The Drowning Pool — Ross MacDonald

"...I'd kill myself if I had my mother's courage. As it is, I suppose I'll sit around and wait for something to happen to me. Something good or something bad, it doesn't really matter."

I didn't know what to say. I settled for something meaningless and soothing : "All the bad things have happened, haven't they?"

"Except the desolation in the heart." If she hadn't been completely earnest, the phrase would have sounded foolish.

I said : "Talk it out to me."

"What do you mean?"

"You killed your grandmother," I said. "You might as well tell me about it."


DANGER SIGNAL!

A voice whispered: “It's me.”

“Don't play hiding-games,” detective Lew Archer snarled. “A .45 slug would play hell with your constitution.”

“I like my constitution the way it is. Don't you, Archer?” Her beautiful blond head appeared at the edge of the pier. She held out her hand. It was as cold as a fish.

When Lew Archer met sultry Mavis Kilbourne, he knew there would be trouble. He expected her to lie to him. He expected her to cheat on him. He expected her to be mixed up with the vicious killer he was after. But what Archer didn't count on was the sweet-looking torture-chamber her friends had rigged up for his benefit!