A Kiss Before Dying

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Authors: Ira Levin
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mother, like daughter.’ Still, there might be an inquiry …
    He would certainly be dragged into that. They had been seen together, though not as frequently as might be expected. In the beginning, when success with Dorothy had been in question, he had not taken her to popular places; there had been that other rich girl last year, and if Dorothy didn’t work out as he planned there would be others in the future; he didn’t want the reputation of a money-chaser. Then, when Dorothy did work out, they had gone to movies, to his room, and to quiet places like Gideon’s. Meeting at the bench rather than in the dorm lounge had become a custom.
    He would be involved in any inquiry all right, but Dorothy hadn’t told anyone they were going steady, so other men would be involved too. There was the red-headed one she’d been chatting with outside the classroom the day he first saw her and noticed the copper-stamped Kingship on her matches, and the one she’d started knitting argyle socks for, and every man she’d dated once or twice – they would all be brought into it, and then it would be anybody’s guess as to who had ‘ruined’ her because all would deny it. And as thorough as the investigation might be, Kingship could never be certain that he hadn’t completely overlooked the ‘guilty’ party. There would be suspicion directed at all the men, proof against none.
    No, everything would be perfect. There would be no quitting school, no shipping clerk’s job, no oppressing wife and child, no vengeful Kingship. Only one tiny shadow … Suppose he were pointed out around campus as one of the men who’d gone with Dorothy. Suppose that the girl who had let him into the supply room should see him again, hear who he was, learn that he wasn’t a Pharmacy student at all … But even that was unlikely, out of twelve thousand students … But suppose the very worst happened. Suppose she saw him, remembered, and went to the police. Even then, it would be no evidence. So he was in the supply room. He could make up some kind of excuse and they would have to believe him, because there would still be the note, the note in Dorothy’s handwriting. How could they explain—
    The door at the side of the room opened, creating a draught that lifted the pages of his notebook. He turned to see who it was. It was Dorothy.
       
    Shock burst over him, hot as a wave of lava. He half rose, blood rushing to his face, his chest a block of ice. Sweat dotted his body and crawled like a million insects. He knew it was written on his face in swollen eyes and burning cheeks, written for her to see, but he couldn’t stop it. She was looking at him wonderingly, the door closing behind her. Like any other day; books under her arm, green sweater, plaid skirt. Dorothy. Coming to him, made anxious by his face.
    His notebook slapped to the floor. He bent down, seizing the momentary escape. He stayed with his face near the side of the seat, trying to breathe. What happened? Oh God! She didn’t take the pills! She couldn’t have! She lied! The bitch. The lying goddamned bitch! The note on its way to Ellen – Oh Jesus, Jesus!
    He heard her sliding into her seat. Her frightened whisper – ‘ What’s wrong? What’s the matter? ’ He picked up the notebook and sat erect, feeling the blood drain from his face, from his entire body, leaving him dead cold with sweat drops moving. ‘ What’s wrong? ’ He looked at her. Like any other day. There was a green ribbon in her hair. He tried to speak but it was as if he were empty inside with nothing to make a sound. ‘ What is it? ’ Students were turning to look. Finally he scraped out, ‘Nothing – I’m all right—’
    ‘You’re sick! Your face is as grey as—’
    ‘I’m all right. It’s – it’s this,’ touching his side where she knew he had the army scar. ‘It gives me a twinge once in a while—’
    ‘God, I thought you were having a heart attack or something,’ she whispered.
    ‘No.

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