The proposition sounded like a pushover.

All Peter Chambers had to do was find out where a teen-aged chorine had been for the past month and why. And for that information the girl's father, a prosperous banker, would pay Chambers a cool thousand dollars.

It was a quick way to earn some easy money. So Chambers thought . . . until he found out that the fistful of cash carried a little something extra along with it - "A FISTFUL OF DEATH."

''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.