[Mike Hammer 03] - Vengeance Is Mine by Mickey Spillane Page A

I’d been used to my own particular kind of guttersnipe too long. I kicked the idea out of my mind and unlocked the stare we were holding on each other.
    “Let’s go home,” I said. “There’s still some day and a long night ahead of me.”
    She was wanting me to ask her to continue this day and not break it off now, but I didn’t let myself think it. Juno pushed back her chair and stood up. “The nose. First I must powder the nose, Mike.” I watched her walk away from me, watched the swing of her hips and the delicate way she seemed to balance on her toes. I wasn’t the only one watching, either. A kid who had artist written all over her in splotches of paint was leaning against the partition of the booth behind me. Her eyes were hard and hot and followed Juno every step of the way. She was another one of those mannish things that breed in the half-light of the so-called aesthetical world. I got a look that told me I was in for competition and she took off after Juno. She came back in a minute and her face was pulled tight in a scowl and I gave her a nasty laugh. Some women, yes. Others, nix.
    My nose got powdered first and I waited by the door for her after throwing a good week’s pay to the cashier.
    The snow that had slacked off started again in earnest. A steady stream of early traffic poured out of the business section, heading home before the stuff got too deep. Juno had snow tires on the heap so I wasn’t worried about getting caught, but it took us twice the time to get back uptown as it did to come down.
    Juno decided against going back to the office and told me to go along Riverside Drive. At the most fashionable of the cross streets I turned off and went as far as the middle of the block. She indicated a new gray stone building that stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the others, boasting a doorman in a maroon uniform and topcoat. She leaned back and sighed, “We’re home.”
    “Leave the car here?”
    “Won’t you need it to get where you’re going?”
    “I couldn’t afford to put gas in this buggy. No, I’ll take a cab.”
    I got out and opened the door. The maroon uniform walked over and tipped his hat. Juno said, “Have the car taken to the garage for me please?”
    He took the keys. “Certainly, Miss Reeves.”
    She turned to me with a grin. The snow swirling around her clung to the fur of her collar and hat, framing her face with a sprinkling of white. “Come up for a drink?” I hesitated, “Just one, Mike, then I’ll let you go.”
    “Okay, baby, just one and don’t try to make it any more.”
    Juno didn’t have a penthouse, but it was far enough up to make a good Olympus. There was no garishness about the place, big as it was. The furnishings and the fixtures were matched in the best of taste, designed for complete, comfortable living.
    I kept my coat and hat on while she whipped up a cocktail, my eyes watching the lithe grace of her movements. There was an unusual symmetry to her body that made me want to touch and feel. Our eyes met in the mirror over the sofa and there was the same thing in hers as there must have been in mine.
    She spun around with an eloquent gesture and held out the glasses. Her voice was low and husky again. “I’m just a breeze past thirty, Mike. I’ve known many men. I’ve had many men too, but none that I really wanted. One day soon I’m going to want you.”
    My spine chilled up suddenly and the crazy music let loose in my head because she had the light in her hair again. The stem of the glass broke off in my fingers, tearing into my palm. The back of my neck got hot and I felt the sweat pop out on my forehead.
    I moved so the light would be out of her hair and the gold would be gone from it, covering up the insane hatred of memory by lifting my hand to drink from the bowl of the broken glass.
    It spoiled the picture for me, a picture that should be beautiful and desirable, scarred by something that should be finished but kept coming back.
    I put