Kill Her with Love by Gardner F. Fox

Author:Gardner F. Fox [Fox, Gardner F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sexpionage, Secret agent, femme fatale, Erotica, Vintage Sleaze
Publisher: Gardner Francis Fox Library
Published: 2019-12-22T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

My sandwich was surprisingly good. I finished my coffee and went into the phone booth to call the Charleston Airport for a reservation back to New York City. Unfortunately, all flights had been canceled because of the heavy fog. I made a reservation for the next morning at nine-thirty and hoped that the fog would lift by then.

So I was going to be stuck in Brewster for the night. I asked the waitress if there were any hotels in town. “Ain’t no hotels, but there is the Mountain Motel. It’s out on the Mile Ground aways. You can’t miss it. It’s the only place we got here in Brewster where you can stay.”

I paid my check, went back to the car and followed the waitress’s directions to the Mountain Motel. It was a long, low cinder-block building of twelve units—six on either side of an office. It appeared that I was the only customer. There would probably be more business when the bars closed at midnight. I went into the office. A middle-aged woman wearing a house dress was seated behind a counter watching a rerun situation comedy on a portable television set.

“Evenin’,” she said and looked over my shoulder as if she expected somebody else. “Are you alone?”

“That’s right. I’d like to rent a room for the night. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

“That’ll be six dollars in advance.”

I paid her and signed the register. She pushed up the hinged counter-top and waddled out of the office to take me to number three. She opened the door and I was pleasantly relieved to find the room and the bath were at least clean and comfortable-looking.

“You’re not from around these parts, are ya’?” the slovenly woman asked.

“No, I’m from New York City.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “New York City. What on earth would you be doing way down here?”

“Business,” I replied briskly.

“I went to school with a girl who lives in New York City.”

“Oh,” I replied, uninterested.

“Yeah. She went up there to be a big-time actress or something. She didn’t make it, but she hooked herself a wealthy guy. You probably know who I mean—I think his name is Perrault. He runs a sexy magazine.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard of him,” I replied.

“Well, she went up there and hooked him. Her name’s Camilla Frost. You ever hear of her?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Hell, I went to high school with her.”

I stared at the woman incredulously. I had thought she was middle-aged. Talk about letting yourself go to pot. She looked like she was forty-five years old, worn-out and nasty. I didn’t mention that Camilla had been killed. Evidently the woman hadn’t known it and I didn’t feel like telling her.

“Yeah, Camilla thought she was really something. Her family was as poor as potatoes. I even gave her a pair of shoes one Christmas because she didn’t have anything to wear—no one could ever say Juanita Harper wasn’t generous—but when I happened to mention that they had been mine, she stopped wearing them. She was always too proud for the likes of around here.

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