Read Online Dressed to Killed by Milton Ozaki - Free Book Online
Authors: Milton Ozaki
Tags: thriller, Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Mystery, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Hard-Boiled, Men's Adventure
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hurry up and stick it wherever you're going to stick it!"
"Sure thing." Pushing the bills back into the envelope, she sealed it, got a pen from a drawer, wrote a name and an address across it. Then she rummaged around in a purse and produced a strip of postage stamps. With a wink at me, she licked the stamps and plastered them across the envelope. "Be right back," she said gaily. Opening the door, she ran lightly down the corridor.
"Think you're smart, huh?" Richmond commented when she returned. "What'd you do, mail it to yourself?"
"Why should I tell you?" she asked, somewhat acidly. "It's my business what I do with it, ain't it?"
"Guess so." Richmond jerked his shoulders. "Let's get this over with, Fia. You know the program: Get him loaded. Take off a lot of the rags. Make like a party."
She paused in the act of opening a fresh bottle and gave me an arch look. "Sounds like fun, doesn't it, honey?"
"Shure," a blurred voice replied. It seemed to come from behind me. I twisted my head, trying to verify the source.
"Shure, kid," it said again, "lesh make shum party." A moment later: "Shay, ish me talking!"
"What you need is another drink!" she cried, laughing. "Here, have one on me!" She came toward me, executing the bump-and-grind routine again.
"Say, have you been lapping the stuff?" Richmond demanded.
"No, but it might be a good idea," she retorted. "You know, to make things look good." Raising the glass to her own lips, she sucked off a good third of its contents, shuddered, then took a smaller swallow as a chaser. "Now it's a loving cup," she giggled, forcing the glass between my lips. "You're supposed to drink all of it and then make a wish!"
I gulped obediently. "Brr. Wish he'd go 'way!"
"Sure, honey, we're going to get rid of him in a hurry," she promised, splashing more liquor into the glass. To Richmond, she added: "He's getting pretty loaded. You don't want him blind, do you?"
"Better give him another good slug," Richmond advised. "It might be an act."
"Look, honey, I got another loving cup for you!" She waved the glass beneath my nose, tilted it briefly to her lips, then held it against mine. "I'll even let you make another wish!"
"No more...!" The room was slipping and sliding around me and Richmond's bulky figure was rapidly going out of focus. "Pleash, no more!" I protested.
Hands, prodded me, pushed me, turned me over. Somewhere someone was laughing. I tried to crawl away from the laughter. It came closer and the laughter blurred into words: "Hey, lover boy, where do you think you're going?"
"You think he's got enough?" Richmond's voice asked worriedly.
"Jees, he don't know which end's up!"
"Okay, snuggle. Remember, make it look good. I'm going to beat it."
"How long'll it take them?"
"Fifteen-twenty minutes, maybe." A door opened and closed.
An instant later, a cool body wriggled close to me and slim arms encircled my waist, holding me tightly. A shoulder stung annoyingly. I tried to scratch it but, confusingly, the shoulder eluded my fingers and I seemed to be stroking her hair instead. The sting transferred itself to my neck. I tried to roll away, to avoid it, but the arms held me and the sting flickered about, like a persistent mosquito, returning from time to time to various places on my neck and chest.
Far away, I heard a banging noise.
The sting left me for a moment, then the weight of the world settled on my chest and my mouth began to hurt. I couldn't breathe. I tried to gasp for air, but her mouth was over mine. She was kissing me, grinding her body against mine. Drunkenly, I clasped her and tried to move my lips in rhythm with hers.
That's the way we were, I guess, when the cops broke in.
SIX. Real Gone Girl
I WAS SICK. Someone was slapping my face methodically, insistently. Cold water deluged over me and I cried out. Then I was sick again. After a brief respite, the slapping resumed. My insides squirmed, turned over, began to bubble. "There he goes again," a voice said
"Sure thing." Pushing the bills back into the envelope, she sealed it, got a pen from a drawer, wrote a name and an address across it. Then she rummaged around in a purse and produced a strip of postage stamps. With a wink at me, she licked the stamps and plastered them across the envelope. "Be right back," she said gaily. Opening the door, she ran lightly down the corridor.
"Think you're smart, huh?" Richmond commented when she returned. "What'd you do, mail it to yourself?"
"Why should I tell you?" she asked, somewhat acidly. "It's my business what I do with it, ain't it?"
"Guess so." Richmond jerked his shoulders. "Let's get this over with, Fia. You know the program: Get him loaded. Take off a lot of the rags. Make like a party."
She paused in the act of opening a fresh bottle and gave me an arch look. "Sounds like fun, doesn't it, honey?"
"Shure," a blurred voice replied. It seemed to come from behind me. I twisted my head, trying to verify the source.
"Shure, kid," it said again, "lesh make shum party." A moment later: "Shay, ish me talking!"
"What you need is another drink!" she cried, laughing. "Here, have one on me!" She came toward me, executing the bump-and-grind routine again.
"Say, have you been lapping the stuff?" Richmond demanded.
"No, but it might be a good idea," she retorted. "You know, to make things look good." Raising the glass to her own lips, she sucked off a good third of its contents, shuddered, then took a smaller swallow as a chaser. "Now it's a loving cup," she giggled, forcing the glass between my lips. "You're supposed to drink all of it and then make a wish!"
I gulped obediently. "Brr. Wish he'd go 'way!"
"Sure, honey, we're going to get rid of him in a hurry," she promised, splashing more liquor into the glass. To Richmond, she added: "He's getting pretty loaded. You don't want him blind, do you?"
"Better give him another good slug," Richmond advised. "It might be an act."
"Look, honey, I got another loving cup for you!" She waved the glass beneath my nose, tilted it briefly to her lips, then held it against mine. "I'll even let you make another wish!"
"No more...!" The room was slipping and sliding around me and Richmond's bulky figure was rapidly going out of focus. "Pleash, no more!" I protested.
Hands, prodded me, pushed me, turned me over. Somewhere someone was laughing. I tried to crawl away from the laughter. It came closer and the laughter blurred into words: "Hey, lover boy, where do you think you're going?"
"You think he's got enough?" Richmond's voice asked worriedly.
"Jees, he don't know which end's up!"
"Okay, snuggle. Remember, make it look good. I'm going to beat it."
"How long'll it take them?"
"Fifteen-twenty minutes, maybe." A door opened and closed.
An instant later, a cool body wriggled close to me and slim arms encircled my waist, holding me tightly. A shoulder stung annoyingly. I tried to scratch it but, confusingly, the shoulder eluded my fingers and I seemed to be stroking her hair instead. The sting transferred itself to my neck. I tried to roll away, to avoid it, but the arms held me and the sting flickered about, like a persistent mosquito, returning from time to time to various places on my neck and chest.
Far away, I heard a banging noise.
The sting left me for a moment, then the weight of the world settled on my chest and my mouth began to hurt. I couldn't breathe. I tried to gasp for air, but her mouth was over mine. She was kissing me, grinding her body against mine. Drunkenly, I clasped her and tried to move my lips in rhythm with hers.
That's the way we were, I guess, when the cops broke in.
SIX. Real Gone Girl
I WAS SICK. Someone was slapping my face methodically, insistently. Cold water deluged over me and I cried out. Then I was sick again. After a brief respite, the slapping resumed. My insides squirmed, turned over, began to bubble. "There he goes again," a voice said
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