Maddog 1 The Begining

by Tom Golabek

It was about five o’clock when I reached 238th Street. I pulled the car to the curb, got out, and climbed the stairs to my office. The doorknob made a clicking sound as I turned it. There was Lola behind her desk…filing. Not papers…her nails! You would think that the amount of time she spent on her nails, that she was a safe cracker.

  She squealed out a, “Hi Mike, what’s happening?” Her smile was from ear to ear. I droned out, “I’ve been down to the employment agency to get a new secretary.”

  Lola’s smile vanished, and her lips became pursed. Her two big beautiful eyes were staring at me in sorrow. She didn’t know whether I was kidding or not. I thought I had better say something before she started bawling.

  “Take it easy baby, I’m only pulling your leg. Nobody could ever take your place.”

  I have never seen the moods of any broad change as fast as Lola’s.

  “Get your bag honey, and let’s go home.”

  As she reached across the desk for her bag, the valley between her breasts stared me in the face. Her low-cut dress was really low-cut. She could have walked around the damn desk for her pocketbook, but she wanted to tease me. I’ll have to admit that she did a good job of it. Her knee length leopard coat was hanging on the stand, so I plucked it off, and held it out for her to squeeze into. She squeezed into it alright. Right up against me. What a sex crazy dame. I gave her a kiss on the neck, and caressed her buttock. That leopard coat really showed off her round, firm features.

  I grabbed for the door, opened it, and followed her out the building. A cold wind was settling in, lifting the smog of the city.

  We reached the car, turned the ignition, and spun out.

  Lola really knew how to mold herself into a bucket seat. She’d probably rather sleep in a bed shaped like one.

  There was a sense of peace in the city, and surprisingly few cars moving on the street considering the time of day. It was noiseless. The radio was off, the windows were closed, and Lola had her trap shut. It was calm and beautifully quiet.

  Then it happened. It was too good to be true. She squeaked, “Gee, it’s hot in here.” Her right hand rolled down the window and let the noise of the city intrude on my serenity. Then with her left hand, she turned on the radio. That wasn’t enough. She started blabbing.

  I shut off the radio, cranked my head toward her, and said, “Lola, please, let me have some peace and quiet. Close the damn window.” She closed it in two seconds flat.

  In a lowered voice, Lola asked, “Mike honey, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. Would you please take me out?”

  I said, “OK, but let’s take a shower first.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  My apartment building was facing us now, so I pulled over to the side, and turned off the engine. Lola dragged herself out, and met me on the other side of the car. We dashed across the street, into the building, and through the jaws of the elevator. A few seconds later, we ambled off the lift. She beat me to the apartment, pulling out her key to unlock the door.

  I shuffled to the refrigerator, and pulled out a couple of cold Buds while she turned on the radio. Sitting down on the couch, I asked Lola to take her shower first. She skipped off to the bedroom, and got undressed. The music on the radio stopped, interrupted by the news. The voice in the box announced KO Krasinski would be buried tomorrow.

  That meant that I had to talk to Mrs. Krasinski tonight because she probably wouldn’t be in any shape to talk business tomorrow. I guzzled down the last of the beer, and joined Lola in the bedroom.

  She had just stepped into the shower. I shed my clothes making a pile on the floor. The edge of the bed creaked as I sat on it to wait until Lola was done. She hopped out a couple of minutes later with a bright purple towel wrapped around her lovely body. I let out with a soft wolf whistle, and strolled into the shower. The water stung as it hit my body, but it felt good to be clean. I wished I could wash the dirt of the city away as I washed the dirt from my body. Yeah, the dirt…the scammers…the hustlers...the scumbags. They sucked money out of honest people like leeches suck blood. They kill for the joy of it, but now they were messing with the wrong man. I have dealt with them before, and they were the ones who ended up hurt. When I find out who the big man behind this boxing scam is, he’ll wish he was never born. The same went for Dragon. When the right time comes, he’ll find out what pain is. He’ll beg for mercy, but I won’t give him any. Some hoods would rather face the Devil than Maddog Murdock.

  I turned off the water, and strolled into the bedroom. Lola was still wondering what dress to wear even after I had finished dressing. I walked to the kitchen, pulled a couple more brews out of the fridge, and opened them up. The first bottle was empty by the time Lola walked out of the bedroom, wearing a tight navy blue dress with a hip hugging belt around her waist. She knew how to dress. I finished off the other beer, and we walked out the door.

  Two men in the lobby couldn’t take their eyes off of Lola. Who could blame them? She was delicious looking. The doorman opened the thick glass door for us, and we exited.

  I was in the mood for some off-the-wall type of food tonight, so we hopped into the car, and headed for 225th Street. There was a place on the corner that had the best kielbasa in the Bronx. The name of the joint was “Stashu’s.” It wasn’t a high-class place, but it wasn’t a cockroach barn either. We took a table by the window, and opened the menus. The waiter came over asking for our order. I ordered for both of us. Lola didn’t know the difference between a hotdog, and a knockwurst. I said, “Let me have two orders of boiled kielbasa, a side dish of borscht, and two kishki. Also bring a weak sloe gin fizz, and a draft beer.” He nodded his head politely, and took off.

  A few minutes later the drinks came. By the time we finished them the meal was being served. I ordered a couple more drinks, and we dove into the meal. The food was great, and we ate like it was going out of style. I left a twenty on the table, and walked out the door with our bellies full.

  We hopped back into the car, and made tracks for the Lotus Lounge. A police car was in front of me so I took it easy on my way uptown. I pulled into the parking lot for the customers, and got out. Lola clung to my arm as we walked through the doors of the Lounge. The place was quiet. I didn’t know how they made money. There were seldom more than ten people in it at any one time. I noticed a group of kids in one of the booths, and a couple of the local hookers sitting at the far end of the bar. I said, “Hi” to Dutch and threw some money on the bar. He set up our drinks, took a couple of bills, and dropped some change back. I thought it was a good time to call Mrs. Krasinski, and shuffled to the phone booth in the other room.

  I found a dime in my pocket, and poked it into the little eye of the phone. Someone answered after a couple of rings. I asked for Mrs. Krasinski, and waited a few seconds. A woman’s voice answered, “Yes?”

  She listened very intently while I told her that I was willing to be retained to find out the truth about her son’s death. I didn’t want to soak her too much so I gave her a nominal charge of $1,000 lump sum. She agreed, and I said I would have a report for her as soon as I secured further information. With that, we said our goodbyes and hung up. I wish all my clients were as easy as that. It was worth a thousand clams to find out who killed one’s son. I wouldn’t have charged her anything, but I had those bills on my desk.

  I squeezed out of the phone booth, and headed back to my barstool. Two guys were sitting next to Lola, one on each side of her, and she appeared to be bothered by them. They must have come in while I was on the phone, and thought she was alone. One of them grabbed her hand, and when she yanked it away, they started making some obscene remarks. This I didn’t go for. I walked up behind one guy, grabbed him by his collar, and yanked him off the bar stool…onto the floor. The other slid off his seat, and came at me with his fists clenched. I brought up my leg into his lower abdomen. The punk doubled over in pain. For an extr
a thrill, I landed a haymaker uppercut. My ring tore into his chin. A piece of his skin was left on my diamond as he dropped to the floor. He’d need a few stitches to sew up that gash. The other meatball picked up a shot glass off the floor, and threw it at me.

  Lola screamed, and I ducked just in time. I was blocking the only exit for him, so he backed toward the corner. He could see in my eyes that I was gonna do a job on him. I grabbed his neck with one hand. With the other, I shot three quick jabs into his now bloodied face. He cried out in pain, but I didn’t hear a thing. I took a step back giving him another jolt in the kisser for good measure. Whamo! Two teeth fell from the bloody hole in his face. He wouldn’t be eating any corn on the cob tonight. I turned to the other guy. He was still on the floor trying to shake off the cobwebs in his head. He wasn’t having too much luck. I picked them both up, and dragged them to the door. With a push, both of them went flying onto the sidewalk outside the joint. They looked like drunks who had just got through partying.

  I walked back into the place, returned to my stool, and looked at Lola. Her eyes were bright and proud. I think that sometimes she starts things just to see me fight. Lola had a thing for tough guys, and I fit the bill.

  I finished off my drink, and ordered another. Dutch came over, and we started talking about last week’s Giants game. Lola was really soaking down those sloe gins. About a half hour passed by, and she could hardly sit on the stool. She leaned over, and whispered into my ear to call her a cab. Lola said it was time for her to go home, and hit the sack. She pointed out that there was no need for me to escort her home, and that I should stay here with my friends. In fact, she insisted. I phoned for a cab. The taxi arrived about five minutes later. Lola clamped onto me all the way to the door of the hack. I pulled a five out of my wallet, and told the cabby to make sure that she got to the apartment alright. He nodded, and they took off. I walked back into the lounge, knocking off the rest of my brew.

  A cold wind blew past me as the door opened to let in one of the most beautiful dames I had ever seen. She took a seat a couple of stools down from me. Her hair was a soft chestnut brown that shined like satin. The dress she wore looked like it had been painted on, and the diamonds around her neck glistened against her creamy skin. What an eyeful! She looked the picture of innocence. Yet, she had the glint of the devil in her eyes. I turned back to my drink, and then heard a woman’s voice, “Do you have a light?”

  I answered her with a, “Yeah,” and flicked out my lighter. The flame lit up her face revealing flawless and stunning features. I started up a conversation like any normal male would.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “I have been here a couple of times.” How about you?”

  With that, she moved to the barstool next to mine. Our chatter continued, and we got pretty chummy. We danced a couple of times, and she held me as if she wanted to become part of me. Finally, she asked me to drive her home. I’m a good sport, but she wasn’t fooling me. No gorgeous broad was going to come in a joint like this, by herself, unless she was here to sell her body, or for some other sinister reason. In addition, she especially wouldn’t pick out a face like mine to start a conversation with. I had a feeling she was one of Dragon’s girls. It smelled foul, but I was gonna play along whether she was, or wasn’t. We slid off the stools, and walked out the door. She held my arm as we strolled to the car, and when we entered, she molded into the bucket seat even smoother than Lola. I said, “Where to?”

  Her lips parted and said, “South Ponfield Road in Bronxville.” I turned the wheel, and hit the gas.

  The ride lasted about fifteen minutes. Not many words were spoken, but she had love glowing in her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t one of the Dragon’s girls after all… Nah! Just before I stopped at her apartment, I noticed, through my rearview mirror, a car pulling over about a hundred feet behind me. I was walking into a trap…but what a tempting trap.

  She looked at me seductively, and asked if I would come up for a drink. I viewed her body. The babe fluttered her eyes, and puckered her lips. I knew that I was coming up even if it was a trap. We got out of the car, and walked into the large, white marbled lobby. I followed her to the elevator watching her little ass move. She pressed the third floor button, and we whizzed up. I took the key from her hand, and opened the door. Let me tell ya, she lived in a very swank layout.

  I took off my jacket while she mixed the drinks. When she turned around, she acted surprised when she saw my rig in the shoulder holster. She eased toward the couch, and beckoned me to it though she knew I didn’t need any urging. I heard a faint rustle from the other room, but acted as if I didn’t. I turned the light out, and we commenced with the kissing. My arm reached around behind her, and I pulled the little zipper down. She pushed me off of her, stood up, and took off her dress. My eyes must have been bugging out of their sockets. She laid back down on the couch, and asked me to come to her again, but this time I said, “Wait a minute I have some nasty business to do first.”

  I eased over to the door of the room from where the noise had come. My .45 made its way into my hand, and I rammed the door open with my shoulder as if I was a linebacker. He must have been ready to pounce on me, because when I flung the door open, it sent him flying. That was too bad for him. The old saying goes, “He who hesitates is lost.” I didn’t know who he was, but he had a .38 with a silencer attached, in his fist. I kicked it out of his hand, and put my .45 between his eyes. Instead of killing the thug, I rocked the semi-automatic into the bridge of his nose. It sounded like a piece of iron hitting a tire. He was out cold.

  But now I had another problem. I felt a piece of cold steel in my back, and it wasn’t a pipe. I turned around to see the babe with a gun aimed at my gut. It looked so cute. There she was half-nude, with a little .25 in her hand. I slapped the rod out of her mitt before she knew I had even moved.

  I threw her on the bed. On her own initiative, she removed the rest of her undergarments. She was better looking with her clothes off. This was gonna be a pleasure, and she laid there, with her legs apart, waiting for me. Before I jumped in bed with her, I walked over to the clown on the floor, and gave him another knot in the head with my .45, so he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of something. I took off my rig, and locked the door. She just laid on the bed watching me. I could see in her face that she was excited, and ready for action.

  * * *

  CH 11 Broken Arms and Broken Heads.