Kill as Directed Read Free Page A

Karen was seated on the banquette, with Tony opposite her.
    â€œNotice that I’ve reserved the place of honor for you,” Tony said, his beautiful teeth laughing-white against his sunlamp-burned skin. “With Cupid sitting across the table beaming.” To the waiter who had moved the table aside to allow Harry to slip in beside Karen, Tony said, “Two vodka martinis for the doctor here, and another round for Mrs. Gresham and me.”
    â€œWhere’s Kurt?” Harry said. On the banquette seat, protected by the cloth, Karen’s hand was searching for his.
    â€œOh, these beetle-brows,” Tony said softly. “You always make the lovelies. Why wasn’t I born with the gene of beetle-brows?”
    â€œOh, shut up, Tony,” Karen Gresham said. “Kurt’s not coming, Harry. He just called. Tied up at home working on whatever he works on. Disappointed?” She turned her enormous green eyes his way. Below the cloth her hand was brushing his lightly, hungrily.
    â€œNot disappointed, and not not,” Harry said. There it was again, the havoc to his nervous system. On the excuse of reaching for his cigarettes, he withdrew his hand.
    â€œForgive him the syntax, honey,” Tony Mitchell said. “Doctors get that way from writing prescriptions.”
    â€œI think Harry’s disappointed,” said Karen, smiling. There was the slightest pucker between her brows. “Kurt fascinates him. Doesn’t he, Harry?”
    Harry said nothing except, “Your health.” He picked up one of the two cocktail glasses the waiter was setting before him and gulped down half of it.
    â€œThat’s a hell of a toast for a would-be successful doctor,” Tony said. “And say what you want about that husband of yours, Karen, he’s a fascinating monster. The most fascinating in my experience, which has dealt with monsters almost exclusively.”
    â€œTo Kurt Gresham, Monster De Luxe,” murmured Karen, and she sipped her fresh martini.
    â€œMight’s well order,” said the lawyer; the waiter had his pencil patiently poised. “Duck, that’s it. Duck Aldebaranis—truly out of this world. How about you two?”
    â€œI don’t care,” Karen said.
    Harry shrugged.
    â€œShrimp first? With that crazy sauce? Lovers? I’m speaking!”
    â€œOh, you order, Tony,” Karen said.
    â€œYes.” Harry observed her over the rim of his glass. That fascinating old monster certainly had an eye for women. She was exquisite, and when she sat beside her husband he became grotesque; Karen was almost half Kurt Gresham’s age. What hath God bought, he thought bitterly.
    Yes, exquisite. The facial bones so delicate, with the fragility of fine china, and something of its translucence. The thoroughbred way in which she held her head, with its swirl of incredible copper hair. The great green wide-apart, innocent, worldly, inscrutable, enchanting eyes. The flesh under that tight green gown with its daring décolleté cut.… The gown must have cost his income for months. The emerald necklace making love to her throat was probably worth more than his father’s insurance policy had brought. Yes, old Gresham knew how to pick his women—and how to keep them … For one lightning moment Dr. Harrison Brown thought: Was she what had got into his blood? Or was it what she represented—the symbol of everything he had fiercely yearned for all his life?
    They were well served and they ate while Tony Mitchell joked and ragged them. Through it all Harry was conscious only of the heat of her pressing thigh, the caresses of her secretive fingers. They lingered over dessert and coffee and Drambuie, and then, after the table was cleared, they drank more coffee and more Drambuie; and he got a little drunk, and his tongue loosened, and he even laughed several times. And then, at about eleven o’clock, Tony said, “Did you come in