Read A Kiss Before Dying for Free Online

Zurich pamphlet. He heard the sound of a key in the door, and then the door opening and closing. A minute later, it opened and closed again, and the sound of the man’s footsteps diminished and then changed to a stair-climbing rhythm.
    He resumed his former position and lit a cigarette. After one puff he dropped it and ground it under his foot; a girl had appeared, coming towards him. There was a lab manual in her hand. She had lanky brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses. She was taking a brass key from the pocket of her smock.
    He lessened the pressure of the manual under his arm, letting it drop down into his left hand, conspicuous with its green cover. With a last casual finger-flick at the Zurich folder, he moved to the supply-room door, not looking at the approaching girl. He fumbled with his key-chain as though the keys had caught in the pocket’s lining. When he finally brought out the bunch of keys the girl was already at the door. His attention was on the keys, shuffling through them, apparently looking for a certain one. It seemed as though he didn’t become conscious of the girl’s presence until she had inserted her key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door partially open, smiling up at him. ‘Oh, thanks,’ he said, reaching over her to push the door wide, his other hand tucking the keys back in his pocket. He followed the girl in and closed the door behind them.
    It was a small room with counters and shelves filled with labelled bottles and boxes and odd-looking apparatus. The girl touched a wall switch, making fluorescent tubes wink to life, incongruous among the room’s old-fashioned fittings. She went to the side of the room and opened her manual on a counter there. ‘Are you in Aberson’s class?’ she asked.
    He went to the opposite side. He stood with his back to the girl, facing a wall of bottles. ‘Yes,’ he said.
    Faint clinkings of glass and metal sounded in the room. ‘How’s his arm?’
    ‘About the same, I guess,’ he said. He touched the bottles, pushing them against each other, so the girl’s curiosity should not be aroused.
    ‘Isn’t that the craziest thing?’ she said. ‘I hear he’s practically blind without his glasses.’ She lapsed into silence.
    Each bottle had a white label with black lettering. A few bore an additional label that glared poisonin red. He scanned the rows of bottles quickly, his mind registering only the red-labelled ones. The list was in his pocket, but the names he had written on it shimmered in the air before him as though printed on a gauze screen.
    He found one. The bottle was a bit above eye level not two feet from where he stood. White Arsenic – As 4 O 6 s – POISON . It was half filled with white powder. His hand moved towards it, stopped.
    He turned slowly until he could see the girl from the corner of his eye. She was pouring some yellow powder from the tray of a balance into a glass cup. He turned back to the wall and opened his manual on the counter. He looked at meaningless pages of diagrams and instructions.
    At last the girl’s movements took on sounds of finality; the balance being put away, a drawer closing. He leaned more closely over the manual, following the lines of print with a careful finger. Her footsteps moved to the door. ‘So long,’ she said.
    ‘So long.’
    The door opened and closed. He looked around. He was alone.
    He took his handkerchief and the envelopes from his pocket. With the handkerchief draped over his right hand, he lifted the arsenic bottle from the shelf, put it on the counter, and removed the stopper. The powder was like flour. He poured about a tablespoonful into the envelope; it fell in whispering puffs. He folded the envelope into a tight pack, folded that into a second envelope and pocketed it. After he had stoppered and replaced the bottle he moved slowly around the room, reading the labels on drawers and boxes, the third envelope held open in his hand.
    He found what he wanted within several