Carny Kill by Robert Edmond Alter

By Robert Edmond Alter

A masterpiece of lurid threat from the underbelly of the South.On his first day operating for Cochrane's carny, Thaxton stumbled on that his new boss used to be married to his ex-wife.  On the second one day he came across his boss's body--with considered one of May's throwing knives planted firmly in its chest.With its impeccably rendered carnival environment and its deliriously crooked array of spielers, luck-boys, and dancing ladies with indecent hips and sub-zero hearts, Carny Kill is crime fiction at its so much devious and smelly.

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She laughed. "My agent gave it to me. " Her greengold eyes gave me a look of mild speculation. ' I wasn't sure I got that. Then I looked at her eyes again and I was sure. And it did matter whether I got that job or not. 2 This Robert Cochrane reminded me of a character out of _The Informer_. As Irish as Paddy's potato. Built like one, too. Big, round, rough. He didn't have the faith-andbejasus brogue though, which was a shame. Then he would have been complete. He must have been getting on to sixty.

But that was all right because the marks hadn't paid the price of admission to see a National Geographic type show. They simply wanted to see near naked girls gyrate. It began with a surge that vacuumed us out of the darkened room, out of the night and Neverland, and we were spellbound and tense as we went drifting along on a throbbing plain of savage fantasia. Her floss hair flying, her hips whirling on an oiled spine, shoulders arched and arms out and hands fondling invisible and suggestive objects, she started to shed her veils, tossing them off with an air of ecstatic abandonment.

There's no great trick to cultivating a swamp in Florida. Even the gators were real. They came from a nearby gator farm. They were harmless old daddies who were used to being around people. All they wanted to do was sleep in the sun and wait for some kind man to bring them their food. I suppose that's why they were all riled now. They didn't know what to make of this outrageous man-size bundle of meat that had been dumped in their nice little sheltered swamp. The tangle of gaudy, suffering foliage spread open on either side and my laboring boat _put-futted_ into a jungleribbed slough.

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