Daddy Cool (3 page)

William Billings let out a sigh of relief. He had gotten away with it. Everybody had talked about how relentless the number barons were that he worked for, but after ten years of employment with the numbers men, he had come to the conclusion that it was just another business. Like the well-talked-about Mafia, the black numbers men he worked for depended on their reputations to carry them along. And many of those frightening stories out of the past became so outrageous that separating reality from unreality often was impossible.

Five years ago William had formulated the idea of how to rip off the people he worked for, but it had taken him another five years to get up the nerve to really put his dream to work. It had been easier than he imagined. The money had just been lying there waiting for him to pick it up. Actually, he was the accountant, so every day he was in contact with at least ten thousand dollars in cash. The problem lay with faking out the two elderly women who worked in the storefront with him. William had to hold back a burst of laughter when he went back over the events and how simple it had been. All those years of waiting, being afraid of what might happen if he walked out with the money, had made him ashamed. He could have ripped off the money five years earlier and been in South America by now, with his dream ranch producing money. But out of fear he had waited. Now that he had done it, he realized that all the waiting had been in vain. It had only been his inborn fear that had kept him from being rich.

A young girl in her early teens walked past, her short skirt revealing large, meaty thighs. William did something he never did. He spoke to the young girl as she went past, her hips swaying enticingly.

The girl ignored the older, balding man, keeping her head turned sideways so that she didn't have to look into his leering eyes.

At any other time the flat rejection would have filled William with a feeling of remorse. But now, because of the briefcase he carried, it didn't faze him at all. He even managed to let out a contemptuous laugh. The silly fool, he coldly reflected. If she had only known that I carried enough money in this briefcase to make every dream she ever had come true, she wouldn't have acted so funky. He laughed again, the sound carrying to the young girl as she hurried on her way home. At the sound of William's laughter, she began to walk faster. His laughter seemed to be sinister in the early evening darkness that was quickly falling. The sudden appearance of another man from around a parked car gave the girl a fright, but after another quick glance, she forgot about him. It was obvious that the man wasn't paying any attention to her. She glanced back once at the tall black man, then hurried on her way.

At the sight of the young girl coming down the street, Daddy Cool pulled his short-brimmed hat farther down over his eyes. He didn't want anyone recognizing him at this particular moment.

At the sound of Billings' voice, Daddy Cool relaxed. If William could find anything to laugh about at this stage of the game, it showed that the man was shaking off the fear that had made him so cautious earlier in the day. Now it was just the matter of the right opportunity presenting itself. Then Daddy Cool would take care of his job and be on his way home in a matter of moments.

At the thought of home, a slight frown crossed Larry's face. His wife would be cuddled up in the bed watching the television at this time of night. Janet might be anywhere. Without him at home she would surely run wild, staying out to daybreak before coming home, because she knew her mother would be sound asleep by the time she came in. And even if she was awake, there was nothing to fear because she wouldn't say anything to her about keeping late hours. All she was interested in was having a cold bottle of beer in her hand and a good television program. That was what made her happy.

Larry frowned in the dark as he wondered about the tricks fate could play on a man. He remembered the first time he had seen his wife. She had been dancing with a group at a nightclub. How he had wished he could make her his woman. Now, twenty years later, after getting the woman he had dreamed about as a young man, he realized just how foolish he had been. Instead of choosing a woman for her brains, he had foolishly chosen one because of the way she was built. The last fifteen years had been lived regretting his ignorance.

Even as he followed this line of thought, he realized that he would have put her out long ago if it hadn't been for his daughter, Janet. Knowing how it was to grow up as a child without any parents, he had sworn to raise any children born to him. Janet had been the only child born out of his marriage. So he had poured out all his love for his only child, giving Janet whatever she thought about having. He had spoiled the girl before she was five years old. Now that she was in her teens, he couldn't remember when either one of them had ever whipped the child. Janet had grown up headstrong and used to having her way. Because of the money Daddy Cool made, it hadn't bothered him. Whatever the child had ever wanted, he had been able to give it to her.

Daddy Cool noticed the man he was following turn the corner and start walking faster. There was no better time than now to make the hit. As long as the man stayed on these back streets it would be perfect. He only had to catch up with the man without arousing his suspicions. Daddy Cool started to lengthen his stride until he was almost running.

William had a definite goal. A longtime friend stayed somewhere in the next block, but over the years he had forgotten just where the house was. In his haste to leave Detroit, he had left his address book on the dining-room table, so it was useless to him now. He slowed down, knowing that he would recognize the house when he saw it. It was on Newal Street, that he was sure of. It shouldn't be too hard to find in the coming darkness.

Like a hunted animal, Billings' nerves were sharpened to a peak. Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed a tall man coming around the corner. His first reaction was one of alarm. His senses, alert to possible danger, had detected the presence of someone or something in the immediate vicinity. As a shiver of fear ran down his spine, he ridiculed himself for being frightened of his own shadow. There was no need for him to be worried about someone picking up his trail. Not this soon anyway.

Disregarding the warning alarm that went off inside his head, he slowed his pace so that he could see the old shabby houses better. The neighborhood had once been attractive, with the large rambling homes built back in the early twenties. But now, they were crumbling. Most of them needed at least a paint job. Where there had once been rain gutters, there were now only rusted-out pieces of tin, ready to collapse at the first burst of rain.

William cursed under his breath. He wondered if in his early haste he might have made a wrong turn. It was possible. It had been years since he'd been up this way, and it was easy for him to get turned around. He slowed his walk down until he was almost standing still. Idly he listened to the footsteps of the man who had turned down the same street as he did. Unable to control himself, William turned completely around and glanced at the tall, somberly dressed man coming toward him. He let out a sigh as he realized that he had been holding his breath. He noticed that the man coming toward him was middle-aged. Probably some family man, he reasoned, hurrying home from work. He almost laughed out loud as he reflected on what a hired killer would look like. He was sure of one thing, a hit man wouldn't be as old as the man coming toward him. In his mind, William pictured the hit man sent out after him as a wild young man, probably in his early twenties. A man in a hurry to make a name for himself. One who didn't possess too high an intelligence, that being the reason he would have become a professional killer. It didn't take any brains to pull the trigger on a gun, William reasoned. But a smart man would stay away from such an occupation. One mistake and a hit man's life was finished.

Suddenly William decided that he was definitely going the wrong way. He whirled around on his heels swiftly. The tall, light-complexioned man coming near him stopped suddenly. For a brief moment William hesitated, thinking he saw fear on the man's face. The dumb punk-ass bastard, William coldly reflected. If the sorry motherfucker only knew how much cash William had in the briefcase he carried, the poor bastard wouldn't be frightened by William's sudden turn.

"Don't worry, old chap," William said loudly so that the other man wouldn't fear him. "I'm just lost, that's all. These damn streets all look alike at night."

The tall, dark-clothed man had hesitated briefly; now he came forward quickly. He spoke softly. "Yeah, mister, you did give me a fright for just a minute. You know," he continued as he approached, "you can't trust these dark streets at night. Some of these dope fiends will do anything for a ten-dollar bill."

William laughed lightly, then smiled. He watched the tall man reach back behind his collar. Suddenly the smile froze on his face as the evening moonlight sparkled brightly off the keen-edged knife that was twitching in the man's hand.

Without thinking, William held out his hand. "Wait a minute," he cried out in fear. "If it's money you want, I'll give you all mine." Even in his fright, William tried to hold on to the twentyfive thousand dollars he had in his briefcase. He reached for the wallet in his rear pocket. He never reached it.

With a flash, the tall man dressed in black threw his knife. The motion was so smooth and quick that the knife became only a blur. The knife seemed to turn in the air once or twice, then became imbedded in William's slim chest. It happened so suddenly that William never made a sound. The force of the blow staggered him. He remained on his feet for a brief instant while the knife protruded from his body.

With a quiet groan, William Billings began to fall. The pavement struck him in the back. His eyes were open slightly as he felt more than saw the silent man bending down over him. He tried to open his eyes wider as he felt the knife being withdrawn. Why? he wanted to ask, but the question never formed on his lips. The cold steel against his neck was the last thing he felt on this earth. When the tall, light-complexioned man stood up with the briefcase hanging limp from his left hand, William Billings never heard the quiet words the man spoke.

"You should have never tried to take it, friend," Daddy Cool said as he leaned down and wiped the blood off his favorite dagger. He liked to use the knives whenever he could. They were quieter and less trouble. He glanced back over his shoulder to see if anybody had noticed the silent affair. The streets were still deserted as the cool evening breeze began to blow.

Without another glance, Daddy Cool stepped to the curb and quickly crossed the street. His long strides took him away from the murder scene quickly. He walked briskly but not so much in a hurry as to draw attention. When he reached the corner, he took a backward glance and for the first time noticed an old black woman coming down the steps from the shabby house where the body lay.

At the sight of him peering back at her, she hesitated and stood where she was.

"Damn!" The curse exploded from Daddy Cool's lips as his jaw muscles drew tight. The old bitch had probably been watching the whole thing from her darkened windows. But, Daddy Cool reasoned as he continued on his way, it had been too dark for her to see anything. No matter. He began to move swiftly now toward his car, which was parked two blocks away on another side street.

Daddy Cool turned down the next block and silently cut through somebody's yard. He walked quietly, listening for dogs. His luck held as he made it through the yard and didn't run into any dogs until he started to cut through a yard that he was sure would bring him out near his car. Now his mind was busy. He wondered if the old bitch had called the police before coming out and trying to give aid to a dead man. If she had, they would be setting up lookouts for a man on foot. He couldn't take any more chances.

The large, muscular German police dog jumped up on the fence and barked loudly. Daddy Cool took a quick glance at the house and noticed that it was dark. There was the chance that everybody was sound asleep, but he doubted it. They were more than likely watching television. He started to walk down to the next yard but instantly saw that the yard contained two large mongrel dogs. Without hesitating, Daddy Cool retraced his steps.

Again the large German police dog jumped up against the fence, barking loudly. Suddenly his bark stopped and the dog toppled back on the ground with the handle of the long dagger sticking out of his neck. Daddy Cool took the time to retrieve his knife. He couldn't leave it. It was like a calling card. If the police found his knife they would know that a professional had been at work. Over the past years, he had had to leave his knives on three different occasions. His knives were handmade by him in his own basement, so that there was no way of tracing the knives back to any stores. But the police in three different cities had his knives, waiting for a day when they would be able to tie them with the killer who so boldly used them. For the past ten years certain detectives followed up all knife killings such as the one that had been committed tonight. With patience they slowly waited until one day the killer would make a mistake.

Daddy Cool didn't have the slightest intention of making that mistake. The thought of driving all the way back home with the telltale knife in his possession was a grim thought. If the police should stop him and find the knife, he would be busted. As he crossed the yard silently he removed his handkerchief and wiped the knife clean. Then, seeing that the back steps of the porch were open, he leaned down and tossed the knife and hankie under the house as far as he could.

Without seeming to have stopped, he continued on his silent way, coming out on the sidewalk and quickly walking past two houses to where his black Ford was parked. He tossed the briefcase on the seat beside him and started up the car motor. Glancing up, he saw the headlights of a car turn down the block, and he quickly cut his motor off and stretched out on the car seat. As soon as he heard the car pass, he raised up and watched until the headlights disappeared completely before restarting his own car.