A Kiss With Death

by Frances Hoelsema

  “What did you find?” the detective asked.

  “There is, in fact, a small prick on his neck. Come take a look,” she said, waving him over.

  Detective Kojak went around to the other side, bending down again. He examined closely the area she was referring to. “And this is what you’ve seen on the others?”

  Betsy looked him in the eyes. “Exactly,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  The sound of a vehicle approaching, accompanied by headlights shining in the room, made Detective Kojak look outside. They weren’t expecting anyone else. The car went to the right. It was the neighbor. As the others finished their business, he’d talk with them to see if they knew anything, saw anything, or even heard anything that was off.

  A few minutes later, he walked a couple steps next door. After ringing the doorbell, he patted his brown hair down, making sure it was still parted correctly. He put his hands in his jacket pocket, waiting for an answer. When the person came to the door, he was shocked.

  The dead man’s neighbor was none other than Ms. Laura Keaton!

  “Detective! What is going on? What happened to Sammy?” Her voice was frantic.

  Detective Kojak’s eyebrows arched. “You’re his neighbor?”

  She nodded swiftly. “Yes, for like the last few years. What happened?”

  He could have easily said something sardonic. After all, to him, Laura was making out to be the killer. But he didn’t. He kept his tone even and words brief. “He was found dead.”

  Ms. Keaton’s mouth fell open. She put a hand to it.

  He casually peeked around her to see inside. Nothing appeared fishy. “What were you doing yesterday?”

  She paused, thinking about it. “I went out to lunch with my boyfriend. We took a walk along the beach. I also went for a run and chatted with a friend in town.”

  “So, were you gone all day?”

  “No, I was home in the morning, a little in the afternoon, and then all evening.”

  “Was anyone else with you to testify to that?”

  “Not when I was home, no.” She was becoming guarded.

  Detective Kojak slowly nodded. “And did you happen to see anything or anyone at Sammy’s? Did you hear anything?”

  Ms. Keaton shook her head.

  “Okay. Well, if you think of anything, you know how to get ahold of me.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She bit her lip.

  The detective left her side of the unit, the door behind him closing. He tied up a few loose ends and headed back to the office. On the way there, he called in a request for someone to research Laura Keaton to see if she had a past with the law.

  Then he did something he hadn’t in a while. He briefly laughed. Not because he was overjoyed. But relieved. He just knew they were on the cusp of getting all these murder cases settled. It was almost as if the culprit handed him the answer on a platter. She should have been more careful, if she didn’t want to get caught. Constantly showing up would get her nowhere. And that’s exactly where he intended for her to go.

  * * *

  As soon as Laura had pulled up her shared driveway a short while ago, she knew something was dreadfully wrong. Never did she think her neighbor, Sammy, was dead, though! Disturbing the peace, indecent exposure, drugs, embezzlement, or any number of crimes would have been more likely. She knew it would have been only a matter of time before the cops were over there because he did something. But not because he was dead. And because someone killed him.

  Had a deal gone bad? Was a woman jealous of his other women? Did someone kill him because they were tired of his attitude and disrespect?

  She just couldn’t believe it. Sammy was gone. No more Sammy. A tiny part of her felt sorry. Maybe even sad.

  Laura sat on the couch after retreating inside the safety of her home when Detective Kojak left. Her knees were tucked up on under her arms, chin resting on top. Rhythmically, she rocked. This was all so weird.

  On one hand she was angry. She was innocent, but the detective had his eye on her. She’s never even hurt a fly! How could he say she was behind murdering these men?

  On the other hand, she had to calm down. Her anxiety was starting to flare up, making it hard to breath. What would become of her? Of her possible promotion? Of her future?

  Back and forth she went, begging to know when this nightmare would end. It was almost worse than the ones she experienced in her mind at night while she slept.

  She picked up the phone to call her boyfriend. Talking with him might calm her. It rang, and rang, and rang. Finally, Connor’s voice came on, asking the caller to leave a message. She ended the call without obliging.

  Her mind was racing, and her heart acted as if it was trying to keep up. It was time to take a pill. Laura ambled to the bathroom. She opened her medicine cabinet, but didn’t find any Xanax. This did not go over well for her. The muscles in her back and arms started to tense up. She had to find one somewhere. Yanking the drawers out one by one, she rummaged through them to find a pill. There was nothing.

  My purse! She briskly made her way to the bedroom where her purse sat on top of her dresser. Pulling it down, she peered inside, messing things up in search for the Xanax. At the bottom, she found it. She twisted the top off and popped the pill in her mouth. It stayed there until she chased it down with some water.

  Laura went to sit down on the couch once more, dialing her boyfriend again. No answer. She tossed her phone on the coffee table, frustrated.

  Scratching an itch on the back of her neck gave her an idea. Perhaps she should just take a shower. Getting clean always made people feel better. The warm water would help to relieve some tension. So, that’s what she did. By the time she was done, she almost felt normal again. Except her place was eerily quiet. There were no more vibrations coming through the walls. Although this was what she wanted, she didn’t want it like this.

  She looked at the clock. It was close to seven. Surprisingly, she wasn’t even hungry. And all she really wanted to do was go to bed.

  But first, she wanted to talk with Connor. She dialed his number for the third time that day. His voicemail was apparently the closest she’d get to hearing from him.

  Her friend, Marissa, popped in her head. Maybe she could call her. After dialing and hearing only two rings, her friend’s cheery voice answered.

  “Hey, Marissa. Do you have time to talk?” She knew she sounded grim.

  After talking with her for fifteen minutes, she hung up. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Marissa made a lot of sense. If she was, in fact, innocent, just listen to the cops and be as cooperative as possible. Everything would surely work out in the end. Laura was also reminded that if there wasn’t proof she was the killer, there was nothing to worry about. The cops don’t sentence people for no reason.

  Laura got into bed, turned her bedside lamp off, and pulled the covers up over her head. This day could not be over soon enough. She just needed to sleep and forget about it all.

  CHAPTER 17

  T

  he next morning came too soon. Laura awoke feeling groggy and sore. Though she didn’t remember having trouble sleeping, she didn’t feel fully rested. Tired and with a pounding headache, she slowly sat up in bed. The sheets were a mess, much like she felt. A tornado must have touched down solely on her bed and in her brain while she lay asleep.

  She didn’t want to go to work. This was the first time since starting Capstone University that she dreaded the day ahead of her. And thankfully this wasn’t the Tuesday she had book club. What had become of her? Everything she enjoyed and lived for no longer excited her. Was it all because some detective thought she was guilty of killing some men? He didn’t know her from the next woman so why should she care? But she did.

  Laura dragged her feet out of bed and decided to get on with her day. She couldn’t run from her responsibilities forever. Though, at this point, it was appealing. It was early still, but there was no harm in going to school before her normal time. She�
��d just take her time and hope somewhere along the way she could get rid of this nasty pounding in her head. If someone could just stop hammering the top of her head, maybe she’d feel better. Maybe.

  Driving to work was hard. The sun was fully out, shining directly on her car, through her window, and into the retinas. It did not help her splitting headache, that by now should have been gone. Taking a couple ibuprofen usually did the trick. Even with sunglasses, she was squinting and having a hard time focusing. But thankfully she made it.

  Her bag in hand, she exited the vehicle and ambled inside. She felt miserable. Am I coming down with something again?

  She passed a couple of bodies in the hallway as she made her way to the office area. Having not checked her mail in a while, now was a good time to do so. Her box was not too full. Nothing surprising. As she flipped through them, a sudden sharp pain on her left temple penetrated her. She winced, putting her hand to the affected area.

  “Laura, can you come into my office for a moment, please?”

  Mr. Hilton’s voice startled her. She didn’t know he was there. And his tone didn’t sound cheery. This wasn’t going to be good.

  “Um, sure,” she responded hesitantly.

  She followed him into his office, which was just down the hall a little further. He closed the door behind them, in typical Hilton fashion. What wasn’t so typical, and to which Laura caught on to in a flash, was that he didn’t offer her a seat. Was this not going to take long? Or could it be something worse? Try not to look too much into things, Laura! Calm down!

  “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush here…”

  Great. Here it comes!

  Mr. Hilton pretended to arrange papers on his desk. Sheepishly looking up, he added, “But I’ve decided to give Mr. Peterson the dean position.”

  “But Mr. Hilton, I –” she started, taking a couple steps forward.

  He put his hands up. “With everything going on around…” he took a quick glance around as if he was afraid someone would hear. In a hushed voice, he finished with, “You know, with the murders, there’s no way the Board would agree to let you take the role.”

  Laura cocked her head to the side. “Just because I’ve had to talk with the cops because I knew some of the men doesn’t mean I did it or anything. It’s just a coincidence!” Her voice raised a little higher than she intended. The side on her head pounded more.

  “I know, I know. But the detective seems to think you have something to do with it. Now I –”

  Crossing her arms, she asked, “What do you think? Do you think I’m guilty?”

  The dean hesitated, rubbing the sides of his mustache.

  “Well?”

  “No, no, I don’t. But I’m also not the cops. I don’t know what they all have on you.”

  She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Look, you know I would be perfect for this job. It’s something I’ve wanted to be since I was young. Please don’t take it from me.” Her face pleaded even more than her voice did.

  His lanky body took a seat. “I’m sorry, Laura. I really am. To be honest, I was leaning toward you. I really was. But with all of this going on, I just can’t. It wouldn’t be wise.”

  “But, sir, I –”

  “That’s all, Ms. Keaton. You may go.”

  Laura’s eyes started to tear up.

  “And take the day off why don’t you? You look like you’re a mess.”

  She nodded, not saying a word. Turning around, she sullenly left, swiping a tear off her cheek.

  Being her luck, who would happen to be standing by the mail slots? It was none other than Chris Peterson, the one who would soon be her boss. She wished she could have avoided him, but there was no other way out. The best she could do was look somewhat presentable so that he wouldn’t question anything. That, and try to avoid eye contact and walk swiftly passed him. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice her.

  Just when she thought she was home free, he said, “Hey, Laura. Where are you off to so fast?”

  She stiffened. Looking back carefully, she answered. “Oh, hi. Just heading home. Got a horrible headache.” She pointed to her head and forced a small smile.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Laura didn’t believe him. His frown almost resembled a cocky grin. Matched with his khakis and tight shirt that literally revealed every muscle in his chest, she could have sworn he was the coach of the football team that just won, yet had to tell the opposite team ‘good game’. Half the time she didn’t think anyone truly meant those words.

  “Thanks. Congrats by the way.”

  Chris looked confused, but she didn’t care. She turned around and hastily walked away.

  In the safety of her car, she sat still, rubbing her temples. Why wouldn’t this headache let up? She checked the time to see if she could take some more medicine. It was still a little early. Perhaps her boyfriend would be around. She decided to call him. However, the only answer she got was Connor’s voicemail. She pounded her fists into the steering wheel, yelling. Why couldn’t she get ahold of him? She needed to talk with him, hear his voice.

  The tears started to fall. Through blurred vision, she dialed her friend, Marissa. She answered on the third ring. Laura jumped right into her sob story, heaving and not making much sense.

  “Laura, calm down. I can hardly understand you. Why are you crying?”

  “I said” – sniff, sniff – “I didn’t” – sniff, sniff – “Get it!”

  “Didn’t get what?”

  “The dean position!”

  Marissa loudly sighed. “I’m so sorry. I know how much that meant to you.”

  Laura complained some more.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really think you should go talk with someone. These headaches and all the extra stress isn’t good for you,” Marissa suggested.

  Laura got more upset. “I don’t need to talk with anyone. What I do need is for my life to go back to the way it was!”

  “I know, I know, I know. Sorry.”

  After a brief moment of silence, Marissa talked first. “Look, I’ll come over after work. We can talk more. Okay?”

  Laura heaved out, “Okay.” She sniffed a bit more.

  When she hung up, she checked her face in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her cheeks looked as if someone slapped her. I’m such a mess!

  After doing her best at cleaning up, she drove home. It was still an awkward place to be. It was so quiet now. She never realized she’d be able to live there and hear all her own thoughts. It was a bit overwhelming.

  As soon as she got into the door, she slipped back into her pajamas. She grabbed a Xanax and another round of ibuprofen, even though it was still a little early. This headache had to go away. Crawling into bed, she covered the sheets over her head. Lying in her tomb, she fell asleep.

  * * *

  Her eyes were open, but everything was fuzzy. She couldn’t tell where she was. Feeling around, it must have been her own bed. It felt like the same cool sheets and the same fluffy down comforter. She sat up. Her nightstand was to the left, as it always was. This was definitely her room.

  There was a noise she could hear from outside. It was music. The vibrations were echoing through the walls and floor. I thought Sammy was dead!

  More noises could be heard. The sounds of people partying. She tried rubbing her eyes and seeing if that would allow her to see better. It didn’t. Who was having a party? She wanted to know.

  Someone started twisting the doorknob to her bedroom. She jerked her head to that direction, her heart starting to race. There shouldn’t be anyone here. Who was it? How did they get in?

  A man’s voice greeted her. He sounded a little upset. But there was something else in his tone. Need? Lust? Her stomach started to turn as this reminded her of her all-too-familiar past. She tried placing the voice, but couldn’t.

  “What do you want? How did you get in here?”

  He didn’t answer. Was he still there? Th
e sudden hold around her neck told her he was. She tried breaking free. She even tried yelling for help or gasping for breath. Nothing was working.

  The man pushed her down. He was so strong. She felt like a bug he could squash. And then he started to touch her. His hands were in places they didn’t belong. She tried to wriggle from his grasp. It was the moment he went lower, taking off her bottoms, that she was able to feel around with her hand. Surprisingly, she could reach her nightstand. Perhaps there was something there she could use to get him off her.

  Her hand touched something. There was a handle. The other side felt cold. Sharp. It was a knife! She briefly thought of how that could have gotten there, but quickly dismissed it. Who cared anyway if this would be the thing that saved her?

  Whoever this person was, he was going further and further with her. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would have his way with her and be done. She had to act now. With all her might, she thrust the knife into him. Furiously, she did so again. And again. And again. His cries of pain echoed in her mind.

  It wasn’t long until the man was off her. Did he run away? Or worse, was he dead? She didn’t care. She was free. She had won. Now it was time she got out of there.

  Seeing as she still couldn’t see, she carefully stood up, fixing her clothes. I thought I had pajamas on? She shook the thought free. No time to think. It was time to move. She felt the music’s bass through the floor. It sent rhythmic pulses up her legs, and the drumbeat matched her racing heart. Slowly, she headed toward the direction she believed her door was. Her arms were held out to prevent banging into anything.

  One of her feet hit something, though. It felt like a body. Him! Whoever it was! She crouched down to see if there was a heartbeat. She didn’t feel one. But she did feel moist liquid oozing from his chest.

  Reaching for the face, she tried to see if she could picture who it was by feeling. But then a miracle of all miracles happened. Her sight had been restored to full. Everything became crystal clear. And this was not her bedroom. This was not her house. She had no idea where she was. But she did know who she killed.