By Herbert Kastle
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Extra resources for Cross Country
What difference would that make to Mom? " New Jersey and the dark side of the moon were equally remote to her. He tore up the card and looked at the bathroom. What the hell was he waiting for? Lois was just getting out of the bathtub-shower combination, streaming wet. She grabbed a towel off the rack and began rubbing her hair. "Slowpoke," she said. " He took off his bathrobe and hung it on die door hook, trying to keep his back to her as much as possible. He turned quickly to the partly open shower door.
Somehow, the pleasure didn't develop. The smoke was harsh, and he was sorry he hadn't saved some of the Scotch to smooth it out. He finished it down to his fingers, nodding sadly. Always that way. You wait for something, look forward to something, and it turns out nothing. A few times that way with Ruthie . . but maybe those were the times he'd gone to her not with desire but because he hadn't known how else to fill an empty night. / When he had wanted her, she'd given considerable pleasure. He wouldn't lump her in with the disappointments.
Time was running out for Detective Sergeant Edmund Roersch, and while he couldn't stop it, he might be able to make its passage more pleasant ... if he solved this case, got the right publicity, and made lieutenant. Then his retirement pay wouldn't give him die cold sweats when he thought of it, as he was doing now, lying awake in the big oak bed, alone despite Ruthie's being available. She was a sweet young piece, soft-spoken and ladylike for a hooker, and always willing to pay off in trade. A hooker and a cop in the same apartment house, on the same floor, and that's why she was always quick to spread for him.
Cross Country by Herbert Kastle