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As I moved along into 1958 I was, as already noted, just as productive as ever, but the publishing environment I found myself in was starting to get a little dicey, with most of the science-fiction magazines that had been my mainstays beginning to go out of business. It was a good thing that Trapped and Guilty were still chugging right along.
“Keep Away From My Daughter” was one of the two I wrote for Scottie in May, 1958—actually a couple of months before “Joyride to Hell” —but my backlog of accepted stories was getting so big that he wasn’t able to use it until a month later, in the March, 1959 Guilty, where it ran under my pseudonym of Richard F. Watson.
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KEEP AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER
Frank had plans for his daughter, wanted no delinquent.
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Frank Mathison had a small delicatessen store in downtown Cincinnati, and he had a daughter named Nola, and those two things, the store and his daughter, were the only things in the world that meant anything to him. The store brought in a good income year after year—nothing tremendous, but enough to keep him living the way he wanted to live. He was a man of simple tastes, and his wife had died years ago.
As for the daughter, she had very quickly ripened into a woman, much to Frank Mathison’s surprise. He still remembered her as the tiny dark-haired thing he had bounced playfully on his knee. Now she was eighteen, and she had graduated from high school and was working in a big local firm as a secretary. She was a tall girl, slightly taller than her short father, and she had a woman’s full body, with firm breasts and flaring hips and red, pouting lips. When Mathison looked at her in the mornings, as she flounced around the house wearing only a light wrap, he knew that Nola had grown up.
He was resigned to the fact that he would have to lose her soon. She was too lovely, too female, to remain with him much longer. He had high hopes that she would make a good marriage, perhaps catch one of the young unmarried executives of the firm for which she worked. With her body she could marry well, he thought. Have a good home in the suburbs and many children, and perhaps she would visit her old father every now and then.
Frank Mathison would delight himself with daydreams about his daughter’s future husband. Sometimes he would be vice-president of the bank, and other times he would be a famous writer or actor. He knew his daughter was something special, and he was sure she would make a match that he could boast of.
That was why it hurt him so much when one of his oldest customers and closest friends said to him one day while buying in his store, “I think I saw your daughter in the movie theater last night. She was with—well, I suppose you know all about it, Frank.”
Mathison’s eyes went wide with sudden surprise. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dorothy. You saw my Nola at the movies?”
“I’m sure it was her.”
“She said she was going over to a girlfriend’s house to watch television.”
“You better keep an eye on that girl, Frank. She was at the movies with Tommy McAffrey or else I need my glasses fixed.”
“Who is this Tommy McAffrey?” Mathison asked.
“A local tough. A punk—you know, one of these teenage gangster-kids.”
“No,” Mathison whispered. “Not my Nola! She’s a good girl! She wouldn’t go out with anyone like that!”
But the only reply he got was a pitying smile.
–
He closed up the store early that night, and got home by six. Nola was already there, efficiently getting supper ready for herself and her father. Mathison eyed her in silence for a while. She was really beautiful, he thought. And he had been happy that she went on so few dates. She was waiting for the right man to come along, he had thought, and would have nothing to do with the town riff-raff.
Finally he could contain himself no more. At the dinner table he said, “Nola, honey?”
“Yes, Pa?”
“Do you know a boy named Tommy McAffrey?”
From the expression on her face he knew that she did. But she reddened and stammered and said, “McAffrey?” I don’t know what you mean, Pa?”
“Don’t lie to your father. Who’s Tommy McAffrey, Nola?”
Her embarrassment was obvious. She said, “Why—uh—I guess he’s one of the boys I went to high school with. Yeah. He was a class ahead of me, I think.”
His jaw set firmly. Inside him he felt sick and sore to think that his darling Nola could be doing this to him. “You went to the movies with Tommy McAffrey last night, Nola. And you told me you were going over to Jeanie’s house to watch television with her.”
“Pa, I—”
“Don’t lie to me, Nola. Someone saw you there with him. Don’t make things any worse for yourself by trying to lie.”
She was silent for almost half-a minute. Then she said, finally, “Okay, Pa. You win. I went to the movies with Tommy McAffrey. I’ve been dating him for quite a while.”
“And not telling me.”
“I knew you’d make a fuss if I did. I figured you wouldn’t approve of him, Pa.”
“He’s one of these gang boys isn’t he?” he asked coldly. “A two-bit mobster. Is that the kind of boy you like to go to the movies with?”
“Oh, Pa, you’re all wrong about Tommy! Sure, he has some tough friends—but he’s a good kid! All he needs is a break—a good job—”
“He’s trash,” Mathison said. “None of those boys are any good. I forbid you to see him again.”
“Pa, be reasonable! I’m eighteen years old! I’m grown up, practically! And—”
“You should be dating good boys. Thinking about getting married. Not running to the movies with no-good gangsters.”
“Pa, Tommy is a good boy!” Color came defiantly to her face. “There isn’t anyone better in the world! You can’t stop me from seeing him!”
“I order you!”
She didn’t answer. She simply threw her fork down to the table with a loud crash, got up so fast her chair fell over, and ran to her room. Mathison heard the door slam shut.
He sat for a long time at the table. So his darling, his daughter, his pride, was running around with cheap hoodlums! And defying him, too! He felt sick. He wondered whether this Tommy McAffrey had ruined his daughter already. Maybe he had. Frank Mathison’s whole world shattered in a moment.
He could not eat. He stared at the food on his plate for a while, then he got up and scraped it all into the garbage pail. He went to his room and stared at the wall until it was time to go to bed.
–
At nine the next morning, after he had opened the store but before the first customer had come in, Frank Mathison went to the phone in the back and dialed the police. He asked to speak to Captain Jacobs—an old schoolmate of his who had risen to a high position in the local precinct.
“Ted? This is Frank Mathison. Wonder if you could do me a little favor?”
“Any time, Frank. What’s up?”
“I’d like to find out a little about a kid who lives in this neighborhood. I want to know if he’s got a police record, any sort of thing like that.”
There was silence for a second or two. Then Jacobs said, “You know, Frank, police files are supposed to be confidential. Any special reason you want me to hunt this stuff up for you?”
Mathison reddened. It was impossible to tell anyone about his daughter and McAffrey. On the spur of the moment he invented a reason. “This kid came in here looking for a job yesterday,” he lied. “I can use an extra hand around here, you know. But this kid looked—well, tough. I wouldn’t want to hire him if he’s got any sort of record, you understand.”
“Sure, Frank. You want the information as a character reference. Well, it’s a little irregular, but I’ll see what I can do. What’s the kid’s name?”
“McAffrey. Tommy McAffrey.”
Jacobs repeated the name. “Okay, Frank. Hold the line and I’ll check our youth files. Won’t be more than a minute.”
“Fine.”
A few minutes later, Jacobs returned to the phone. “I wouldn’t recommend giving that kid a job, Frank. Not unless you were really hard up for an employee.”
Mathison felt his stomach tighten. “How come?”
“He’s been up on a couple of petty charges. Breaking and entering when he was fourteen, minor vandalism when he was seventeen. That was two years back. He’s on probation now—hasn’t been in trouble in a couple of years. But there’s a note on his record that he’s stubborn and unruly, and might get into trouble again at any time.”
“Oh,” Frank Mathison said in a weak voice. “Thanks for the help, Ted. Thanks a lot.”
He hung up.
Now he felt sicker than ever. So the boy had a record! He was on probation! And Nola was dating him. In Mathison’s eyes the boy was little less than a murderer.
That night he said nothing to Nola until they were finished with dinner. Then she said, “I’m going out, Pa.”
“Like hell you are.”
“But I have a date! I’m—”
“Go on,” he said bitterly. “You’re going over to Jeanie’s to watch television. I’ll bet!”
She flushed. “All right, no! I’m going bowling with Tommy! I don’t have to hide it from you.”
“You’re not going out of this house tonight.”
“Pa!”
He folded his arms. He knew she would not dare to defy him. She burst into tears, but he was unmoved. He wondered how many times his daughter, his child, his baby, had slept with Tommy McAffrey and had let him fondle her body.
“At least let me call him, Pa. Otherwise he’ll think I’m standing him up!”
“No.”
He refused to let her use the phone. He refused to let her out the front door. And he stayed up half the night, listening to make sure she did not try to sneak out to meet her lover after he was asleep.
–
The next day, around lunchtime, a strange boy came into the store. He was about nineteen or twenty, tall and broad-shouldered, with red hair and freckles. Mathison knew who he was the moment the boy entered.
“Are you Mr. Mathison?”
“Yes.”
The boy looked nervous. “My name is Tommy McAffrey,” he said. “Maybe Nola told you about me.”
“Nola told me nothing. What I know, I found out for myself.”
The boy reddened in embarrassment. “Look, Mr. Mathison, I don’t know what you’ve got against me. Nola just told me you wouldn’t let her out of the house last night. She says you think I’m a gangster.”
“You have a police record.”
“But that was years ago! I was a kid then! I was wild when I was a kid, but I’m not that way any more. Honest, Mr. Mathison. Weren’t you ever a kid once? Didn’t you do crazy things?”
“You have no right coming into my store and talking this way.”
The boy shook his head. “Please listen to me! Nola and I like each other an awful lot. We don’t want you to get sore because we—we see each other. Look, give me a chance, Mr. Mathison. All I need is a job somewhere. You don’t know how hard it is for a kid to find a job now. Everybody looks at you as if you’re practically a rapist or a murderer, and they say they don’t want you even if they need someone!
“I’m not interested in your troubles,” Mathison said.
“No, nobody is. So we drift around the streets because we can’t get jobs, and even if we aren’t really bad, we get that way because there’s nothing else to do.”
“Look—”
The boy cut him off. “Give me a chance, Mr. Mathison. Nola says you need a boy to help in the store. Take me on, pay me thirty or forty a week or anything at all. Let me show you I’m fit to keep company with your daughter.”
Mathison was silent for a moment.
“Well?” the boy said.
“Here’s your answer,” Mathison said. “Get out of my store, and get out fast. And keep away from my daughter! You hear? Keep away!”
–
But Tommy McAffrey did not keep away. When he came home that night, he found a note on the kitchen table saying that his daughter had gone out to have a talk with Tommy McAffrey. Mathison waited up for her with bitter anger boiling in him.
She came home at eleven that night.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“I went to see Tommy. We had a talk about things.”
“I ordered you not to see him again. You’re defying me, Nola.”
“I love him, Pa.”
His eyes narrowed. “How can you talk that way about scum of the gutter? Love? You don’t know what love is! Love is working for years so your daughter can have a good home, nice clothes—and what do you get in return? You get laughed at!”
He clenched and unclenched his hands. He knew what he should do—rip her clothes off and give her a good tanning on her bare rump. But you did not do that to a girl of eighteen. She deserved it, but Frank Mathison could not do that to her.
Instead he ordered her to bed. He lay awake tossing half the night. Something had to be done, he thought. It had to be done fast. She was openly defiant now—sneaking out of the house to see McAffrey. If he didn’t take steps, and take them fast, they would elope before he knew it. Or Nola would find herself pregnant.
Frank Mathison sighed bitterly. He had never dreamed that his own daughter would do a thing like this to him. He was so confident that Nola was going to grow up into a good girl, the kind who a father could be proud of.
Not into a tramp.
That was all she was, he thought. A common tramp. His own daughter. He thought about the impudent youngster who had come into his own store to ask for a job! Into his own store!
Something had to be done, Frank Mathison told himself over and over again. Something to prevent his daughter from disgracing herself and him and the memory of his wife, something to keep this McAffrey boy from seeing Nola any more.
Finally Frank Mathison fell asleep.
–
It was noon the following day. Business had been pretty slow that morning, but Frank Mathison was glad of that. In the old days, when his heart had been light, he had always had a good word for each customer, always a little quip or joke. But since he had found out about Nola, he had not been able to act lighthearted at all. Some of the customers thought he was so sick, the way he acted.
He was sick. Sick with bitterness and misery, because of Nola.
At noon the store was empty. Mathison was behind the counter, fixing a salami sandwich for his own lunch, when the front door tinkled as someone pushed it open. Mathison put down the sandwich and the big carving knife.
His heart was pounding as he saw who had entered his store. It was Tommy McAffrey.
“I told you never to bother me again,” Mathison said coldly.
“I’m sorry sir. Nola and me, we don’t mean to rile you up. It’s just that—”
“It’s just that nothing! My daughter is too good to be wasted on a common thug!”
The boy scowled angrily. “I told you I wasn’t a hood, Mr. Mathison. That I could be okay if someone would only give me a job. But you turned me down. You told me to get out.”
“And I still want you to get out.”
McAffrey shook his head. “I came here to tell you something, Mr. Mathison.”
“Make it quick.”
“Nola and I are in love. Don’t start shouting; it’s true. We want to get married.”
“I—”
“Hear me out, Mr. Mathison. You can’t stop us, you know. You can try, but Nola and I can sneak away when you’re not looking. In this day and age you can’t keep a grown daughter locked up like she was a prisoner.”
“You’re threatening to run off with my daughter, is that it?” Mathison said.
“No sir. I’m just telling you we could. We could have run off last night, you know. She wouldn’t have come back. We could go to some other town, get married, maybe I could get a job. But we didn’t want to do it that way, you see.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
The boy put his hands on the counter and leaned forward until his face was inches from Mathison’s. Vicious little hoodlum, Mathison thought.
“You see, sir, we want to do it the right way. With your permission. Let me come to work here—it’ll be good to have a son-in-law in the business—and when I’ve saved enough, I’ll marry Nola and we’ll settle down in this city near you.”
Mathison nodded slowly. “A son-in-law in the business. And grandchildren, too.”
The boy’s face brightened. “I don’t want to make trouble for anybody. The things I did when I was a kid, well, I regret them now. And—”
Mathison looked out. The street outside seemed deserted. Nobody around.
He took a deep breath.
Something had to be done.
He said, “Maybe I’ve misjudged you, son. I guess I’ve been too harsh. The shock of finding out my little girl was in love—I guess it made me feel that I had to put my foot down.”
Tommy McAffrey smiled. “I knew you’d come around, Mr. Mathison. I didn’t want to make trouble for you. But I loved Nola so much, and everything—”
“Of course, Tommy, of course.”
“So you’ll change your mind about—about us?”
“I think so. I can’t fight it, can I? So I might as well give in gracefully.”
“And you’ll give me a job here, Mr. Mathison?”
Mathison nodded. “You can start tomorrow. And let me give you a little something as a kind of an advance, just to show I mean well.”
“Oh, gee, you don’t have to —”
“Yes. I insist.”
–
Breathing deeply and trying not to let the tension in him become visible, Mathison crossed to his left, where the cash register was. He rang up NO SALE and opened the register. The boy was watching him eagerly.
Mathison’s fingers tightened on the little .38 he had bought so many years ago, the gun he had kept loaded in the store without ever using it. He was going to use it now.
He took the gun out of the drawer and closed the cash register. The boy’s eyes went wide at the sight of the weapon, and he froze.
Mathison said, “I warned you to keep away from my daughter. You think I’d let her sleep with trash like you?”
Mathison raised the gun and fired. He saw the horrified look on the boy’s face, and then a moment later the bullet crashed into that face, blotting it out.
Mathison was shaking all over. The boy had crumpled up in the middle of the store. Mathison grabbed up the big meat-knife from the counter, ran around in front, and carefully stuffed the knife into the boy’s half-closed hand, tucking the fingers tight around it.
Still shaking, he went back behind the counter, picked up the phone, dialed the police.
“Captain Jacobs, please. Frank Mathison calling.”
A moment later he heard Jacob’s voice say, “What is it, Frank?”
“You remember that boy I asked you about—Tommy McAffrey?”
“Yeah.”
“He just came into my store, Ted. Tried to hold me up. Grabbed up one of my own knives and threatened me. I—I keep a gun behind the counter. I shot him and I think he’s dead.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Except for a bad case of the jitters, that is.”
“I can understand how you must feel,” Jacobs said. “You had a lucky escape. We’ll send a truck right over to get the body.”
“Thanks, Ted.”
“The dirty little scum! He was no good, all right. Well, now we’re rid of him!”
“Yes,” Mathison said. He hung up the phone. Now we’re rid of him, he thought. I warned him to keep away from my daughter. I warned him.
Frank Mathison looked at the body in the middle of the floor. The boy had never known what hit him. I warned him, he thought again.
He thought about Nola. Nola would take it hard. Well, let her. It would teach her a lesson, not to pal around with trash. Maybe next time she fell in love, it would be with a good boy, the kind you could be proud to have in the family.