Read The Killer in My Eyes for Free Online Page B

qualities. ‘You bet it does.’
    ‘I thought so.’
    Without being invited, the man sat down in the empty chair.
    ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
    ‘Whatever you’re planning to suggest, I warn you I’m not interested.’
    ‘Come on, now. A man like me must have something to interest a woman like you.’
    He was so sure of himself, he did not even notice the expression on her face. He was caught in a trap and didn’t know it. Lysa leaned back in her seat, pushing her chest out slightly, and looked at him with eyes that made his legs shake.
    Suddenly she smiled, a smile that was full of promise. ‘You know, Harry, there’s one thing I like in a man. Initiative. I think you have plenty of that, and that’s what makes you such a smart guy.’
    Harry smiled in his turn. Lysa did not miss the fleeting sideways glance he threw towards the other table: he was swanking to his friends.
    ‘You can’t even imagine how much,’ he leered.
    ‘That’s what I thought. So it’s only right for you to know that I’m pretty smart, too. Look at my hand.’
    Lysa slowly ran her left hand across the table. Harry watched, fascinated by the route her nails were taking on the red-and-white check tablecloth. It was a simple movement, but her expression made it unusually sensual. He gulped.
    ‘You see what I’m doing on the tablecloth? Just think – I could be doing it to you, on your back, in your hair, on your chest, other places . . .’ Lysa half closed her eyes. ‘Are you thinking about that?’
    However limited Harry’s imagination might be, his face made it clear that he was indeed thinking about that. Suddenly, Lysa’s voice became a seductive sigh.
    ‘And now just
think
what I could do with my other hand . . .’
    She lowered her eyes, indicating a spot under the table. Harry looked down – and turned white. She was holding a switchblade in her right hand, aimed directly at his testicles.
    ‘You have a choice, Harry,’ she said. ‘You can go back to your friends with your balls, or without them.’
    Harry sought refuge in an ironic grin, but could not conceal the unease in his voice. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
    ‘Want to try me?’
    For a few moments, the one movement in the world seemed to be a bead of sweat slowly trickling down Harry’s forehead.
    Then Lysa said, ‘I’ll give you a chance.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Seeing as how you’re not a bad person, just a moron, I’d like to do something for you. Put your hand in the breast pocket of your jacket and give me one of your business cards. I’ll take it and smile at you. Your friends will see that, and you’ll be able to tell them whatever you like. Maybe tonight you’ll be able to go out on your own, go see a movie, and then tomorrow tell them what a terrific lay I was. I don’t care. The only thing I want is for you to get out of my hair and let me finish my food.’
    Harry slid cautiously out from the table and stood up.
    Lysa put her right hand, now empty, back on the table. With a precise, highly suggestive gesture, she took the large oyster from her plate and slowly sucked it.
    Harry turned his back to the table where his friends were and tried to recover some of his pride. ‘You’re nothing but a cheap whore.’
    The angelic smile she gave him seemed incompatible with the woman who until a few moments earlier had been casually holding a knife aimed at his sexual organs. She slipped her hand back under the table. ‘If that’s what you think, why don’t you sit down again?’
    As Harry moved away without another word and returned to his own table, Lysa watched him with a smile on her face. When he sat down among his friends, she took the flute of champagne and raised it in his direction, as if toasting him. None of the other men noticed the grimace with which he responded to her gesture.
    Then, calmly, Lysa turned her attention back to a huge Maine oyster that had pride of place on the metal tray.
    Three-quarters of an hour later, a