Killer Kisses Read Free

smoky aroma of lapsang souchong. “Huckleberry and Jim, you have to move. I don’t want to catch your tails on fire.”
    A one-eared brown tabby and a balding black cat hopped down from the counter with twin thuds. She opened another cabinet to get sugar. A cat sat there, staring at her.
    “Tom Sawyer! Have you been in there all day?” She laughed and shook her head.
    The large, one-eyed, black and white cat leaped down onto the counter. “Mrrp?”
    A loud thumping at the door nearly made her drop her mug.
    “I KNOW you’re in there, Polly Griggs!”
    She tiptoed to the door, careful not to step on tails or paws. The landlord’s lumpy, bulbous nose was magnified by the fisheye peephole. When he drank, it was bright red. Like now.
    “What do you want?”
    “I want you and your cats out!”
    “I saw the notice, Mr. Greeley. I have thirty days.”
    “Out, out—out!” He pounded at the door.
    “You have no right to yell at me. I’ll call the police.”
    “I own the police!” The door shuddered with each blow of his fist.
    Her heart responded to the hammering with an erratic thumping. She felt lightheaded and sat down hard in the armchair, startling Tabbish. Then, she heard a young man’s voice.
    “M-Mr. G-Greeley, you know, you’re b-bothering the b-building.”
    “I’m the landlord, Stutterin’ Simon. She’s got all those damn cats and she has to get OUT!”
    “L-leave her alone, or I’m c-calling the p-police.”
    Greeley’s harsh laugh echoed in the hallway. He cursed, mumbled, and at last was silent, as his footsteps thudded down the stairs.
    A light tap sounded, and Polly opened the door to allow the tall, muscular young man into her apartment.
    “P-Polly, are you okay?” He stood looking down at the floor.
    “Yes, thank you, Simon.” 
    Every time she saw him, she found herself taking quick, shallow breaths as butterflies flapped in her stomach. He had beautiful wavy dark hair, a handsome symmetrical face, and large blue eyes.   His name should be Adonis, not Simon , she thought.
    “D-drunk.”
    “Again.”
    “Wh-what are you going to d-do?” His eyes were closed.
    I’m a fool, she thought. A dumpy, frizzy-haired fool. I disgust him so much, he won’t even look at me. “I don’t know. Where can I go with all my babies? Who would take them? They’re all old, blind, or crippled, all trying to survive, no thanks to Mr. Greeley.”
    “B-bully.”
    The teakettle whistled.
    “Cup of tea?”
    He nodded.
    “Milk and sugar?” She opened the refrigerator.
    He nodded again.
    “Have a seat. Just move Mitzi off that chair.”
    He picked the cat up, put her on his lap and rubbed her ears. Mitzi closed her eyes and purred while Simon looked around Polly’s immaculate kitchen, at the walls covered with vintage anti-war posters and photos.
    “Neat p-pictures.”
    She smiled. “My mother was quite a hell raiser in her day. Child of the sixties.”
    “Drugs?”
    She frowned and shook her head.“Never. She taught high school civics. Loved her job.” Sadness welled up in her chest. “My father died in Viet Nam, when I was tiny. My mother was devastated and protested against the war. Even chained herself to the White House fence. That’s her in that photo. See the baby in her arms?”
    He nodded.
    “That’s me.” She paused and sipped her tea from a chipped mug. “The school board said she was a bad influence on children. They sacked her.”
    “N-no!”
    “Took her a year to find another job. A year of hand-to-mouth poverty, my mother said.” Polly gazed at the photo in silence for a moment. “She died of breast cancer when I was a freshman in college. She’s the reason I majored in Political Science and became a high school teacher. But, enough about me. How are your classes this semester?”
    He swallowed hard, looked at his teacup, and spoke as he inhaled.
    “Speech class is b--bad. I n--need it to g-graduate. Have to g-give a talk the first week in February.”
    “Have you met