Kiss and Kill Read Online Free Page A

waved toward the living room. “Souvenirs from everywhere but Mexico. Why?”
    â€œShe’d outgrown tourist junk, I suppose.”
    â€œOr was too busy to bother.”
    Ed’s mouth hardened. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI’m exploring, Ed. Have you noticed any difference in your personal relationship lately?”
    â€œNo. We’ve always got along—”
    â€œI mean your sex relationship.”
    â€œOh.” Ed flushed, and looked down into his cup. When he spoke, his tone was defensive. “There’s always a change, I suppose. Sex isn’t a ritual you follow from marriage to death like communion. When she got home from Mexico, it was like a honeymoon. But … maybe we burned ourselves out. I don’t know. Also, I’ve been working harder than usual.…” His voice trailed off.
    Barney waited a minute. “May I see the letters she wrote from Mexico?”
    â€œSure.” Ed rose and went into the living room. He returned with a half-inch stack of letters and postcards. “They’re arranged by date. The earliest is on top.”
    Barney opened a blue envelope with a San Antonio postmark. Liz had a slashing, diagonal handwriting that danced like her eyes.
    Dearest Ed,
    Tomorrow we leave. Alamo Tours has taken us under its wing, our driver weighs three hundred pounds if he’s an ounce, and we’ll be wheeling along in an air-conditioned Cadillac limousine. I met the other members of the group and of course you can’t judge from first appearances, but there’s an old couple from Colorado whom I already dearly love. They remind me of that old radio act, Fibber McGee and Molly. He tells jokes that aren’t funny, but they really are , if you know what I mean. I can see you, Old Iron Puss, you’d look at him with a serious face but inside you’d be smiling. His wife reminds me of Mrs. Truman.
    There’s also an industrial librarian from Indianapolis. She loves animals. When she heard I had a dog she latched on to me. She has a cat named Charles she left behind … Oh, there are some others—a gorgeous lady photographer who is chic , simply the last word. What clothes! Makes me feel dressed for a hayride. There’s one man who seems rather sullen and strange, but I suppose he’ll loosen up. Oh, yes, a high school teacher (male) from Detroit, going down to study the people. Asked what my “motivation” was … very studious and intent, like you, only not nearly so handsome, darling. I said I’m going because it’s free !
    I can hardly wait. We’ll be in Mexico tomorrow at ten, so says Blimpo, our driver. Wish you were here, lover. Three weeks before I see you? I won’t think about it.
    Adios, LIZ
    For the first few days she had written a chatty letter each evening, as though she were talking to him across the supper table. She had a habit of nicknaming people: Miss Fashion-Plate was the woman photographer, Stoneface the man who had been sullen the first day. The librarian from Indianapolis she kept referring to as the Cat Woman.
    But gradually the personal, exuberant note faded. The last intimate letter had come from Mazatlán, in which she described going deep-sea fishing and getting a sunburn: … took off my suit in the hotel and I looked like an Indian maiden in white brassiere and panties. If you were here tonight, Man, there’d be no hanky-panky. On second thought, I’m not burned there . Hey! I’d better stop that line of thought. Might color my dreams …
    But there were no more of those. The following letlers were like duty notes to Aunt Tillie. These in turn dwindled to mere postcards which began “Dear Ed” and ended “Liz.”
    Barney selected six of the postcards and fanned them out on the table like a poker hand. “Look at these, Ed. See anything strange?”
    Ed squinted at the cards. “No.”
    â€œThey’re written