GW-107 Man Eater
Man Eater
Gay Way
GW-107
Dick Jones
$1.95
Man Eater
Gay Way
GW-107
Dick Jones
$1.95
Excerpt
Lots of people can’t drink in the morning, but since I keep such strange hours there’s really no such time as too early for me. I looked at the bartender and requested un combonatión, the Spanish version of a martini. I’d forgotten that the Spanish are serious drinkers, but my memory returned when the bartender gave me a water glass filled to the top with a 50/50 mixture of vermouth and gin. I drank the first two ounces, paid my tab and went out to grab a taxi. It dropped me off in front of the TransEurope Film Syndicate, the UNCCC’s cover operation in Madrid. I went in by the side door since the place wasn’t yet open for business. I walked into the only office with a light on and was hit by a voice that snarled, “My, my… if it isn’t Jake Gold, the faggot James Bond.”
It was Furguson… fat, ugly Furguson with the fucked-up mind and the sick sex life. I felt my insides grow cold. Furguson is the type who never fails to say something nasty and I wanted to ram my fist into his soft face. Someday he’s going to say something a bit too nasty and end up dead. I flashed him a cold look and sat down. The UNCCC knows all about my sexual tastes and nobody gives a damn; as long as I do my job well I could have a hang up about sheep and it wouldn’t bother them. Furguson is a different matter: He doesn’t care for the way I express my feelings and takes every chance he gets to tell me. I don’t like Furguson, but I have a hell of a lot of respect for his talent; the man is one of the Commission’s best, and his value allows me to overlook the fact that he’s a total loss as a human being. Furguson gave me a crude look and briefed me, in his own way.
“The body was found at about 3:00 this morning by a drunk who walked into the wrong room. This one is the same as all the others, death caused by loss of blood and shock. No trace of the guy’s organs, as usual, and no fingerprints. This is starting to look like a dead-end case, unless you’ve come up with some bright ideas.”
“Nothing new,” I said, “and still no breaks. I’m going to check out the victim and see if I can’t put something together from that.”
“He’s a faggot.” Furguson spat out the words. “Just one more queer who got his cock bitten off. He was just some wimp-ass freak after money. Hell, Gold, you should know all about people like that.
“Maybe at some point you’ve even gone to bed with this latest one. The only reason you’re on this case is so that if we find the missing cocks you’ll be able to match them up to their owners… Hah! A new crime tool: identification by taste. I’ll bet…”
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