Free Poisonous Kiss by Andras Totisz Page B

overdose.
    Â Â Â Â Â "You felt pity for him," my husband said in a small voice. "He was a young, goodlooking boy, but his life was a mess. He had lost his partner, he had lost his belief in himself. He had just lost all illusions about himself and discovered he was a failure. Something was missing, something you could give him. And only you could give it."
    Â Â Â Â Â He injected the little animal without waiting for an answer. He watched the mouse and the second hand. After one minute, he reached in the cage and the mouse attacked his gloved hand. Martin pulled out his hand and looked at me questioningly.
    Â Â Â Â Â "He looks like a nice guy," he said, as he prepared another dose at the same dilution. I watched him reach into the other cage absent-mindedly, take out a mouse and give it the shot. My eyes blurred in the lab's harsh light. I saw him wise and old. Wiser and older than had I thought he was.

CHAPTER 14

    Arany splashes away the leftover bits of shaving cream with a handful of water and looks in the mirror. A stranger looks back, a stranger with cool, cruel eyes. He shudders and turns away. His suit lies over the back of an armchair in the living room. The last time he had worn it was at Carl's burial. But this time he chose a more colorful tie. He put on the shoulder holster, and after moment's hesitation he tucks the small pistol that Ericsson had given him into his pants. Maybe I should put a shotgun in my jacket too, he thinks, smiling. The stranger with the cruel eyes is armed.
    Â Â Â Â Â He leaves his car in the garage and calls a taxi. The odor of his liberally applied after-shave mixes with the smell left here by earlier fares. The air conditioner is wrestling wearily with the heat, which had only abated slightly in the evening. He should have rolled down the window. He is bathed in sweat when he arrives.
    Â Â Â Â Â He pays, gets out and slowly looks around. He sees bars, clubs, pubs, discreet and not so discreet massage parlors, stretching on for several blocks. And it is so crowded you'd think half the town had decided to have a drink today. But Arany knew there is a crowd like this here every evening. Half the town is always after a little fun, and you can find it here. You can have sex, quick and pleasure less in a dirty little room, you can drink yourself unconscious in a dark club, and if you're real lucky, you'll still have a little change in your pocket when you wake up. Or you can loose everything gambling on cards or dice. You can also be knocked down, knifed, shot dead. Life itself is a big gamble.
    Â Â Â Â Â As a rookie, Arany spent almost a year in these streets. He watches the beautiful girls and the less beautiful ones, too. He watches the faces, red from drink, and hears the happy drunks shouting at each other. He sees the pimps taking their women to dinner. The big bull marches at the front of the procession, the women after. The guys are always in a hurry, like they have a lot to do. The whores lag behind and sometimes get a slap for it. They all have hamburgers on the next corner and then the women go out. The bull stays behind to drink a beer, but his eyes don't really leave them.
    Â Â Â Â Â A woman steps in front of Arany. Her skin looks strange, as if her face had half melted.
    Â Â Â Â Â "Do you want it?"
    Â Â Â Â Â "Not with you," he answers. He sidesteps and checks in a shop window to make sure he isn't followed as he walks on.
    Â Â Â Â Â He feels some remorse. I was crude, he thought. I should have just said no. I can't hate her for being ugly. The guilt is a good old, well-known feeling. Did it mean he's going to be himself again?
    Â Â Â Â Â He turns into a doorway and is hit by the cool air. He just stands there, enjoying the quiet for a moment, but he gets the feeling he's being watched. He walks on. There is no doorman in this house. He follows a thick, dirty looking,