The Black Stiletto: Stars & Stripes by Raymond Benson Read Free Book Online Page A

sat with him for an hour or so. He was still weak and grew tired quickly. We did talk about what to do about the gym. I had to admit I would need some help running it, at least temporarily, until he was able to come home.
    â€œI was thinking of asking Jimmy if he’d like to be an assistant manager for a while,” I said. Jimmy’s the really nice Negro who was a gym regular even before I started working there. You know, dear diary, I’ve known him for years. I guess he’s in his late thirties. Freddie thought that was a good idea. He told me what I should pay Jimmy and left it up to me to work out his schedule. I didn’t know what else Jimmy did for a job, but if he didn’t accept I wasn’t sure who my second choice would be.
    Last night I was tired and still sore, but I scoured the newspaper for a story about the Chinatown shootings. I didn’t find anything, so I went to bed.
    This morning I opened the gym on time. All the regulars who came in looked at me and asked what happened. My story was that I got mugged. A couple of the guys were sweet, they wanted to “go find the bastards and kick their asses.” Then they asked why the gym was closed the last two days and where was Freddie. They were all shocked and saddened to hear about the heart attack. They promised to go visit him in the hospital, but I told them to wait a few days.
    As guys came in throughout the day, I got the same questions, over and over, so I ended up getting a marker and writing on the back of a boxing tournament poster all the details about Freddie, when visitinghours were, and what happened to me and that I was all right. Still, they all expressed sympathy and support. Louis and Wayne and Corky—they’re all such great guys. Even Clark, the young Negro I train, had tears in his eyes when he heard about Freddie.
    Jimmy came in this afternoon, so I pulled him aside to ask him about helping out. He said he works nights as a dishwasher at a restaurant, so the extra hours during the day would be welcome. We figured out a schedule that was mutually beneficial. I’d do most of the work, of course, but Jimmy would be available to spell me for some time off.
    Now it’s evening, after dinner, and I’m finally able to relax with the newspaper. Finally, there’s some news about the Chinatown incident. And sure enough, the headline in the
Daily News
is BLACK STILETTO IMPLICATED. Great. Just what I didn’t want. The article went on to say that two men, owners of the Lee Noodle Restaurant, were shot and killed by an unknown assailant. Witnesses reported a sighting of the Black Stiletto at the scene of the crime. What witnesses? There were no witnesses! Perhaps they were the mother and son. They certainly saw me. Anyway, the Stiletto was wanted for questioning, of course. Police believed it to be a robbery gone bad. Ha. I knew better. That was no robbery. Those bad guys had gone there to execute the two men, plain and simple, and Pock Face was about to kill the mother and the teenage boy, too, if I hadn’t waltzed in.
    It was all very disturbing. I keep thinking about the devastated expressions on that boy and woman’s faces. She had lost her husband. The boy had lost his father and uncle. I don’t know if the uncle was related to the mother or to the father, but apparently he was a close family member if he co-owned the restaurant.
    I decided I wanted to find out more, and especially see if that brave Chinese teenager was okay. If only the Stiletto could talk to him. He spoke English, after all. Perhaps he would tell her what was really going on that night.
    J ANUARY 14, 1960
    I haven’t written lately because I’ve been terribly busy at the gym and going to see Freddie. But I have some time now before I go out with Lucy to see a movie.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
is playing at the Bleecker. I didn’t see it when it was out a couple of years ago. Lucy and I
love
Paul Newman.