Daddy Cool (13 page)

He began to scream as he saw the man draw back his arm and begin the throw. His scream was cut off as the well-aimed knife struck him in the heart. He gripped the blade sticking out of him, but it was only in desperation. His struggles were in vain as he fell against the wall. His body continued to jerk for a brief period. In fact, he was dead on his feet.

Daddy Cool didn't bother to look back as he hurried toward his exit. He reached the stairway before he even bothered to look back. He was glad to see that nobody had bothered to come out of any of the apartments yet. Closing the door behind him, he hurried down the stairs, praying that no one would see him.

His luck held out until he reached the last flight leading to the ground floor, then someone opened the bottom door. He froze on the stairway, holding his breath. Whatever happened, he didn't plan on leaving any eyewitnesses. Too many people had already seen him around the hotel, so it would be foolhardy to leave anyone alive who could identify him.

Anxiously he waited, but he heard no footsteps. Whoever opened the door hadn't bothered to come up. Slowly he began to inch his way down the steps, taking one at a time, making no sound whatsoever. He was like a large black cat, stalking his prey. Seething with the desire to hurry, he fought for control. At any moment, anybody could sound the alarm.

But the compulsion to run was on him. Knowing that the two bodies upstairs were already discovered, he wanted to break from his cover and bolt. Yet caution and experience made him use firm control. When he finally achieved his destination, he was surprised to find that no one was there. He had half expected to find a drunk sitting on the bottom of the steps. Instead, there was no one.

Daddy Cool spotted an abandoned brown paper bag. He could see the empty beer cans and other pieces of garbage protruding from the bag. He understood instantly why nobody came up the steps. Someone had just been too lazy to take their garbage outside and had set the bag down in the staircase. Daddy Cool let out a sigh of relief, then moved on.

He opened the door on the first floor and peeped out. Seeing that it was clear, he made his way quickly to the back door and was glad to find it just like he had left it. He opened it and stepped out into the welcome blackness of the night. His silent steps went unobserved, except by a passing alley cat who was creeping down the garbage-littered alley in search of his nightly game.

The two messengers of death passed each other, each involved in his own pursuit of destruction. One was already finished with his merciless mission, while the other still stalked the frightened creatures who in all probability would one day pay with their lives for a moment of carelessness.

Before leaving the alley, Daddy Cool threw away his last remaining knife. It was a long push-button switchblade that he had carried for an emergency. Now that he believed he was out of danger, he didn't want anything that might draw suspicion to him. He started up the motor of the car, and having wiped the knife clean, he tossed it into a trash container.

He drove quickly out of the alley. At times like this he hated to emerge from an alley. There was always the chance that a police car might drive by, and seeing a black man coming out of an alley was always enough to make them stop to investigate. But his luck held. The streets were deserted. He drove slowly until he reached Western, then he took it straight out until he approached the airport.

When he reached Manchester, he made a right turn and took it over to Wilshire. From there he reached the airport in a matter of minutes. One quick glance at his watch revealed to him that he had a whole hour to kill. He wasted part of the time out in the parking lot, cleaning up any prints that he might have left on the car.

Even though he didn't really think the car would be traced, because nobody had seen it that he knew of, there was always the chance that a passing police officer might have seen it parked at the rear of the hotel and taken down the license number.

So he didn't take any chances. The car couldn't be traced to him, except by fingerprints, because he had rented it under a false driver's license. After he was sure the car was clean, he placed the key in the ashtray. When he had reached the airport he had called the rental company and informed them where they could find their car.

As Daddy Cool stepped out of the telephone booth, he heard over the intercom that his flight for Detroit would be boarding on ramp six. Daddy Cool put out his cigarette, then picked up his bag and started slowly toward his point of departure.

EARL WALKED AROUND the open poolroom with a hangdog expression. Daddy Cool now had been back from his latest trip for over a week, yet he still hadn't found out the whereabouts of his daughter. Earl's problem was just the opposite. He believed he knew where she was and what she was doing. If Daddy Cool was to find out, Earl believed it would break the man's heart.

He had checked and rechecked the information he had received from various sources. The older men who came into the poolroom and shot their games in relative silence at the back of the poolroom seemed to be sure of what they had told him.

For that reason and no other, Earl didn't know what to do. This would be the first time in his life that he had ever held anything back from his friend. But he couldn't begin to figure out how to tell the man that his young daughter had become a prostitute.

For the past week Earl had been dreading the arrival of his boss. He was afraid the man would be able.to see in his behavior that he was hiding something. Angrily, he stared out the window, wondering what was to be done. The front door opened and both of Daddy Cool's stepsons came in, followed by their loudmouthed friend, Tiny. Tiny was a heavyset dark-skinned man, who was known to have a quick temper and who liked violence. On three different occasions Earl had to put him out of the poolroom for starting fights. If it wasn't for his close friendship with the two brothers, Earl would have barred him permanently from the place.

The three men came in, speaking loudly so that the girls working in the restaurant part of the establishment could see and hear them. Earl gritted his teeth. His mood was already a foul one, and with them on the premises it promised to get worse.

"What's happenin', Earl?" Buddy said as he came toward the front table. "You look as if you done swallowed somethin' that didn't agree with you."

The other two men laughed while Tiny glared at the huge man. He didn't have any foolish doubts about whether or not he could take the big man, though. Common sense told him to leave Earl alone. There was something dangerous about the huge man and Tiny knew it.

The three of them started up a nine-ball game. In the next hour all three flashed large bankrolls, making sure half the people in the poolroom saw that they were loaded.

Now Earl knew his day would be spoiled. For these fools to come up with large rolls of money, somebody had to have been ripped off. Earl wondered if Daddy Cool knew about it. If he didn't, he wouldn't be long in finding out, once he reached the poolroom.

The three young men laughed loudly. At every opportunity one or the other of them flashed his money. The other men sitting around watched them jealously. The sight of the large bankrolls only made everyone envious.

"All right," Earl warned them, "ya goin' have to cut down on all that swearing or take it down the street."

"Damn, baby," Tiny said loudly, "whose goddamn poolroom is this anyway? To listen to him talk, you'd think he owned the motherfucker!"

Before the speaker finished, Earl moved in on him. He didn't waste any time with idle threats. He just burst into action. He hit the heavyset younger man under the heart with a short uppercut. The punch traveled less than eight inches, but nevertheless, it was a powerful punch.

Tiny grunted, then reached for the edge of the pool table to balance himself. There was no thought of putting up a fight. The young bully was almost unconscious on his feet. Regardless of his condition, Earl didn't lighten up. He swung again, catching Tiny on the side of the jaw. It sounded like a board being cracked.

Before Tiny could fall, Earl caught him under the armpits. He straightened the man out and leaned him up against the end of the pool table. He glared angrily at the other two men.

"Now, I don't give a shit if your stepfather owns this joint or not. I'm paid to keep order in here, and that's what I'm goin' do. If either one of you don't like what happened, take it up with your father. Until then, or until he says it's okay, consider yourselves barred from your father's joint, dig it?"

The younger brother, Jimmy, wanted to say something smart, but the brute force of the man in front of him gave him a feeling of fear that he had never felt before. There was no way of knowing if Earl would cut loose on them or not, and Jimmy didn't want to take a chance. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his friend Tiny.

It was hard to believe that Earl had taken Tiny out of the picture so easily. Even though Jimmy hadn't had any doubts about Earl's ability to whip Tiny, he hadn't thought it possible for Earl to do it in such an easy fashion.

The older brother, Buddy, just shook his head. He had too much sense to get involved in an argument with Earl. Common sense told him that they had gone too far already. Daddy Cool would back Earl up no matter what they said. Earl's word would be taken, and it was possible for them to be barred from the poolroom for a long time. Now they didn't have anywhere to hang out, all because of Tiny's and Jimmy's big mouths.

He had cautioned them about flashing the money, too. The dope man they had stuck up would be getting various wires from fifty different informers, and it wouldn't take long for him to find out who was spending large sums of money. Buddy thought back on the stickup. Everything had gone smoothly. They had caught the dope man's woman at home by herself, and there shouldn't have been any problem.

She had given them the money, but that hadn't been enough. No, Tiny had wanted to have sex with the woman. So now, not only would the pusher be mad over being ripped off, they had added insult to injury. Tiny had raped the woman while the two brothers waited in the front room.

"Now," Earl's voice shattered his thoughts, "you two get that motherfucker out of here, and when your father comes, I'll tell him about what happened. If by chance you see him before I do, you can tell him for me."

"They don't have to tell me nothing," a voice stated harshly from the rear of the pool hall. At the sound of Daddy Cool's voice, all three of the men jumped.

Earl was the first one to regain his composure. "Hey, my man," he began, "we had a small sort of run-in a few minutes ago, brother."

"Yeah, I know all about it," Daddy Cool stated as he walked through the small crowd of men watching the action from the safety of corners.

"Good," Jimmy yelled loudly. "This sonofabitch had the goddamn nerve to jump all over Tiny here just 'cause Tiny made a mistake and cussed."

As Daddy Cool came around the front pool table he stopped in front of his younger stepson. "You know what, Jimmy," he said softly, "you're just about the biggest lying cocksucker I've ever known. And when I say that, boy, I'm talkin' 'bout a hell of a lot of lying cocksuckers!"

The sound of laughter broke out as the bystanders began to really enjoy the show. Most of the time it was just everyday affairs that came to them. They came out of their houses and sat around the poolroom to kill time. It was better than watching television every day. At least it got them from under their wives and mothers, who were glad to see them go.

Most of them were out-of-work laborers or young men too lazy to seek employment. There were jobs around, but none of the daily loafers ever sought employment. A few of them, those able to shoot pool fairly well, hustled a few dollars from some of the working men who stopped by at evening time.

After a sharp glance from Daddy Cool, the laughter dried up, each man attempting not to be caught laughing. Daddy Cool's cold grayish eyes swept the crowd. There was a deadliness in them that gave each man who thought he was being picked out a shake from an unknown fear. If any of them had been asked, they would have denied it on their deathbeds.

Fear? Never!

The long walk from the parking lot to the rear of the poolroom had taken its toll on Daddy Cool. He could feel the pain from his healing ribs, and that didn't improve his temper any. The sharp pain in his side made him aware of the damage done to his body from the beating he took. His anger became almost unreasonable as he started to take it out on his two stepsons.

"Both of you motherfuckers don't appreciate nothin' nobody does for you. I asked you to try and find out where your sister was at, but instead you come up here flashin' a small bankroll that you took from some goddamn paperboy and not doing what I asked." He stopped long enough to catch his breath.

Buddy knew what he was going to say before he said it. With all his heart, he wished he could make his stepfather change his mind. What he had feared was about to happen. A good thing was being blown for no reason at all.