Read Online Flesh by Richard Laymon - Free Book Online

of chimes playing the opening bars of Beethoven’s Fifth.
    Harold Standish opened the door, stepped back, raised his hands high and said, “Don’t shoot.”
    Jake stared at him. The man’s routine hadn’t been amusing the first time he pulled it, over a year ago. It had become less amusing with each repetition. This morning, it gave Jake an urge to tear off Harold’s trim little mustache.
    “Just pulling your leg, Jako. Come on in. The little woman’s getting the Kimmer ready for her big day.”
    Jake stepped onto the marble foyer.
    Harold headed for the living room, walking sideways and smiling, keeping his eyes on Jake—apparently afraid to turn his back. Jake had never spoken a sharp word to the man, had certainly never threatened or assaulted him. But Haroldknew what he had done. And, quite obviously, he knew what he deserved.
    What Harold did not know was that Jake had never blamed him for the situation. It might have been different if he’d seduced Barbara with good looks and charm, but Harold was a skinny guy with a receding hairline, a nose like a turkey’s beak, and all the charm of a field mouse. He was a wimp. A wimp who made big bucks filling teeth. And Barbara, not Harold, had been the seducer.
    She hadn’t dumped Jake for a man. She’d dumped him for a handsome bank balance and plastic cards with dreamy credit lines. Harold was a piece of excess baggage that came along with the good stuff.
    If it hadn’t been Harold, it would’ve been someone else.
    Barbara was the one who deserved…
    “Could I get you some coffee, a sweet roll?” Harold asked.
    “No thanks.”
    Harold sat on a recliner, but didn’t settle back. He stayed on the edge of the seat as if ready to rush off, and cupped his hands over his knees. “So,” he said.
    Jake sat on the sofa.
    “So, how are things in law enforcement business? Keeping the criminals in line?”
    “We try.” Apparently, Harold hadn’t heard about last night. That was fine with Jake.
    Harold nodded as if pondering the response. He gazed at the floor. He seemed nervous about the silence. Afraid Jake might take the opportunity to bring up an unpleasant topic, such as adultery? Ah, he must’ve thought of something. His eyebrows lifted and he looked at Jake. “How do you feel about the handgun initiative?”
    “I’m against it.”
    “One would think that a man in your line of work, who sees the tragedies caused by private ownership of guns—”
    “We had a seventy-two-year-old widow, last month, who woke up to find a stranger in her bedroom with a knife inone hand and a hard-on in the other. She shot him four times with a pistol she kept on her nightstand. Me, I’m glad she had the gun.”
    “But statistics show—”
    “Save it, Harold. You want the bad guys to win, that’s your business.”
    Harold dared a condescending smile. With a shake of his head, he stood up. “I’ll see what’s keeping the ladies,” he said, and backed out of the living room.
    He was no sooner gone than Barbara came in.
    “Tag team?” Jake asked. He felt sick. He always felt sick when he saw her, but this morning was worse than usual because of what she wore.
    “Kimmy’s almost ready,” she said.
    “Fine,” he muttered, staring at Barbara and wondering what the hell she was trying to do.
    She wore a blue silk kimono. Its front was open, showing a long V of bare skin all the way down to the sash at her waist. The glossy fabric shimmered from the motion of her breasts. Turning away from Jake, she crossed the living room. The kimono was very short. At the far side of the draperies, she reached high to pull the draw cord and the garment lifted above the pale curves of her buttocks. The draperies skidded open. She lowered her arms, and the fabric drifted down.
    “Real cute,” Jake said.
    Whirling around, she glared at him.
    Jake smiled. His mouth felt rigid. His chest ached.
    “Problem?” she said.
    His smile died. “You’re some piece of work,