have I."

Finally the man on the other end of the line said something that snapped Daddy Cool out of his irritable behavior. He spoke with more respect. "Oh, okay, Big Jack," he said. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'll come over right away. Yes, I'm leaving now. Just hold on, I'll be there." Daddy Cool hung up the receiver, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared down at the telephone. "This is one crummyass world we live in," he said out loud.

He slipped his shoes back on. During the process of redressing, he remembered part of the conversation. Big Jack was a man like himself who had pulled himself up out of the gutter to have some thing in this world. Daddy Cool remembered going over to the man's house for Christmas, taking Janet along so that she could play with Big Jack's young daughter.

Even though Janet was a good five or six years older than Big Jack's daughter, they seemed to enjoy each other's company. Now, and Larry was sure of it, he had heard Big Jack crying. Yes, the big man had actually cried over the telephone. That was one of the reasons his nasty mood had changed and he had started talking like he had some kind of respect for the man on the other end of the line.

Daddy Cool was now impatient. He wanted to get over to his friend's house now and get the whole story. From what he had gathered, somebody had stuck up Big Jack's main numbers house. In itself, that wasn't too bad a blow because it was only money, and Big Jack could easily replace it. If that had been the only problem, Daddy Cool would have stayed at home. Numbers house stickups were numerous.

The drive was short, Big Jack's private home was just a few blocks away from where Daddy Cool stayed. Both men had bought in the neighborhood when a black face was a rare sight. Now, it was nothing to see blacks in the supermarket, but before, they had been very conspicuous.

Daddy Cool pulled up into a driveway very similar to his own. Before he could get up the walk, the front door opened. Jack stood there in his shirtsleeves waiting for his old friend. He nodded his head and led the way through the house to his private study. There was no one else in the room.

Before the heavyset, light-skinned man could speak, Daddy Cool spoke up. "I'm not really interested in taking this job, Jack. I'm retiring from the business."

Jack waved his words aside. "First, Larry, I want you to listen, then I'm going to show you something. After that, if your friendship means anything, I believe you will handle it for me. Now, I know the money ain't the problem. It's like you say, Larry. You're tired, so you want to step back. Cool, I can dig that, but first check this out."

Daddy Cool stared at his friend. He had never seen him so upset before. The man smoked cigarette after cigarette. At one time he had three of them burning at once in the ashtray.

"It was three niggers who knocked my joint off," Jack began. "Now, I'm willing to pay ten grand a head for each of the bastards."

Before Daddy Cool could interrupt, Jack waved him silent. "Please, Larry, just listen. It ain't about the money these motherfuckers took; it's what they did to my daughter. You know she still ain't nothing but a child. You know that, Larry, and these dirty motherfuckers had the nerve to rape her. Rape her," his voice rose, "and did it in front of her mother. The child is in shock now. Her and her mother are in the hospital. But that's not the important part. Ain't no bastard under the sun goin' do that to mine and get away with it. That's why I want you on the case." When he finished speaking, he picked up a picture off his desk. It was a picture of Daddy Cool holding the young girl in his arms.

Larry stared down at the picture. It hurt, it damn sure hurt. He had a little bit of feeling for the pretty child who called him "Uncle Larry." Yes, he cared for her, and it was like Jack said. It wasn't about the money. If the bastards had just taken the money and gone, he would have got up and laughed in Jack's face before turning the job down. But this was a far different matter. The child meant something to him, and whoever the animals were who committed the crime, they needed to pay for it.

"Okay, Jack, I'll take the job. I don't know what kind of leads you have on the people who took this off, but knowing you, I'd say you have a damn good idea who it was and where they hang out."

Jack dropped his head. "Yeah, I know quite a bit 'bout these bastards, Larry. That's why I don't know if you really will want to take this case or not."

Daddy Cool let out a grunt. "I just said I would, didn't I? Your kid is just like mine, just like Janet is close to me. I can't count the times your kid has stayed all night over to my house, Jack, nor the times my kid has stayed over here. So let's not hear no shit. I said I'd handle it and you knew once I knew the facts I would."

Jack stared at his old friend closely. "As you know, Larry, I got cameras all over my numbers joints. That way, if somebody gets sticky fingers, when I run the film back, I can spot the thief. Now, the camera picked up everything during the holdup." Jack stood up. "Hit this switch right here, Larry, after I go out. I can't sit through the fuckin' film again. When you finish with it, set it on fire. I don't want it under my roof!"

Daddy Cool stared up at his friend. Something was wrong here, but he couldn't get the message yet. He had a premonition that he wouldn't like it. But Daddy Cool followed his instructions and waited until the big man left the study before cutting on the film. The first thing he saw was his older stepson with a pistol in his hand. The cigarette in Daddy Cool's fingers dropped to the floor as he stared, shocked, at what was unfolding before his eyes.

The film showed Jimmy shoving money into a shopping bag, then all at once it jumped to the rape. If Daddy Cool had been shocked before, he was now dumbfounded. He didn't want to believe his eyes. He watched the abuse of the small child and tears of frustration ran down his cheeks. Now he knew why Jack didn't want to sit through another showing of the film. The big man had known all along that it was Daddy Cool's stepsons who had done this hideous thing to his family.

With a cold, chilling determination building up inside of him, Daddy Cool watched as his younger stepson viciously attacked the child. Now he did cry. Dropping his head on his arm, he cried like a child.

Big Jack didn't disturb him. Daddy Cool stayed in the study until daybreak before coming out. His eyes were dry by then. He found the big man asleep on the couch. He dropped an empty book of matches on top of the sleeping man. He knew that Big Jack would understand that the film had been destroyed. By destroying the film, Daddy Cool was letting him know that he would handle the job. If he wasn't going to do it, the film would have had to be saved so that the man who was hired for the job would know what the men he stalked looked like. Daddy Cool knew all too well what they looked like.

After starting up his car, Daddy Cool just drove around the city, moving slowly in the early morning rush-hour traffic. He knew it was going to be a grim job ahead of him, but it would have to be done. Men lived by certain codes and, when they were violated, a man had to make a stand. There were few things that Daddy Cool hadn't done in his lifetime. But he was proud of one thing: he had never raped anyone, woman or child.

As he drove he thought about Buddy. He couldn't hear the orders, but he could tell from the facial expressions that it was Buddy who had made them leave when they did. The film showed him picking up the bag of money and leaving, while the other two pigs were still on the floor. Yet, it wasn't possible for him to spare Buddy. Buddy was the one who did the leading, so he should have stopped them from committing the act of degradation.

If only he had, Daddy Cool thought over and over again, then they would have been home free. The money they probably could have kept. Since they were so close, Big Jack might have overlooked it. But not now. There was no possible way for him to overlook it. And if he had, Daddy Cool knew in his heart that he wouldn't be able to overlook it. The damage had been done, and now it was payback time.

Before long he found himself out on Bell Drive. It had been years since he had come this way. He parked his car and got out. Daddy Cool walked down to the water and stared out over it. How quiet it seemed out on the lake, he reflected as he watched the large ships slowly passing. How nice it would be to be on one of them, going somewhere, away from the madness that appeared suddenly everywhere around him.

After about an hour of quiet reflection, Daddy Cool made up his mind. There was no use putting something off that he could take care of now. The longer he postponed it, the more he would brood about it. When he returned to his car, he drove straight home.

He removed his clothes and redressed slowly. This time he took exceptional care about what he wore. Everything was jet black. The harness he strapped to his back carried six knives in it. He didn't believe he would need so many weapons, but he didn't want to take any chances.

When he finished with the hateful job that was before him, he would destroy everything that reminded him of his work. Before he left the house, he picked up the telephone and made arrangements for an airplane trip to the Bahamas. It was time for him to take a badly needed vacation.

Instead of telling his wife about his trip, he decided just to leave, so he packed a suitcase. He knew that after making the hits on her sons, he wouldn't like staring into her grief-stricken face. She wouldn't know why they had died, or care. Nor would she know who had done it.

"Shirley," he called when he reached the hallway. He waited patiently until she got up and came to the door. "I'm takin' a little trip, honey, so I'll call you when I get settled. If you should need any money, you'll find plenty of cash in the bottom drawer. Use the small key I gave you for my strongbox and get whatever you might need out of it."

"Okay, daddy," she answered, wondering why he seemed so strange. To her surprise, he leaned over and kissed her on her lips. It was the first kiss between them in over ten years. As she watched him walk slowly toward the door, she was surprised at what she saw. "My," she reflected, "he's gettin' old. I've never noticed it before."

For a reason she could not name, she followed him out of the house and walked as far as the porch with him. She didn't know what to say. Like always, when she found herself with him, she was at a loss for words, but she wanted to see him out. It was as though he was ill and she worried about his health. But she knew he was in perfect health.

She didn't want to even think about the idea that flashed through her mind. She remembered what her grandmother used to say about her husband when he had grown old. "He's got death on him, you can see it. Whenever you live with a man, after a long time, a woman can see things like that." She had never believed it before, and when the idea came into her head she quickly shook it off.

Daddy Cool waved back at her as he slowly drove out of the driveway. He couldn't really understand his own behavior. He blamed it on the job ahead. He knew he was about to kill her children and felt pity for the woman who had shared most of her adult life with him.

Because of his steady use of informers, Daddy Cool knew right where his stepsons were staying, even though they hadn't bothered to give him the address. It was located on the east side. He drove onto the freeway and noticed that the traffic had lightened up. It was after eight o'clock in the morning, and most of the factory workers were already at work. Now it was the white-collar workers who were rushing to make their morning time-cards right.

The house he stopped in front of was old and painted gray. The three men had the whole downstairs to themselves. As Daddy Cool made his way up the sidewalk, he prayed that they didn't have any company. It would be nasty if every one of them had a broad sleeping with them.

He pushed the bell outside the door. When Daddy Cool didn't get any answer, he raised his fist and knocked very hard. In a minute he heard a sleepy voice inquire, "Who the hell is it?"

"It's your pa," Daddy Cool answered, recognizing Buddy's voice. The young man answered the door, still wearing his silk underwear. He tried to conceal the small automatic pistol he carried. When he saw his stepfather staring at the gun, he shrugged. "You know how it is, Larry; in a neighborhood like this, you can't take too many chances."

"Yeah, I know," Daddy Cool replied, just as Jimmy came out of his room. So far, it was good. He hadn't seen any women. But that didn't mean anything. They could still be in the bedrooms sleeping.

Tiny opened the door of his room and glanced out. Daddy Cool noticed that the man held a pistol in his hand. When he saw who it was, he tossed the gun back into the bedroom and came out. All three of the men were wondering why Daddy Cool had bothered to wake them up at such an hour.

Buddy was the only one who thought he knew the reason. He had known the numbers man they knocked off was a personal friend of Daddy Cool's, but for the life of him he couldn't understand how Daddy Cool might know they had taken the job off.

"What's the deal?" Tiny inquired, then staggered toward the toilet. "Shit, that fuckin' beer we drank done kept me pissin' all night." He spoke in the offhanded manner of a man who had just awakened from a mean drunk and wanted to impress everybody around him with the fact.