"Dead on the Mark" (p17)
"I hit her harder than a rummy would hit a bottle of bourbon. The pistol flew out of her hand, landing next to the deceased body of Tony 'Big Daddy' Scarpetti. She didn't fall, just staggered a bit, eyes glazed, mouth open like she wanted a french kiss. She'd always been a tough broad, and that hadn't changed since I last eyed her. Sucking my bloody lip, I thought fast: Grab the gun, stick it into Scarpetti's cold hand (let him take the blame for the other bodies), grab the loot, and the dame--why not? Since I'd last seen her, I'd always sought to renew that special "friendship" that we'd had, thinking that-"
Bill Carroll, known to readers of "Spicy Detective Stories" and other "Spicy" pulps as T.G. Shooter, among other pseudonyms, pushed away from his desk, scowling at his latest opus. Then the absurdity hit him and he half-smiled. "Sought to renew"? A bit too literary for this audience. He sighed. He knew he was wasting his talent here, churning out this drivel, but even a lousy half-penny a word paid the bills and gave him time to work on his novel. He glanced up and saw Angie, the receptionist, staring at him again, her kisser a crimson sexy-shy smile. Hell, it was almost quitting time, and a shot and a beer would go down aces right now. He walked towards Angie, hoping that new bar around the corner had booths.