{"product_id":"snake-isbn-9781569479681","title":"Snake","description":"Lieutenant Kramer and Sergeant Zondi have their hands full. On the same day that an adult entertainer known as Eve is found accidentally strangled to death in her dressing room, her pet python wrapped dead around her neck, a beloved candy shop owner named \"Lucky\" Siyayo is shot to death at his counter in a botched robbery. The detective duo quickly realize neither death is as simple as it looks on the surface: Lucky Siyayo's cash register was all but empty the day he was murdered, which suddenly throws a whole rash of fatal neighborhood robberies into perspective—were none of them robberies at all? It becomes clear a killer is on the loose, but Zondi and Kramer must figure out what the killer is after. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMeanwhile, postmortem analysis reveals that Eve didn't die at the time her ex-boss had stated he'd discovered her body; the more Kramer picks the circumstances apart, the less they make sense. With two very different sets of crimes to solve, Kramer and Zondi set off on treks that take them all over town, from the poorer villages to the sleazy dressing rooms of con artists and pimps to gorgeous steop of the South African countryside in another surefire investigation full of both stirring observations of Apartheid and plenty of mischief. Only one thing is for sure—no one is getting to take his day off this week!\u003cu\u003ePraise for James McClure:\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The pace is fast, the solution ingenious. Above all, however, is the author's extraordinary naturalistic style. He is that rarity—a sensitive writer who can carry his point without forcing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A revealing picture of the hate and sickness of the apartheid society of South Africa.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eWashington Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So artfully conceived as to engender cheers.... A memorable mystery.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This well-plotted, well-written murder mystery is exceptional ... sometimes grim, sometimes sourly comic, always shocking.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Atlantic\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Soho completes its reprinting of one of the finest police series to begin in the 1970s, James McClure's eight books about Tromp Kramer and Mickey Zondi, a South African biracial detective team in the days of Apartheid.\"  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A superior story by any yardstick.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePortland Oregonian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eJames McClure (1939-2006) was born in Johannesburg, South Africa, where he worked as a photographer and then a teacher before becoming a crime reporter. He published eight wildly successful books in the Kramer and Zondi series during his lifetime. The first two books in the series, \u003ci\u003eThe Steam Pig\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Caterpillar Cop,\u003c\/i\u003e are available in paperback from Soho Crime.EVE DEFIED DEATH twice nightly, except on Sundays.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSunday had just begun when there was a soft rap of knuckles\u003cbr\u003eon the dressing room door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Go away,” she lisped, resentful.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMonday through Friday, she did a show at eleven and a show\u003cbr\u003eat one. The first timed to catch and hold the after-the-movies\u003cbr\u003ecrowd, the second to prime them for their beds, titillated and\u003cbr\u003eeager to return for more. Come Saturday, however, both shows\u003cbr\u003ehad to be over before the laws regarding public drinking and\u003cbr\u003eentertainment on the South African sabbath came into effect.\u003cbr\u003eMaking a total of twelve hours in all, but it was tiring, stressful\u003cbr\u003ework.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo when her week ended on the stroke of midnight,\u003cbr\u003eshe gladly turned into a pumpkin. Her taut orange skin\u003cbr\u003eand round face were just right for one, for a do-nothing,\u003cbr\u003ethink-nothing, vegetating pumpkin which—once she had\u003cbr\u003eremoved her small top plate—smiled gap-toothed into the\u003cbr\u003emirror like a Halloween lantern. Nobody paid her to be\u003cbr\u003epretty in private.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe knuckles rapped again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer smile quite disappeared. She replaced the plate and\u003cbr\u003etwisted round on her stool.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Go on, voetsak you!” she called out with cold clarity. “Leave\u003cbr\u003ea girl in peace.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA shuffle of feet moving closer to the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Eve?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That you, baby?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Can I see you for a minute, please?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe had heard that one before, yet reached round for her\u003cbr\u003egown and hitched it over her shoulders.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You can see me from there,” she said, opening the door a\u003cbr\u003ecrack.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe really was a baby, a great big baby who just wanted\u003cbr\u003emothering—and, like a baby, was liable to kick up a terrible\u003cbr\u003erumpus unless he got it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I wanted—do you think it’s a hell of a cheek?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m listening.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe was also trying to work out what he was up to this\u003cbr\u003etime.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well,” he said diffidently, bringing out a hand from behind\u003cbr\u003ehim and showing her the champagne bottle grasped in it by\u003cbr\u003ethe neck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, \u003ci\u003eja\u003c\/i\u003e?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe offered her the bottle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s all right,” he said. “I don’t have to come in.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe was obviously meant just to take it. But, what with\u003cbr\u003eclutching her gown across her bosom, she hadn’t a hand to\u003cbr\u003espare. And besides, that would have seemed mean.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“For me?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Please.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Who gave you this idea? An old film?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I—I just thought of it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, \u003ci\u003eja\u003c\/i\u003e?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s been a wonderful week.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So you acted on impulse, hey?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiled broadly, somehow flattered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s me, Eve. I just wanted to—well—thank you and\u003cbr\u003ethat. All right?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer instincts had cried wolf so often it had become impossible\u003cbr\u003eto make a fair assessment—one fair to him as well as to\u003cbr\u003eherself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’re on your own?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sorry?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s a big bottle.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We don’t have to—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Look,” she said. “Just you wait a minute and I’ll see.”\u003cbr\u003eShe glanced down at his patent leather shoes. Neither tried\u003cbr\u003eto wedge the door. So she closed it gently and looked across into\u003cbr\u003ethe big mirror. Her reflection was never much real company,\u003cbr\u003eand on this, her last night in Trekkersburg, the truth was she\u003cbr\u003edid feel a bit flat and lonely. On top of which, the spontaneity\u003cbr\u003eof the gesture had touched her. Nobody’d ever brought her\u003cbr\u003echampagne before, and she was close to a mood that hinted\u003cbr\u003enobody else ever would.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Okay, then?” she mouthed silently.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer reflection raised an eyebrow that quivered, querying\u003cbr\u003eher judgment on the basis of the known facts—such as that big\u003cbr\u003ebabies were always easy to kick out once she had had enough\u003cbr\u003eof them. Then it slowly regained its penciled symmetry. She\u003cbr\u003eshrugged. It shrugged.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eAch\u003c\/i\u003e, that’s it,” she said, fastening the belt of her gown\u003cbr\u003eproperly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen she lifted a large wicker basket onto the divan and\u003cbr\u003eundid the leather straps. From inside it she took a python,\u003cbr\u003eroughly five feet long and almost two inches thick in the\u003cbr\u003emiddle, beautifully patterned with light-brown shapes like\u003cbr\u003eround leaves, and draped him over her shoulders. The weight\u003cbr\u003ewas that of a protective pair of arms.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe did a double take. It was usually the last she saw of the\u003cbr\u003eones who weren’t sincere.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You don’t mind?” she said. “Clint gets so restless after\u003cbr\u003ea show if I put him straight back in his basket. He’ll be good.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis eyes gleamed. She took this for amusement, then was not\u003cbr\u003esure, but by then he had politely sidled round her to take up a\u003cbr\u003eposition beside where her street clothes hung from a hook.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePressing the door closed behind her, she made certain it\u003cbr\u003ewould stay shut against any other callers, and then pointed to\u003cbr\u003ethe stool.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like a seat?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, I’m fine, thanks—thank you very much.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well, I’ve been on my feet long enough for one day,” she\u003cbr\u003esaid, sitting down. “Glamorous, isn’t it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe was getting in another dig about the way she had to\u003cbr\u003elive. The dressing room had three walls showing their brickwork\u003cbr\u003ethrough a thin coat of whitewash, a fourth wall made\u003cbr\u003eof bulging chipboard, an uneven cement floor, and a ceiling\u003cbr\u003eall stained and saggy like old underwear. As for furnishings,\u003cbr\u003ethere was the blotchy mirror stuck crookedly to the wall\u003cbr\u003eopposite the door, a row of wire coat hangers on hooks for\u003cbr\u003ea wardrobe, a junkshop dressing table, a grass mat, a divan,\u003cbr\u003eand a wash basin with bad breath—plus, of course, the stool\u003cbr\u003eshe was perched on, which gave you splinters if you weren’t\u003cbr\u003ecareful. No window at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You are a bit untidy, Eve.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat was true, but one of those annoying surface remarks\u003cbr\u003eall the same.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I bet where you live is worth keeping nice!” she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s a bit nasty! You don’t really expect what film stars\u003cbr\u003eare given, do you? Although, mind, I’m not saying you’re not\u003cbr\u003eworth it!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You trying to butter me up?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“How?” he asked, in that abruptly innocent way of his.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eAch\u003c\/i\u003e, forget it There’s a glass and a mug by the basin.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I should have thought to bring some!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’ll have to wash them. I use tissues for drying.\u003cbr\u003eHere—catch.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe fumbled his catch and dropped the box. Then made a\u003cbr\u003edreadful clatter with the things in the basin. It gave her a certain\u003cbr\u003eamount of unkindly pleasure to see him doing such work.\u003cbr\u003eGod, but he had a soft life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe cork came out of the bottle with a sharp report. Snakes\u003cbr\u003ehave no means of picking up airborne sound, but her sudden\u003cbr\u003eflinch caused the python to contract his coils, and she had to\u003cbr\u003ecoax him out a little in order to stay comfortable. Very soon,\u003cbr\u003eonce she was sure everything was as before, Clint could go\u003cbr\u003eback in his basket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe was handed the more ladylike glass, filled to within a\u003cbr\u003esplash of the brim.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“To you, Eve!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ta. And to you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey drank.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Is that your proper name? Eve?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Can you think of a better?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe dimpled and shook his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Put it this way,” she added, finding she had almost downed\u003cbr\u003ethe lot. “It’s not what they’ll put on my tombstone.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy that sent a shudder through her as she said it was the\u003cbr\u003ebooze for you. She was young, fit and healthy, and never really\u003cbr\u003edid anything dangerous.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Goose walk over?” he asked, grinning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pardon?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Too late! Not bad stuff—didn’t know we had decent bubbly\u003cbr\u003ehere. You and I should have started earlier on it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was beginning to assert himself. Beginning to feel more\u003cbr\u003eat home, perhaps, than he ever did in his own place, from what\u003cbr\u003eshe had heard of it. The woman sounded a right bitch. Poor\u003cbr\u003elittle chap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The whitewash will come off on your jacket.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got more—this isn’t my only\u003cbr\u003eone.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe had noticed; a different suit practically every night—as\u003cbr\u003eif less-regular customers would ever notice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But let’s talk about you for a change,” he said. “Why not\u003cbr\u003edo more with yourself? Take this act to Lesotho and go the\u003cbr\u003ewhole hog?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In front of natives? That’ll be the day! Besides, what’s this\u003cbr\u003e‘nude’ rubbish? I thought you were the one who appreciated\u003cbr\u003ethe psychological way I use—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Please, please. I was only wanting things better for you,\u003cbr\u003ethe sort of—er—contracts you really deserve. You’re a real\u003cbr\u003eartist and it’s high time you realized it! What’s Trekkersburg?\u003cbr\u003eThere’s a limit here on what it could ever do for you. And, I\u003cbr\u003eagree, the same applies really to Maseru. But have you ever\u003cbr\u003ethought of London? Hamburg? Vegas?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I see—and you could be my manager?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Why’s this making you angry?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eAch\u003c\/i\u003e, because every five minutes some bugger tries that lot\u003cbr\u003eof smoothie talk on me. I’m sick and tired of it!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Is that how it sounded?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yes!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Then I’m sorry, really sorry to have said the wrong thing,\u003cbr\u003ealthough I promise you that I meant it. Come on, have another\u003cbr\u003edrop.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTypical. Do what you like, say sorry, and everything was fine\u003cbr\u003eagain. All men stayed babies, when you came to think of it. Bit\u003cbr\u003eyour finger and then went goo-goo. She was saddened but not\u003cbr\u003esurprised to find it all turning sour. Such was life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut at least the champagne had not lost its sweetness. It must\u003cbr\u003ehave cost a bomb retail. Sweet and tickly and gone in an instant\u003cbr\u003edown into a tummy kept empty for the more difficult positions.\u003cbr\u003eAnd from there, moving on to make her sore limbs feel better\u003cbr\u003ethan a warm bath would have done, which the boardinghouse\u003cbr\u003edidn’t seem to own anyway, and her head so pleasantly muzzy\u003cbr\u003ethat the bare light no longer hurt her eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe let him refill her glass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There—watch it doesn’t spill! Can’t let any go to waste. You\u003cbr\u003eknow what I’ve decided to do? Take a little holiday on my own.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePlan B was being put into operation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, \u003ci\u003eja\u003c\/i\u003e?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Do you ever take a holiday?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sometimes. When Clint has eaten a big meal.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis eyes became fixed on the python.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Clint doesn’t like being stared at,” she said, then finished\u003cbr\u003ethe line from her family show: “He thinks you’re trying to\u003cbr\u003ehypnotize him.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe laughed loudly. “What does he feel like, Eve?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Smooth and nice—not slimy.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“How strong is he, really?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One his size can kill a duiker—even a buck much bigger.\u003cbr\u003eTouch him.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis free hand went into his pocket, and he raised the other\u003cbr\u003eto show it held the mug. Baby didn’t want to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s the matter—do you want your mummy?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That isn’t like you, Eve,” he said, very hurt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen the fingers, with their bitten-down nails, reached out\u003cbr\u003eand just dabbed at the scales. Clint tried to escape from her\u003cbr\u003eshoulders. She pulled him back\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not so cold,” he said. “Super.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Room temperature.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I see. And you feed him on. . . ?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Guinea pigs.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Dead or alive?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I just chuck them in his basket. Sometimes nothing happens\u003cbr\u003efor hours, then you hear the squeaking. Only I don’t give\u003cbr\u003ehim them often or he’d get even lazier. Wouldn’t you, you old\u003cbr\u003ebastard?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd she held the python’s head with deceptive firmness as\u003cbr\u003eshe nuzzled noses with him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Can I see him eat one?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not feeding time.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003ePlease\u003c\/i\u003e.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat was another of his magic words, like sorry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’ll pay for it. Clint can have one on the house, so to\u003cbr\u003espeak.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI’ll pay\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If you can tear yourself away from this club some night,\u003cbr\u003ecome down and see us in Durban. I’ve got a spitting cobra that\u003cbr\u003eeats when he likes.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Come off it, Eve! You know you’re the real attraction!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDouble meanings next—he was doing well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, \u003ci\u003eja\u003c\/i\u003e? I fascinate you, do I?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well, in a way, yes—yes, you do.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And why?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shrugged, looking more thoughtful than she had\u003cbr\u003eexpected.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Because I play with snakes?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That might have been it to begin with—I thought it would\u003cbr\u003ebe interesting talking to you—but I’ve also had this funny\u003cbr\u003efeeling. . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis sentence seemed to quite genuinely tail off, and his eyes\u003cbr\u003eleft her as he frowned and bit his thumbnail. There was a job\u003cbr\u003efor him in show business as well, no doubt of that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“My God, you’re not going to sulk, are you?” she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Me?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd he laughed softly, topping up her glass again, returning\u003cbr\u003eit to her with a flourish. The professional charm was switched\u003cbr\u003eon and off so suddenly you could almost hear the click.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What exactly did you want to thank me for? I get paid for\u003cbr\u003edoing it, don’t I?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You. Your show. All of it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Turns you on?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Does someone I know.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hey! This is something new! Don’t tell me you’ve actually\u003cbr\u003egot a girlfriend hidden someplace?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, she’s not here. She’s—she’s on holiday.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eAch\u003c\/i\u003e, I realize that she isn’t standing outside the door, man. I\u003cbr\u003ewas just surprised because, after what you’ve told me, it hardly\u003cbr\u003eseems likely that your old battleship would approve.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I never take her home with me,” he said solemnly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hell! As bad as that, is it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe laughed longer than she did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSick, that, him wanting to watch Clint gobble up a guinea\u003cbr\u003epig. Things were now taking a little time to sink in, which was\u003cbr\u003ealso nice. She’d never watched, even though it was just a fact\u003cbr\u003eof life like any other Clint had to eat, but nobody had to see\u003cbr\u003ehim do it. Most people would think the same way she did, so\u003cbr\u003ehe couldn’t be all that typical. He was weird.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Are you weird?” she asked, sipping a little more.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What a question!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I was thinking about you wanting to gawk at Clint having\u003cbr\u003ehis num-nums.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’d just be interested. What’s weird in that?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNothing, when you thought about how excited the same\u003cbr\u003ething would make small kids. If they saw it happen in a\u003cbr\u003egame reserve, they’d love it and show no pity or other\u003cbr\u003einside things. If the snake came for them, that would be a\u003cbr\u003edifferent matter, but their fear—like his—was an outside\u003cbr\u003eone. And she saw that happening all around her every night\u003cbr\u003eto grownups.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What are you dreaming about?” he asked, making his voice\u003cbr\u003efriendly but not quite covering his nervousness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I was thinking.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Is it catching?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs if able to read her mind, he reached out again to touch\u003cbr\u003ethe python.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not too close to his head,” she warned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pythons don’t bite.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Who told you that?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But they’re not poisonous.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Blood poisoning. You can catch blood poisoning from his\u003cbr\u003eteeth—they’re dirty.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe winced. “Can’t it go in the basket?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Just now.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo the girlfriend was away. Oh, yes, that began to explain\u003cbr\u003ea few things. Such as a bottle of champagne so big that two\u003cbr\u003epeople could get very drunk on it. A bottle that had probably\u003cbr\u003ebeen shown to quite a few eyes in the club earlier on, and there\u003cbr\u003ehad also probably been jokes about her. Even a few coarse bets\u003cbr\u003elaid. It was becoming clearer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You haven’t been to my dressing room before,” she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I know. So?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It wasn’t so private at the table.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What—what are you hinting at?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eQuick as a flash, he was. Look at the innocent smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You told your friends you were coming here?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Friends, pals, closest buddies.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe frowned, as if he didn’t understand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Am I right?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I don’t really have any,” he said. “Certainly nobody I’d tell\u003cbr\u003ethis to.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eTell this to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eShe hesitated. This was the moment to kick him out. Yet she\u003cbr\u003ecould still be the loser: he could go back and make up something\u003cbr\u003efilthy for his cronies that would have them all outside,\u003cbr\u003ebanging on the door, waving bottles. Or waiting for her in the\u003cbr\u003ealley, or tailing her back to the boardinghouse. The bugger of it\u003cbr\u003ewas she had allowed him to stay too long already, and so kicking\u003cbr\u003ehim out wasn’t going to solve anything. If only there was some\u003cbr\u003eway she could stop him from telling anyone stories that could\u003cbr\u003ehurt her—make him run off home with his tail between his\u003cbr\u003elegs. If only. . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was a way! And by the time she had finished with\u003cbr\u003ehim, he wouldn’t even want to think about it, let alone talk.\u003cbr\u003eShe knew men.","brand":"Soho Crime","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303749275877,"sku":"NP9781569479681","price":16.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781569479681.jpg?v=1767736818","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/snake-isbn-9781569479681","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}