Blondes are Skin Deep

It is the smell of death …

The Oxnan hotel stank with the stale odor of cheap whiskey, cheap two-bit racketeers, cheap unwashed women. But behind the rotting front, behind the peeling-plastered walls, a big time syndicate did its filthy business. The payoff was in the millions.

Edna Loomis - and there was nothing cheap about her - set out to get it all. Her method was simple . . . she used the weapon of her flesh. But she made one mistake. His name was Peone, of the drugged eyes and the slend...