ISBN 978-1-4494-2366-7
www.andrewsmcmeel.com
William X. Kienzle died in December 2001. He was a Detroit parish priest for twenty years before leaving the priesthood. He began writing his popular mystery series after serving as an editor and director at the Center for Contemplative Studies at the University of Dallas.
The Father Koesler Mysteries
1. The Rosary Murders
2. Death Wears a Red Hat
3. Mind Over Murder
4. Assault with Intent
5. Shadow of Death
6. Kill and Tell
7. Sudden Death
8. Deathbed
9. Deadline for a Critic
10. Marked for Murder
11. Eminence
12. Masquerade
13. Chameleon
14. Body Count
15. Dead Wrong
16. Bishop as Pawn
17. Call No Man Father
18. Requiem for Moses
19. The Man Who Loved God
20. The Greatest Evil
21. No Greater Love
22. Till Death
23. The Sacrifice
24. The Gathering
Here is a special preview of
Marked for Murder
The Father Koesler Mysteries: Book 10
1
'It's all right, you know-I mean, if you can't. . .'
The young man tried feverishly-as he had for the past fifteen minutes-to stimulate himself. But the longer and more frantically he tried, the less likely it seemed that he would maintain or even attain an erection. And, before he'd begun, she had spent another quarter of an hour trying to help him. She'd used every means she knew. And she knew them all.
Nothing.
'Believe me, honey,' Louise Bonner assured him, 'it happens to everybody once in a while. It's nothing to get upset about. Tomorrow you'll probably have a hard-on all day.'
'I can do it.' His teeth were clenched as he thrashed about. 'Goddammit, I've done it all my life.'
'Yeah, sure, honey. But this is your first time with a woman, right?'
He flushed deeper as he continued his effort.
All his life. Louise suppressed a smile. All seventeen or eighteen years of his brief life. She had a mental image of him in his room, alone. On the walls, photos of females, nude or in various stages of dishabille. And there he would masturbate the night away. Then the fateful day-today. He'd saved his money. Or his father gave him ten bucks, told him to find a whore and become a man.
Well, what can you get for ten bucks these days, Louise mused. Forget the pricey bitches in comfortable hotels. Head for Cass Corridor in the decaying center of Detroit and you're likely to find a Louise Bonner-El to her street friends.
She had plied this, the oldest of professions, for all but sixteen of her fifty-one years. And, as far as she was concerned, she had never achieved her full potential. Even as a kid with tight skin, she'd been on the streets. For that she blamed her early pimps.
Now? Hell, she knew she was much the worse for wear. Oh, she had managed to stay slim. And even if the curves were no longer shapely, the angles were still there. But her legs were a bit flabby, the flesh of her upper arms sagged, and the wrinkles-God, how they betrayed her!
But she was still good enough for this kid. It wasn't her fault he couldn't get it on. Even though she was old enough to be his mother. Forget that; old enough to be his grandmother!
All this she thought as she lay back on the metal bed with its stained sheets and grungy mattress.
'Look, honey, if it's the money . . .'
'It's not the money, dammit! I can do it. I know I can.'
She shook her head. Time was money, even on a Sunday afternoon. The longer she spent in the room and off the street, the more potential business was driving away from this tired old neighborhood. By now, she would gladly give back his ten bucks. If she spent countless hours waiting for ten dollars to get used up, she could forget about eating.
She sat up and reached for her pantyhose.
'No, wait!'
She hesitated.
He went to his coat, which he had thrown across a chair. He fumbled in the pocket and brought out what appeared to be some kind of feminine undergarment. He offered it to Louise.
'What the hell!' she exclaimed. 'It's a garter belt.'
'Put it on.'
'Honey, it won't fit. It's way too large.'
'Put it on. Please put it on.'
'But, why-?'
'It's my mother's.'
She shrugged. Why not? It had been a crazy afternoon. Maybe she could get rid of him if she humored him. She slipped the belt on. It was, as she had anticipated, several sizes too large. She looked at him to check his reaction.
He was ready.
'Well,' she sighed, 'I'll be damned.'
It did not take long. In a few seconds he was no longer a virgin.
It was obvious from his demeanor as he dressed, and the jaunty wave he gave as he left the room that, as far as he was concerned, today he had become a man.
She dressed, pulling her coat tightly about her. Early January in Michigan could be cold. Or it might be warm. One never knew what to expect from Michigan's weather.
But this was a cold one. The wind whipped through the parallel streets of Woodward, Cass, Second, and Third-which, for the purposes of work, made up Louise Bonner's world.
She walked briskly, leaning into the wind, up from Cass and Selden, the corner where her apartment was located, toward Third and Willis, the corner she and a few others had staked out for these many years.
