It was safer to be locked alone in a room with a deadly cobra than to spend a few minutes with Cherry. Pert little redheaded Cherry, with a bubbling laugh and a figure that drove me crazy.
She haunted my days and my nights and drew me along with her on a nightmare of love, lust and murder …
“Another gripping suspense story by Bruno Fischer.” The Pensacola News-Journal, Florida
Murder Made It Three …
I might be a punk, but when I hit the hard guys they felt it. He bounced off a corner of the shabby dresser and tottered toward the bed, the gun still in his hand. With both of my hands I grabbed the wrist, and he sighed and sagged against me.
Behind him Cherry was standing, and some- thing flashed in her hand. She leaned toward him, and over his shoulder our eyes met. I saw a kind of fever in hers.
There was perspiration on her upper lip as she pulled back and drew out the knife. We watched him sink and pitch forward and then finally flop over onto his side.
Cherry slumped against the dresser and stared at the red wetness that stained the blade. Only for a minute. Then she began to wriggle out of that cute yellow bathing suit.
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