A Kiss With Death

by Frances Hoelsema

  SEALED WITH A KISS SERIES

  A KISS

  WITH DEATH

  FRANCES HOELSEMA

  A Kiss with Death: Sealed with A Kiss Book 1

  © 2019 by Frances Hoelsema

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author as provided by USA copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Cover by The Cat’s Pyjamas│http://www.angelastevens.net/the-cats-pyjamas

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I want to thank God for the gifts He gives each person. Without Him, this book wouldn’t have become what it is.

  Secondly, many thanks to those who helped put this novel together. My husband, who helped plot it out. My sister, who pointed out the various flaws. My ARC team, who faithfully reads my work and provides feedback. And my cover designer and author friends, who make the book look and sound more attractive.

  Last, but not least, of course, a huge thank you to you, the reader. I appreciate your support and hope this book is found enjoyable and something worth sharing.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  CHAPTER 1

  T

  here, at the back of Tommygun Tavern, she perched herself at a high table. Her feet dangled freely in the air as she keenly watched the man who would, in just a few minutes, become her prey. The pair had made captivating eye contact numerous times since she had taken her seat, each time she threw in a smile to show interest. He always offered a dirty grin back as he moved from one woman to another on the dance floor. But now he was at the bar getting yet another drink. She sipped on her ice-cold water, waiting for him to look her way. When he did, they locked eyes, her eyes commanding him to finally come to her. He was a good listener.

  She put her drink onto the table. All around her went black; the music faded to the background. Her focus was solely on him. Finally, he was within arm’s reach.

  He glanced at her hand. For a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. But that had disappeared as quickly as it had come. Looking back into her eyes, he asked, “Nice gloves; you cold? I could help warm you up.” He guzzled down the liquid left in his shot glass.

  Leaning closer to him, she made sure to reveal a little more cleavage. Taking one hand, she gently placed it on top of one of his, forming small circles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her tone was highly suggestive. She was looking for one thing. One thing only.

  And he took the bait.

  Without any further conversation, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from her seat. The motion was so hasty, she had to lean far over to grab her purse. She couldn’t be without her purse. That would defeat the whole purpose.

  Guiding her through the bar, she had to practically jog to keep up with his swift swagger. Passing the dance floor, she knew exactly where they were headed. She knew exactly what they were about to do. Everything was working out perfectly.

  They turned the corner to the hallway leading to the restrooms. He stumbled over his own foot, her body ramming into his backside. He turned to look at her, chuckling. She gave a quick giggle to play along. Then they were off again.

  If anyone had seen the two, they would have been mistaken for two naughty teenagers heading for a small, dark closet so that they could play seven minutes in heaven. But no one had seen them. Not even the bartender. She made sure of that. She couldn’t risk everything getting screwed up.

  Once they were safely inside the men’s bathroom, she stood against the cold wall. He brushed passed her, his arm grazing against hers. He twisted the lock so no one could disturb them.

  Then he stood before her. He gazed into her eyes. She gazed into his. Both spoke a common language without saying a word. And good for him, he was quick at picking up on all her signals and following through.

  Just like that, with powerful momentum, his hands cradled her face, bringing her red, voluptuous lips to his. They melted into one another as if one’s lips were specifically designed to complete the others.

  At first.

  As his intensity grew, his tongue penetrated her mouth. If he hadn’t had too many alcoholic beverages, she could see how he may be a good kisser; he had the right technique. Unfortunately, he did have too much to drink, and his precision was horrendous. She felt like she was kissing an excited dog.

  But this was all part of the game. And it wasn’t over yet. So, play along she did.

  He pinned her against the wall with his hard abs, her back again feeling the coldness of the tile. One of his hands now folded into hers, rising it above her head, further keeping her in place. His other hand now a ravenous creature, working its way to the mound of flesh just above her plunging neckline.

  She moaned so he would believe he was doing all the right things.

  Someone from the outside twiddled the doorknob. Their lips unlocked and their eyes rushed to the direction the noise came in.

  Sheer terror took hold of her. Though she was panting, she remained quiet. No one could know she was in there. She could not risk getting caught.

  “I’m busy!” He was angry. How dare anyone disturb him?

  “Sorry, man,” came the muted reply. “But what do you need the whole bathroom for?”

  “BEAT IT!”

  “Okay, okay, okay.”

  When nothing more was heard for a few brief moments, he wanted to resume position. She, however, had a much better idea. After all, it would provide a little more security. Privacy. Nodding to one of the stalls, he caught her drift, and this time, gently took her hand to lead her there.

  The two of them inside, he nudged the door shut. Now they were back at square one, staring into each other’s hungry eyes. Her eyes screamed yes and would continue to do so until he claimed her. Which didn’t take long.

  He put his thumb up to her full lips and touched them seductively. As he looked at her, she could have sworn he was trying to study her features. To memorize everything about her as if he knew this would be the only chance he had with her.

  To move things along slightly faster, she opened her lips and allowed her tongue to lick the tip of his thumb. Then she sucked on the whole thing. The whole time keeping her gaze solely on his eyes.

  Gently, he lifted her chin up. Lowering his face, he caressed her lips with his own. He was slow and tender at first. But the more she moaned, his intensity grew. The next thing she knew, they were back to where they had been before some hopeless soul disturbed them with the twist of a knob. While his one hand rested behind her neck to keep her from leaving his lips, the other went roaming to places that they both found enjoyable.

  Her hands were another story. In one she held her purse. The purse that she would need in a few short minutes. The other hand was wide open, her fingers running through his slick, dark hair.
Then it moved to his chest and felt the firmness through his white t-shirt. Really, when all was said and done, she might actually miss him. He was attractive. His tan skin gave him a Ken doll vibe. His body felt good, even with the gloves on. He made her feel good. The only thing that needed work was his kissing. But she was confident that would be a different story had he been sober.

  Oh, well. What must be done must be done.

  The next thing she knew, he had grabbed both sides of her bottom and hoisted her up so she straddled him. A tiny shriek escaped her lips. Things were finally going somewhere. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Both played with each other’s tongues in heated passion. As her legs kept their place around him, he would run his hands along her thighs and to her back end, rubbing whatever he could reach. He’d then move up her torso and to her chest. He even undid some of the top buttons so the contents could be more free. More assessable. With all his movements, he didn’t stay in one place very long.

  It wasn’t until he started to unbuckle his dark jeans that her signal had arrived. As he busied himself, she nonchalantly took one of her hands and reached for her purse. Carefully, she opened it and reached inside. It didn’t take long to feel the item she was searching for. Taking it out, she positioned it right between her fingers.

  She looked at him carefully. He was looking down, now reaching for her underwear. He had no idea what was about to get him. Poor guy. Poor, poor guy.

  Wait, she thought. He isn’t poor. He deserves this.

  With one fluid movement, with the force of a hammer to a nail, she thrusted the needle into the bulging vein at the side of his neck.

  He swiftly moved back, her legs dropping to the floor. His hands once on her now held the spot she had injected him.

  She saw his features twist into a hideous grimace. She suspected the roiling emotions within his wide eyes contained one-part terror, two-parts confusion, and maybe a smidgen of anger.

  “Holy sh…” he started. He rubbed his neck a little. Looking at her, he growled, “What the fu…man, that hurt!”

  She didn’t say anything. Instead, she intently watched him. Watched for signs that it would work. So far, the only thing that seemed wrong was the pain he felt at the injection site. But she knew that couldn’t go on forever.

  Panic started to set in. Her breathing became labored. What if it didn’t work? What if he hurts her? Worse, what if he walks out of here and she gets caught? That would ruin everything! She could have sworn everything had been planned to a T. She thought for sure she had the calculations down. It had to work. It just had to! With bated breath, she waited. The seconds felt like minutes. Hours even. But however long it had been, it was too long.

  Then, his one arm clung to his chest. He stumbled backward into the corner between the stall’s wall and the toilet. He winced in pain, turning side to side in hopes to get comfortable.

  Her lips creased into a sly smile. It did work! Next would be the finale!

  He continued holding his chest, his eyes closed, and his face pinched in pain. Each breath he took was one he had to wrestle for. And the more he struggled, the more beads of sweat popped up around his hairline.

  “What…” He paused, trying to catch his breath. “Have you…”

  She didn’t think he was going to even be able to finish that question. But lo and behold, the last word made it through his lips.

  “Done?”

  It was a mumbling, soft finish to his sentence, but she heard it nonetheless. She never answered. Couldn’t even if she wanted to. His body had slouched further to the floor, his hand that held so tightly to his chest now laying limp by his side. There was no more rising and falling of the chest to signify life. What she had set out to do had been completed. Now it was time to clean up and get out of there before someone saw her with the dead body.

  Though she wore gloves, she couldn’t be too careful. Heading to the double-sink vanity top, she pulled out numerous paper towels. Anything she remembered touching, hands or otherwise, she wiped down. More than once she was stopped in her tracks, appalled at how dirty this men’s bathroom was. She hadn’t noticed at first, but then again, her sight and mind were occupied. Both urinals were stained with more than just urine. The one stall had a toilet not yet flushed. Thank goodness it appeared to be nothing more than toilet paper remains. The one she was just in happened to be the cleanest. Except now there was a dead body so perhaps not. Flies buzzed back and forth above the waste basket. The walls themselves were cracked. Worn. Shivers zipped up and down her spine as she thought of how dirty this place was. Then her mind wandered to men. Men in general were dirty, filthy pigs.

  Dumping another round of paper towel into the basket, she cringed. She couldn’t wait to get home and take a hot shower. Picturing it almost literally made her relax. Warm water cascading down her shoulders and along her clean, fresh skin was her Zen.

  She did a once over. Everything looked normal. The man she was with looked like he had just died of natural causes. There were no indications of a fight or foul play of any kind. The injection site had even appeared like nothing more than a tiny pimple. She hoped that by the time he was found, even that would be gone. Satisfied, she started to walk towards the door.

  Right when her gloved hand touched the knob, she remembered the most important piece to this game. She reached in her purse, grabbed out a card and her pen, and began to write the message she had rehearsed in her head.

  It was simple. To the point. All it said was #1. Then she sealed it with a kiss. She was careful to not go too heavy on it, but with enough pressure to show up for others to see. After this kiss, she signed her name: Margaret.

  She went back to the dead body and looked for the best place to stick this piece of memorabilia. She didn’t want it to be found too quickly. But she didn’t want it to be missed. Not one hundred percent sure, she took a chance on sticking it in the pocket of his jeans. Surely someone would stick their hand in there and find it.

  That was it. She was impressed. She had pulled off her first murder.

  Walking out of the stall, she noticed a window on the far end of the room. It was a smaller window, but with her petite frame, it shouldn’t be a problem. Climbing out of that was for sure the better route than risking someone seeing her come out of the men’s bathroom without a man in tow.

  Examining the window, she realized this escape was going to be easier than she thought. All she had to do was push the side a little bit and it arched its way up. She couldn’t have been more pleased. After unlocking the bathroom door, she quickly leaped into the windowsill, and one limb after another, pushed her way through. Free on the other side, she closed it.

  She stood up straight. Brushed herself off. Held her chin high. Walked confidently away from the crime scene. Each step she took brought her closer to home. Closer to freedom. A smile donned her face.

  Everything had gone as planned. Everything worked like a charm. One victim was down.

  Now it was on to the next one.

  CHAPTER 2

  Earlier that day…

  P

  rofessor Laura Keaton took a seat in the one remaining uncomfortable chair in the room, plopping her bag down beside her. With both her hands, she pulled her skirt back down to her knees where it belonged. After, she crossed one leg over the other.

  Sitting beside her was one of her colleagues, Mr. Chris Peterson, a man who looked more like a coach than a professor. His way of teaching matched his physique, causing many to wonder why he just didn’t go that route in his professional career. Laura quickly glanced in his direction, a half-smile on her lips. He was slouched, knees bobbing up and down. He never looked her way. Never smiled back.

  And across from the two, behind a large, brown, glass-topped desk, sat the dean, Thomas Hilton. Their boss. Their mentor. The one person they both wanted to be someday. He sat back in his leather chair, one leg crossed on top of the other knee, hands springing back and forth at just the fingertips. Looking through t
he top of his glasses, he offered a smile.

  Neither Laura nor Chris knew why they were called in to see Hilton. Both were looking at him for answers.

  “Thank you for coming. I know this is very short notice, and you’ve all got things to get to, so I’ll try not to keep you for long.”

  Laura waved him off. “Oh, you’re fine, sir. No problem.”

  Chris voiced his agreement.

  Now leaning forward, elbows on the desk, Hilton filled them in. “I’ve accepted a job in California, and the Board has asked me to help find a replacement.”

  The news piqued the interest of the two colleagues. They liked the direction this conversation was going. As long as the destination was what they thought it was.

  “I’ve brought you both here,” Hilton continued, “Because I’ve narrowed it down to one of you.”

  Laura’s eyes widened. Her mouth about dropped to the floor. She never saw this coming, not in a million years! But it’s something she’s always wanted.

  Chris sat up, smiling. “Wow, sir, that’s – I don’t know the word I’m looking for, but wow. Thank you. What an honor!”

  Both men looked at Laura, who still sat, shocked.

  Noticing them, she quickly composed herself. “Uh, yeah, what an incredible honor! I don’t know what to say!”

  While the dean carried on reasons why he chose to make the move – something about family – Laura started envisioning what she would do with the office space should she be the one selected. The one thing that would go for sure was the Picasso-style painting on the wall between the windows. She never cared for his artwork. In its place, she’d do something more picturesque. Maybe a beach portrait. Or perhaps something by the late Thomas Kinkade. She always did enjoy the way he used colors. They were vibrant. Realistic.