Kiss and Kill [antikvár]

The thing began on a cool and windy April evening in Chicago, in a basement apartment on the North Side.It began with Edward Tollman, the footsteps, and the loaf of bread.Ed was sketching a cabinet design for a combination radiophonograph at his worktable when he heard the street door open, faintly, and the sound of footsteps growing louder as they crossed the foyer and paused outside the apartment door. He paid no attention, but worked on, the cuffs of his white shirt turned back from his furry forearms.By the watch on his wrist it was 7:05.At seven-fifteen he leaned back. He flexed his fingers and shook a cigaret out of the pack on his drawing board, unconsciously imitating the he-men of the TV commercials."How long tni supper?" he called out. Liz did not answer, and he slewed about on his chair. "Liz?"AU he heard now was silence.He slid off the chair, looked into the kitchen, the bathroom. They were empty. He walked back through the living room, where he had been working, and glanced into the bedroom. She was not there, either. She was not in the apartment at aU.He went back to the living room. It was sunken three steps down from a tiny foyer at the apartment door, and he went up the steps, opened the door, and looked into the vestibule. No one. But leaning against the wall to the side of the apartment door there was a paper bag. He knew what it contained before he stooped to pick it up; he could smeU it. It contained a loaf of freshly baked bread, still warm.