Death is the Last Lover

Are you a ladykiller? the vision asked. She had skin like cream, hair like jet, and a body that could turn any male into an instant sex-maniac. With a wicked little smile, she moved closer to Peter Chambers. "I devour ladykillers" she murmured. A hot bout of serious slaughter and insincere sex in which Manhattan's sleuth-about-town Peter Chambers investigates the early death of a dancehall hostess who would do anything for love . . . and much much more for money.