DANCE WITH THE DEAD

There were twelve of them. Bottoms, that is. Au naturel. The most eye-wrecking collection of derrieres ever to pop out of a printed page. The “WOW’ pin-up girls…one for each month of the year. No faces, no names, not even swaddling clothes…just September, October, December, like that. Man, you should have seen January. Every inch a torrid zone. And wouldn’t you know I’d get to work through the whole calendar? Well, they don’t call me Shell Scott for nothing. Nossirree. I get paid for this kind of work. One of these luscious young pin-ups had the clue to a headline murder right on her little old back page. Four freckles. You think looking for a needle in a haystack is something?