Read Online The Body Lovers by Mickey Spillane - Free Book Online Page A

right. It’s better if we cover all the angles. There’s no reason for anybody else to take it from that end except you. I hope you come up with something.”
    I took the photo of Greta Service from my pocket and held it out to Hy. “Your bunch can help out. How about running off a batch of these and passing them around. Somebody might spot her around Manhattan. And get the original back to my office. I’d like an excuse to see that McInnes doll again when I hand it back.”
    Hy nodded and grinned. “Not that it’ll do you any good, kid. She’s class and you don’t fit in that kind of company. You’d have to wear a monkey suit and there wouldn’t be any place to hide that damn gun you carry.”
     
    Pat met me in his office, his hair mussed and shadows under his eyes, looking like he had been up all night. He said, “Sit down,” answered the phone twice, then leaned back in his chair and wiped the back of his hand across his face. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”
    “Who’s on your back now?”
    “You must be kidding. I told you this was an election year. Everybody’s passing the buck this time. That Temple kill really stirred the fudge.”
    “Got anything on it yet?”
    He shook his head slowly. “Nothing but boxes of women’s nightgowns. We hit all the stores they were bought at and most of the salesgirls remembered selling them, but that’s about all. Mitch told the girls he was trying to match one a friend bought for his wife and looked for a description of anyone who bought either black or green, but both colors were so popular the girls couldn’t come up with anything concrete.”
    “Why did he bother buying them then?”
    “Got me. Probably just to make it look good. Come here, take a look.”
    The office next to Pat’s was empty, but the desk and chair were piled high with empty boxes and a table along the wall was covered with a mound of filmy garments. I went over and separated them, looking at the labels. None were expensive, but the designs were clearly erotic and not intended for the average housewife. Half the pile were black numbers, the rest all shades of red, green and blue with two canary yellow styles.
    “Find out which one he bought last?”
    “No. Four of the sales slips were dated the same day he died and all were bought in the morning, but nobody could pinpoint the time. Each one of those stores sold a bunch of these things to men and women the same day. We have a team out trying to nail something down, but all we get is a big, fat zero. Why the hell do these things have to be so complicated?”
    “Wish I could help.”
    “Don’t do me any favors,” Pat said. “I’m still getting nudged by the brains upstairs about how you happened to be the one to find the Delaney girl.”
    “What’s new on her?”
    “One thing for sure ... neither she nor the Poston girl were identified as buyers of those gowns. We got a make on the Delaney kid by way of left field. About a month ago Vice raided a pornographic photography ring selling sixteen-millimeter stag reels and she was one of the featured players. One of our guys recognized her. The ones who sold the stuff couldn’t put a finger on the ones who filmed it, but there was a scene with a window in the background that spotted certain buildings and we were able to locate the hotel they made it in. Right now we have a partial description of the ones who occupied the place and have the hotel covered in case they show again.”
    “Fat chance. That bunch shift around.”
    “It’s the only chance we have. Dames who make money that way don’t pay social security and rarely use their own names. We still got the body on ice. She has one distant relative in Oregon who wants nothing to do with the situation, so there we stand.”
    “And the Poston woman?”
    “You know that angle.”
    “Don’t tell me you aren’t digging into probable sources of the poison that might have killed her.”
    Pat relaxed and grinned at me.