Murder by Candlelight Read Online Free PDF Page B

would have, if he were the
blushing kind. They'd been on a job together, Jamie hunting the
source of a "ghost light," Z hired as her muscle. They'd spent a
lot of nights in this abandoned house; just the two of
them.
    Predictably, with Jamie's sexual
appetites ....
    Fun, but dangerous, Susan
the kind of woman to make a "ghost" of Z if she caught him
cheating.
    Not that Z's playing house with Jamie
was his fault -- it wasn't. Given the intimate situation, any man
would have ....
    Females!
    Why they couldn't figure
out that sex had
nothing to do with love , Z didn't know. Even bright women, like Susan.
    There was Paula, for instance, Z's ex.
....
    But that was going far afield with Bud
there beside him, a hang-dog expression on the big man's, little
boy face.
    "So?" Z had to learn more.
    "It was like this." Bud looked all
around to make sure no one was listening, like men did when they
were about to embarrass themselves. "At the tavern a couple of
weeks ago, this beautiful young girl came in. Blond. Big tits. But
not showing them off more than what was tasteful. Friendly, you
know?
    "Had to be a hooker, but with class.
Real class, you know?"
    Z nodded. "Had legs on her like they
was goin' out of style, what I could see of 'em from behind the
bar. She had them crossed, you see. Short skirt slit up to China."
Z nodded. B-girl. Had to be. "I was paying her the kind of
attention a girl like that deserves."
    In spite of himself, Bud smiled, a
grin the size of coal lumps on the biggest snowman in the world.
"And -- don't laugh -- she was comin' on to me, too."
    Far from being surprised, Z was
thinking that's what working girls did. Work.
    "So I was gettin' all
heated up like I hadn't been in years. I'm gettin' older. We all
are. Not so easy to get it up as it was when we were kids." Z hoped
Bud didn't think he was speaking for everyone their age! "So I hardly
noticed this other guy that come in to sit at the bar. But then, I
did. 'Cause he began tryin' to get the girl's attention,
too."
    "Joy-girl have a name?"
    "Yeah. Her name was Carrara Marble.
Beautiful, ain't it."
    Z nodded. Maybe the
girl did have a
sort of class. After all, "Carrara" was the expensive kind of
marble Michelangelo used for his important sculptures.
    Back before Z and Susan were
officially dating, Susan had gotten Z to go to Kansas City's Nelson
Art Gallery. (This was after Z took a slug in the lung from Susan's
crazy ex, the bullet putting Z in the hospital -- and almost in the
ground.)
    To recover, he'd had to walk a lot.
Slowly.
    What better place to walk out of the
weather than the art gallery, a grateful Susan suggested. You try
to walk slowly in a mall and health-chasing grandmas ran you
down.
    Z hadn't known anything
about art at the time, but with Susan beside him to explain what he
was seeing, had learned. More than learned; had come to love the
gallery.
    The silent, beautiful
rooms.
    The antique armor.
    The Greek lion in the Ancient History
room.
    Particularly, the Monet.
    Back to the present.
    Called herself Carrara
Marble, did she? Maybe the chippy was as classy as Bud Izard said, the
kind of hundred-dollar hooker that those "in the life" called a
racehorse.
    "Well," Bud continued, swallowing
hard, "she don't give the other man the time of day, see? And I
could tell he was gettin' mad.
    "Now, he's a little guy, so I don't
expect no trouble." Bud stopped suddenly. Looked at Z. Hard. "But
maybe you know him? He was in your class." Bud looked back at the
party shed. "He's not here today, the little bastard. I was careful
to look. Name of Howard Kunkle?"
    Z shook his head. With four-hundred
students in his graduating class ...?
    "So pretty soon," Bud continued, "this
Kunkle leaves. And to tell the truth, the girl leaves shortly
after. She was just waitin'. Had a rich trick in the neighborhood,
would be my guess. So I got to admit it. Maybe she wasn't coming on
to me as much as I figured. Was just being nice, you know? You
don't expect that from a whore.