They said I was going soft, just taking the easy cases. Fancy parlours in fancy hotels. Fifty dollar drinks and organic peanuts. Dames with $300 haircuts and a couple of husbands buried in the yard offering to buy me a drink. Yeah, they were right. It was getting to be too easy and you can’t go soft in this business. I had to get out for a drink on the dark side of New York City, where the real people go.
I called the broad. We’d worked on some cases before. She was good for this kind of assignment and she knew the seamy side of town. A gentlemen doesn’t ask how. It didn’t hurt that she looked good. She had the kind of looks that would make a catholic priest go straight; legs that went on for ever, soft hair and coal black eyes. Yet she was hard as nails….Read More