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

doesn’t. He hates my guts.”
    â€œOh, that’s not true. Stop that.”
    â€œHe looks down his nose at me. I’m a lowly unemployed loser and he’s a big shot lawyer.”
    â€œMartin, stop. Besides, you’ve got a job, now.”
    â€œI guess you can call it that.”
    â€œI’m not going to get into this with you, Martin. Either you come or you don’t, I’ll leave it up to you. You’ll get an invitation, and I’d love for you to come if you’re all right with it. Now what did you call about?”
    Somehow asking her for the name of a shrink at that point would sound like I was mocking her plans to get married.
    â€œNever mind. I gotta go. Tell Ross congratulations for me.”
    â€œOkay, I will. Talk to Gina, all right?”
    â€œI’ll do it. Talk to you later.”
    After I hung up, I felt another panic attack coming on. I couldn’t believe Carol’s news would upset me as much as it did, but there you go. I had no qualms about pouring myself a couple of shots of tequila and becoming a couch potato for the next several hours until it was way past my bedtime.

9
Judy’s Diary
1960
    M ARCH 6, 1960
    Elvis is home! Hurrah! First Freddie, and now Elvis! There was footage of him coming home from the army on TV the other night. They said he’s going right into the studio to make a record that will come out at the end of this month. I’m so excited! I can’t wait!
    Speaking of Freddie, he’s doing better. He wasn’t very happy during his first couple of weeks at home. I guess he was depressed. He kept complaining how he was only 45 years old and that he was an “invalid.” I told him he’s
not
an invalid and that as soon as he gets his strength back, he’ll be as good as new. But he shot back with how he won’t be able to do what he used to do. He can’t smoke, he can’t drink as much, he can’t train (for now); all he can do is sit behind the counter at the front of the gym like a cripple and watch everyone. Well, when he said that I got angry. I told him to stop feeling sorry for himself and be thankful he’s alive. For goodness sake’s, he could have died! As he grows stronger, he’ll be able to do more. I told him to stop acting like a baby and
be patient
! That shut him up. I’m sorry I made him feel bad, but someone had to do it. I think he has a better attitude now.
    The Stiletto hasn’t made any appearances on the streets except to go to Chinatown to meet with Billy. We’re still doing mostly drills and exercises, except he showed me a couple of moves that I’m having trouble understanding. In fact, we’re sort of making them up aswe go along. I want to move along faster, too. I’m afraid I’m probably doing everything all wrong because I don’t have a proper
sifu
, but Billy’s doing the best he can. I suppose I’m integrating the
wushu
techniques with what I already know of
karate
; in a way, I’m developing my own personal technique of martial arts. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad idea in the long run, but it’s working for me right now.
    Billy told me about a
wushu
tournament that will take place next Saturday at the youth club he attends. It’s free for spectators. I plan on going—not as the Stiletto, of course. I’ll be in disguise—as Judy Cooper!
    M ARCH 12, 1960
    Interesting developments in the Chinatown case today, dear diary!
    Today I went to the
wushu
tournament at a Chinese youth club on Mulberry Street just west of Columbus Park. You’d have to be Chinese to know it was a youth club, because there was no English on the outside. I was a little nervous. I didn’t want to be where I wasn’t wanted, but Billy assured me there would be white folks there. All I saw were Chinese people of all ages going in and out. I finally got up the gumption to enter the building. A couple of