Gladyss of the Hunt Read Online Free PDF

just because she had learned intimate details of some celebrities’ lives, a sentimental osmosis had mysteriously occurred: She must’ve thought that they had come to know, and more specifically care, about her.
    Finally Noel got to his current endeavor, a crime flick called Fashion Dogs . It was his twelfth starring film, he told me; it costarred Venezia Ramada and was directed by Crispin Marachino. He told me he was meeting the two of them shortly, then talked about his role in the new film.
    â€œLet me get this straight,” I said, after listening to his summary of the plot. “You play a male fashion model who is also an undercover cop?”
    â€œHe’s only an amateur model,” Noel said earnestly.
    â€œOh, that sounds likely,” I said. Cops were notoriously unfashionable.
    â€œActually, Crispin has got me doing the catwalk for Anton Rocmarni during Fashion Week to publicize the movie.”
    â€œWow.”
    â€œI just read in the newspaper that they finally convicted the Green River Killer after all these years,” he said out of the blue.
    â€œYeah, I read about that too.”
    â€œHe killed forty-eight hookers in the 80s and only just got caught ’cause of DNA testing.”
    â€œI heard he pled to forty-nine murders. Did he get sentenced yet?”
    â€œYeah, it was a plea bargain, life imprisonment.” He sounded almost gleeful. “Forty-nine murdered girls and not even the death penalty.”
    â€œThat is unbelievable.” Sentencing in America did frequently seem arbitrary.
    â€œThe thing is: forty-nine murders and suddenly he just stops? I mean he hasn’t murdered anyone in nearly twenty years.” Noel said blithely. “God, he must have been attending Murderers Anonymous meetings to keep from making it a round fifty.”
    I could’ve pointed out that the killer actually claimed he’d killed many more than fifty women. Instead I said, “I find it a little distressing that you find that so amusing.”
    â€œCome on, this country is obsessed with crime. It’s entertainment. Law & Order and all those shows are huge. Isn’t that one of the reasons you became a cop?”
    He had a point.
    â€œWould you mind if I asked you some professional questions?” I asked.
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œLike why were you having lunch at DiCarlo’s at nine this morning?”
    â€œIt was closer to ten, and I was hungry.”
    â€œIt looked like you were finishing a dinner.”
    â€œYou know, as a movie actor I can have all the sex, drugs, and rock & roll that I want, but I can’t eat a thing. I basically have to starve myself. But every so often I lose it and go on a binge.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œNope. And this morning I totally lost it.”
    â€œSomething to share at your Overeaters Anonymous meeting.”
    â€œNo, all the food comes out of the same hole it goes in, usually within the hour.”
    â€œOh God, really?”
    â€œIf you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”
    â€œWhat sets off your binges?” I asked.
    â€œGuilt,” he said earnestly. “Profound guilt . . . but also they have great food there.”
    â€œGuilt over what?”
    â€œOnly my priest will ever know that.”
    â€œWhat were you doing across the street just now?”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œYeah, a few minutes ago, when you saw me. What were you doing there?”
    â€œI just withdrew some money from the ATM on the corner.”
    â€œYou don’t still have the receipt, do you?”
    He pulled off a glove and started rummaging through the pockets of his overcoat. Although I was suspicious of him, I was also curious to see how far I could push him before he’d tell me to fuck off. To my surprise he produced the ATM receipt. It was for a two hundred dollar withdrawal, timed about a minute before we met.
    â€œWhere were you last night?” I asked, figuring that