The Black Stiletto: Stars & Stripes (33 page)

Fine. Two could play with knives.

I drew the stiletto, jumped off the table, and changed the odds. It had been some time since I'd been in an honest-to-gosh knife fight, so I had to recall the tricks and strategies Fiorello had taught me.
For a moment I thought the other Tong members would join in the fray and I'd have to battle them all, but they respectfully kept their distance. This was Pock Face's war, and they were going to let him prove his mettle.

The table was between us, so I let him come around for a thrust. He was all too eager, so I kicked him in the face with as much strength as I could muster. Pock Face stepped back. His expression told me he wasn't quite sure what had hit him. I didn't stop there. Moving forward, I jabbed his knife arm with the stiletto. The blade punctured his sleeve and drew blood. He shrieked, but managed to hold on to the weapon. I lunged at him in order to hit him with my left fist, but he recovered from my previous kick and sliced my upper arm. The blade cut through the leather and I felt it break skin. It smarted like the dickens, but he was unable to halt my momentum. My fist didn't hit its target, but my entire body banged into his and we both fell to the floor. My first instinct was to put all my effort into disarming him, so I spear handed his forearm with the same strong blow I used to break 2 by 4s in Soichiro's studio. Pock Face yelped and dropped the knife. I probably shattered the bone.

He was on his back and I stood over him. I shoved my boot into his chest and held him down, and then I stuck the point of my stiletto under his chin.

“Do you yield?” I growled.

My opponent just stared at me with hate. He spit at me, and his glob of phlegm hit my mask and mouth. Yuck. Well, that really angered me. The guy cheated, he didn't play by the rules, and he was a murderer. He'd tried to kill me and he left Billy without a father. He was one bad man.

So I sliced off his ear.

He screamed bloody murder and rolled over to protect himself, but he still bled all over the floor. I got up and prepared to defend myself against the other Tongs. Tommy Cheng stood nearby with a heavy frown on his face, but he held up a hand to prevent anyone from attacking me.

“You said no one dies,” the leader said.

“Tell that to
him
. He tried to kill me, you saw it. He deserves to die. He killed Mr. Lee and his brother.” I tossed the bloody ear on the floor in front of Cheng. “But that's the only penance I'll take from him.”

I wiped the edge of my stiletto on the pool table felt and sheathed it. I then walked over to the suitcase full of money and picked it up. I looked at Cheng. “I'd say I won, right?”

The punk hesitated. I stared him down until he finally nodded.

“And you'll leave the Lees alone? The mother and her son? Their debt is canceled?”

Once again, Cheng nodded.

“If you break that promise, I'll be back for
you
.”

I left the bar and went home. The cut on my arm was superficial and didn't need stitches. Freddie was already asleep, thank goodness, so I cleaned the wound and bandaged myself.

Writing down this stuff sure acts as some kind of catharsis for me. When I started the diary entry, I felt anxious and my heart was pounding. Now I'm more relaxed. And I'm alive.

I'm going to have a glass of wine, a shower, and then go to bed.

It's ten days before Christmas and Gina is home from New York. She's staying with Carol, of course. It's good that Gina is there to help with the wedding, which will take place tonight at Ross's house in Lincolnshire. He has a pretty big place because he's a rich lawyer and all, so Carol will sell her house and move in with him.

Mom is still in the hospital, but the doctors think she'll be able to go back to Woodlands before Christmas. I was proud of Gina. She cheered up Mom immensely. Mom really brightened up when she saw her granddaughter. They actually had a conversation that made sense. It was a little one-sided with Gina doing all the talking, but Mom had appropriate responses and seemed genuinely interested in what Gina had to say. Gina told her about school and classes and teachers and boys. Apparently she had a date recently with a guy who also goes to Juilliard. I found that encouraging, not so much that I want Gina to get involved in a serious relationship, but rather I think it's good for her to get out socially. She's just now starting to show signs of normalcy since all the trouble. One interesting part of their talk had to do with Gina's martial arts lessons. She told my mom about them, that she was taking
krav maga
classes and learning how to defend herself.
Krav maga
is an Israeli fighting system that can be pretty rough from what I know. Gina was trying to explain what it was to Mom, so she asked, “Do you know what
karate
is?” and my Mom actually answered, “Yes, I do.” Then Mom formed her
hand spearlike and made a chopping gesture in the air! Gina laughed and said, “That's right, Grandma! You could be a black belt!” And then my mom said very seriously, “I have a black belt.” Gina was either humoring her or she thought Mom might have been talking about regular clothing, so my daughter laughed and said, “You do, Grandma? That's pretty cool.”

I thought it best to change the subject, so I prompted Gina to talk about her mother's wedding plans. When she could comprehend who
I
was, Mom had no problem remembering that Carol and I were divorced since it happened long before she got sick. I think, though, she's picked up on the fact that Maggie and I are an item. Whenever we're together in the hospital room, Mom perks up and seems to enjoy our company more when we're together than if I'm alone.

Gina and Maggie took to each other well. I was afraid Maggie had preconceived notions that Gina was some kind of problem child since she'd been arrested. But Maggie understood the trauma Gina had gone through and excused her on all counts. Gina later told me that I'd picked a “winner.”

Maggie and I had an awkward reconciliation after my idiotic behavior the other night. I realized that the reason I freaked out after seeing that TV story on my mom was because I desperately wanted to tell Maggie about the Black Stiletto. I had to leave the house because I was afraid I'd blurt it out. I called my doc the next day to say I didn't feel the antidepressants were working. He said to give it a little more time, a couple of weeks, and then he'd reevaluate everything and either increase the dosage or change the medication. He said that finding the right “cocktail” can sometimes take months, mainly because you don't know if something works until you've been taking it for four or five weeks. Great.

If it wasn't for that elephant in the room, Maggie and I would have a perfect relationship. In all other respects we get along great. She's lost that all-too-serious bedside manner when she's around me, except when she's acting professionally in her job at Woodlands. We
enjoy each other's company, and we make each other laugh. The sex is good, too, and that can be
oh
so important in keeping a relationship going.

She's going with me to Carol's wedding. Having a gorgeous woman like her at my side will keep me from being a basket case.

I'd never been inside Ross's house, but it could have been the Playboy Mansion—it was so huge. He had an expansive lawn in the back, but the cold weather necessitated the wedding being held indoors in a grand foyer. The reception took over the dining room, the living room, and a music room that held a grand piano. There were approximately sixty people in attendance. I knew maybe a third of them because once upon a time they were friends that Carol and I had. I didn't stay in touch with them much, although I'd run into the guys every now and then. Carol obviously remained closer. Most of the people were Ross's friends and family. Carol's older brother Gary—he's my age—was here from California. I hadn't seen him in years. He was friendly, but I don't think he ever liked me anyway.

It was very nice having Maggie there. I would have felt more out of place and like “the first guy the bride dumped” without her. She looked great, too. I told her she could be a fashion model instead of a doctor and she just laughed and punched my arm. I think the people who knew me were impressed. Ross certainly was. I thought he was going to call off the wedding and propose to Maggie instead. Well, not really. He did seem taken with her, though, and he was very cordial to me. What can I say? He's a successful and handsome guy, and I can't help but feel a little envious—“jealous” is the wrong word—but I'm happy for Carol, really I am, and I hope it works out better for her than our marriage did.

Gina looked beautiful. If you ask me, she was the belle of the ball. She was also very warm and friendly, talking to everyone and being charming as hell. You'd never think this was a girl who'd been assaulted in a New York park three months earlier. The anger I'd
seen when I was there was gone. Carol noticed it, too, and said something about it to me.

“Gina's doing well, don't you think?” she asked.

“Seems to be. How is she at the house?”

“Fine. She's being lazy, which is understandable since she's on Christmas break. But she seems happy.”

That was good to know.

“I think that martial arts class she's taking is good therapy for her,” Carol said. “It helps her work out a lot of issues.”

Yeah, just like my mother did
.

Maggie and I sat with Gina when we noshed on wedding cake and had champagne. Gina's not old enough to drink alcohol, but I didn't mind if she had a little bubbly on this occasion.

“Oh, guess what,” she said.

“What.”

“You know that guy Gilbert Trejano? The one who had me arrested?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“
He
was arrested! For
rape
and
murder
!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it happened just before I came home. Boy, do I feel vindicated. I knew I was right all along.”

That news hit me in the chest. I didn't know what to say at first. Maggie asked, “You mean he was the one who attacked you?”

“
I
believe he was, but the police aren't saying. He was caught for another crime.”

“How did they catch him?” I asked.

Gina rolled her eyes. “Well,
they
didn't catch him exactly. Someone assaulted
him
in his apartment and made him give up evidence that was hidden there. It was like a confession. The police got an anonymous tip and found him there, all tied up, with the proof that he'd killed a girl on the Upper West Side.”

My heart started pounding. Her story was
too
familiar.

“Who did this to him?” I asked.

Gina shrugged. “I don't know. I'm gonna have a tiny bit more champagne, okay, Dad?”

“Just a little.”

She got up and went to the bar. Was she avoiding my question?
Was she more like her grandmother than I wanted her to be?

I realized I was jumping to conclusions and had no reason to suspect that Gina—aw, hell I can't even say it. It couldn't be what happened. Was that why she was in such a better mood than she'd been in New York? Was this the reason the anger had dissipated?

“Martin, what's wrong?” Maggie asked.

I did my best to push away the anxiety attack by changing the subject. “Oh, nothing. I just suddenly feel like taking you home and ravaging you.”

She laughed. “Weddings do that to you, too?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, is that what's going on here? Are you telling me weddings make you horny?”

“Martin!” she whispered. “Stop it,” she said, but I knew she enjoyed the flirtation. Nevertheless, I was dying inside and I was determined not to let Maggie see it. I was afraid I'd break out in a sweat, like I've done before.

“No, I'm not stopping it,” I said. “Let's get out of here and go pretend we're rabbits.”

So we made our excuses, said our goodbyes, wished the bride and groom well, and went to Maggie's place. But on the way there, the back of my mind was full of images of Gina running across New York City roofs in my mother's costume.

D
ECEMBER 14, 1960

Gosh, it's been a month since I last wrote in the diary.

The big news is that today Billy and his mom moved into their new apartment in Chinatown, this time out of Flying Dragons and Hip Sing Tong turf. Actually, it's technically not in Chinatown, just a little north and east of Little Italy on Elizabeth Street near Grand. But I'll get to that in a moment; let me catch you up, dear diary.

Thanksgiving was a fun day, well, until something happened. Freddie and I hosted a big dinner at the gym and invited all the regulars. Lucy and Peter also came, and I invited some of my friends from Kennedy HQ, who stayed in the city for the holiday. Louise showed up, but Betty went to see her folks. Not surprisingly, a lot of the guys flirted with Louise, and she ate it up. Then it happened. Jimmy arrived and shocked us all by bringing his
wife
! No one knew he'd gotten married. She's a pretty Negro girl, but very shy. Her name is Violet.

I was shocked.

When I was at the buffet table helping myself to seconds, Jimmy happened to be piling turkey and green beans on his plate, too. I asked him, “So when did y'all get married?” He sheepishly replied, “Two years ago.”

I nearly choked. “
Two years
? You mean you've been
married
all this time?”

He nodded. “I'm sorry, Judy.”

Gawd
, I would never have done what I did with him in the locker room that day if I'd known he was married. “Why didn't you
tell
me?” I said through gritted teeth.

“I don't know . . . I just . . . I didn't get the chance . . . I . . .” The poor guy stumbled all over his answer.