A Slip to Die for

Murders in Fashion --

Someone not only killed the author, who'd been an "underground" movie star, who'd been a model, who'd been a hustler, who'd been a cross-dresser ... but killed the borderline drunk, who'd been a TV-network executive and anchor-man for the national news.

Someone dressed each corpse in Draqualian silk ... a very special silk, by very special silk worms, who ate very special mulberry leaves, to make very special cocoons pre-dyed, in Technicolor digestive tracts, to very special perfection.

Stud Draqual knew the silk ... knew the dead men ... and would eventually penetrate the mystery to his own eminent peril, to know the killer.

PROLOGUE:

The bullet-punched black silk slip was a sensuous lake beached across the shore of the corpse's muscled thighs; the exposed length of flaccid penis placid and calm on its raft of coarse dark hair.

The silk was Draqualian, the end product of a sophisticated and very exclusive manufacturing operation in upstate New York where ravenous silkworms gobble mulberry leaves treated with a secret formula and then excrete gossamer strands of protein in every color of the rainbow.

Draqualian silk is exorbitantly expensive, but Don deZinn could afford the exorbitantly expensive. As that cross-dresser, model, underground movie star, and high-class call-boy confessed to me on more than one occasion: "Stud, I've come a long way since I walked the streets and peddled my cock and ass to the highest bidder."

There was one other interesting thing about that silk slip. It was one of mine.