Secrets & Lies (27 page)

“Good morning, sir, we're the police. Can we come in?” one of them said. Only after he'd spoken did I realize he was the same guy I'd seen outside Betty Dinkins's apartment building. The one who saw me deliver the letter and watched me walk away.

Oh, my God, I was suddenly very nervous. “Do you have badges?” I had the presence of mind to ask.

“Sure, let us come in and we'll show them to you,” the man said as he started to enter.

I said, “Hey, wait,” and made a feeble attempt to close the door on him, but the guy was a lot stronger and bigger than me. He pushed his way inside, his partner followed him, and they shut the door behind them. “What's going on here?” I protested. “You can't just wa—”

A punch in the nose interrupted my sentence. The pain was incredible. Blinded and completely disoriented, I felt myself hit the carpet. I don't think I'd ever been hit in the face before, and I couldn't believe how badly it hurt. I was truly in agony. After a moment, I discovered my nose was bleeding.

The men hoisted me up and into a chair. I groaned and attempted to yell, but the guy slapped my cheek and said, “Shut up, don't make any noise or we'll kill you.”

That's when I went into panic mode. I was in a fight-or-flight situation, and it scared the holy shit out of me. I was on the verge of tears, and I'm pretty sure I cried a little from the now-broken nose. But I didn't bolt and run for the door. I was too frightened. I'd never experienced anything like what was happening to me. Were they going to hurt me? Would they kill me? I believed the guy's threat. He and his pal were big and scary and mean. They certainly weren't cops.

The next thing I knew, I was tied to the chair. I don't remember them doing it. My ankles were tied to the front legs of the chair, and my chest and arms were tied to the back.

The man I knew spoke again. “This is Bernie. My name is Stark.” He wasn't from around New York. He had a southern accent, Texas, maybe? It was similar to the way my mom talked! “And you must be Martin Talbot, right? I have ways of getting that information from the front desk, you see. We've been watching you, Mr. Talbot.” When I didn't say anything, he leaned in closer and growled, “'Cause your name ain't really
Jerry Smith
.”

Oh my God. It
was
about the letter.

Stark indicated his friend. “Bernie has a gag. Show it to him, Bernie.” The other guy held up an ugly leather S&M-type ball gag. It covered the entire face, with a large ball that fit uncomfortably in the mouth. I didn't want that on me. “We can play this cool and not have to use that, what do you say, Mr. Talbot?” Stark asked.

“What do you want?” I managed to croak.

“We want to know why you wrote that letter to Mrs. Dinkins.”

I could have played dumb and asked, “What letter?” but I knew that would just get me a slap. It was no time to be cocky or cover up anything. So I said, “I didn't want her to say she was the Black Stiletto, because she's not.”

“And how do you know that? Why would you make that claim?” He waited for me to answer and then he grabbed my hair roughly and jerked my face up to his. “You know something about her, don't you? The Black Stiletto. You see, we've been looking for her. When we heard about Mrs. Dinkins, we came up to New York to check her out. At first we thought she really was her, but now we don't think so. Your letter also makes us believe Dinkins was full of shit. So you're gonna tell us your story, or you won't be telling stories ever again.”

My heart was beating a mile a minute. Anxiety attack, full-blown. “There is no story,” I gasped.

Slap
. “Liar.”

There was another knock at the door. The men stiffened. Stark put a finger to his lips and gave me the evil eye.

“Dad?”

Gina.

She continued to knock. The men realized she wasn't going away, so Stark went to the door. “You got the wrong room,” he barked.

Silence. Then, “No I don't. Dad?” Another knock.

Stark cursed under his breath. “Go away, you got the wrong room!”

“I'm going to the front desk,” Gina announced. Stark knew he couldn't let her do that, so he opened the door with the chain on it.

“Run, Gina!” I shouted.

But she had already known something was wrong. As soon as it was ajar, she kicked the door hard, breaking the chain and slamming it into Stark. She burst in the room and saw me tied to the chair.

“Dad!”

She immediately turned to Stark and started to
clobber
him! What I'd seen her do in the Krav Maga studio was nothing compared to what I witnessed in front of me. The man put up a good fight, but Gina pummeled him with fists and feet—and he went down quickly. I think she kicked him in the nuts and demolished his Adam's apple. By then, though, Bernie had drawn a gun. He was directly in front of me, but he was aiming it at her.

I think I cried, “Gina, look out!” before everything went black.

1961

A
UGUST
12, 1961

I'm listening to the new Elvis record in my apartment. It's called “Little Sister,” and the other side is “His Latest Flame.” I predict it'll be another number one, but frankly I think I like side B better. I saw previews to his new movie
Blue Hawaii
, which is supposed to come out later this fall. I can't wait.
Wild in the Country
was okay, but it wasn't my favorite movie he was in.

I talked to Freddie today on the phone. He's doing well. The gym's business is up and the new assistant manager is working out fine. Freddie told me there was an article in the paper with the headline, “Has the Black Stiletto Moved?” Another front page asked, “Where is the Black Stiletto?” Well, too bad. New York had its chance. They ran me out of town and now Los Angeles is benefitting. I told Freddie about Luis and my new gym, but that I'll always miss the old place. Oh, another thing—Freddie told me that Kraig was arrested by the police for Clark's murder, but then he was
let go
. Unbelievable. Something about there not being enough evidence. Well, what goes around comes around, as they say, and guess what? Kraig met a bad end himself. He was shot and killed by a policeman during a convenience store robbery. So I guess justice was served after all. I don't think the world will miss that boy.

The other day Leo asked me if I wanted to try the pill. I didn't think it was available yet, and he said it wasn't, only to doctors who could prescribe it to married women. But he said he could get me some if I wanted them. To tell the truth, that offended me a little. He sounded like all he wanted from me was to go to bed, and the pill would mean he wouldn't have to wear a rubber anymore. I told him I'm happy with my diaphragm, it seems to work, and then I told him I'd see him later. He asked, “What's wrong?” but I ignored him, left his house, and drove home. He tried calling me, I'm sure it was him, but I didn't answer. I decided to let
him
wait for
me
for a change! I admit I enjoy sex, but I don't want it to be the only thing between us.

I'd hate to lose him, though. I'm not sure what it is we have together, but when it's actually happening, I really like it. When it's not, which is most of the time, it's frustrating. The other night a very handsome man at Flickers asked me for my phone number. He's an actor, but I'd never heard of him. His name was Jack-something and he was in that silly monster movie,
Little Shop of Horrors
, last year. I never saw it. I don't think he's as big an actor as he thinks he is. Anyway, it might have been nice to go on a date with him. But I answered that I was already seeing someone. That's crazy, though, because I hardly ever see him.

More and more, I've been curious about what Leo doesn't tell me. I think he has loads of secrets. He's supposed to be out of town this week. Since tomorrow is a Sunday, I'm going to drive to his office in the Wholesale District and see if I can use a lockpick to get inside. He won't be there, and I doubt Christina or anyone else would either on a Sunday morning. I don't know what I'm looking for or what I'm going to find, but I just want to make sure Leo's not a crook. He sure keeps company with a lot of crooks, and if he's one, too, then it's better I found out now rather than later.

A
UGUST
13, 1961

Oh, my gosh, dear diary, I had a close one this morning!

I drove to the Wholesale District and parked near Leo's building on 7th Street, west of Alameda. The place appeared to be deserted. I left the car and walked across the road, feeling the sun beat down on me. It was hot, but a nice hot. New York has hot summers, too, but not like this. New York is more humid. L.A. has a hot that you can stand. I was dressed in shorts and a white short-sleeve blouse. I used to never wear shorts, but here I do all the time when I'm not working. In an area where no one but longshoremen and greasy manual laborers frequented, I must have stood out something awful. Actually, I mean I stood out something pretty nice, if I say so myself. A pretty white girl with long black hair and long, muscular legs. I do attract the stares and whistles, thank you very much.

The front door of the building was unlocked. There were people there after all. Kelly Warehousing Enterprises was on the second floor, so I bounded up the stairs like I knew what I was doing. I didn't run into anyone, though, but I heard male voices in the distance, somewhere in the building. Suddenly I was nervous and thought maybe I should have done the task at night as the Black Stiletto. What would Leo do if I was caught?

The door to his outer office was marked, “Kelly Warehousing Enterprises.” There were a couple of ladies that normally worked in there, secretary-types, who guarded the way to his private office. His office was marked, “L. Kelly, President.” I knocked first, just to make sure I was alone, and then used a lockpick to jimmy open the door. It was dark and empty inside, so I started to enter when
I heard Leo's laugh
on the stairs, down the hallway. Then a woman's laugh. Heading my way.

I froze. I didn't know what to do—I couldn't very well go into his office if he was coming. So I quickly closed and locked it again—just as Leo and Christina appeared at the end of the hallway.

“Hi,” I said.

“Judy!” Leo was incredibly shocked to see me. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um, came to find you.”

They approached as I deftly stuck the lockpick in my shorts pocket. Then I noticed they were both carrying
rifles
inside canvas cases. “Hello, Christina,” I said.

“Hello,” she answered with no warmth.

“Honey, why are you looking for me? I'm working and—”

“You
said
you were out of town.” Then I had a bright idea. “Actually, I didn't come here looking for you at all. I was looking for Christina. I thought she'd be at work, but I forgot this was Sunday.”

Leo and Christina exchanged looks. “Why were you looking for me?” she asked.

“Because I thought maybe we should get to know each other better. I was going to take you to lunch. After all, we ‘share' Leo, don't we? It'd be nice if we became better friends.”

“Really? How nice of you.” Christina smiled, but I didn't believe her sincerity for a minute. I think she was smiling because she was laughing inside at the absurdity of my excuse.

Leo produced a set of keys and unlocked the outer office. “Actually, I'm leaving a little later today. I had to stop by the office to pick up some things. Christina came in to work a little bit, didn't you, sis?”

“That's right.”

“Come in, Judy, we'll talk in my office.”

So I followed them through the outer space. Christina sat in one of the secretaries' chairs while Leo unlocked his private inner sanctum. The door had a foggy-glass window, so you really couldn't see anything on the other side except light and shadow and shapes. He held it open for me and I stepped in.

“Judy, this is not like you,” he said after shutting the door and putting his rifle case on the desk.

“I'm sorry, Leo. It's just—I don't know what I'm doing with you. You're never around. I thought maybe Christina could tell me a little more about you, how I could convince you that our relationship is more than you seem to think it is.”

“Oh, Judy.” His blue eyes twinkled when he raised the venetian blinds to let the sunshine in. Then he took me in his arms, and I let him kiss me. “I don't need convincing. I'm crazy about you, Judy.”

“You don't act like it.”

“I don't? Judy, don't we have great times together?”

“Of course, we do.”

“I'm good to you, aren't I?”

“Yes, but—”

“But I work too much. I know. I know. Believe me, I know. But you have to understand my responsibility to the company, Judy. I have an important job and it requires my attention. I have to travel, it's part of the business.”