Page 12 of The Professor
“Who will be better off without you,” Grant said, his eyes flashing above his bandana.
“I…I…” Ray looked from Grant to Dalton and then me.
For a moment I thought he was going to try and run, but then he slumped against the wall and his eyes misted. “I’m sorry okay. I’ll turn my life around, I’ve been trying to. I can go straight and make amends. I’m so sorry, real sorry, man.”
“Sounds suspiciously like a confession?” I tipped my head and studied him. “Is it?”
“Whatever? I’ll say whatever you want me to.” He held up his hands in surrender.
“It’s too late for words.” Grant raised his gun so the business end was pointed a few feet from Ray’s head.
“Yeah, this conversation is over,” Dalton said, aiming at the murderer’s chest. “Words can’t bring those women back or undo your sins.”
“Get ready for the heat,” I said, my finger on the trigger. “Lots of heat.”
“Heat?” Ray appeared confused.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be hot as fuck in Hell.”
“What, no, wait, please I—”
“One. Two. Three.” I shot.
So did Dalton and Grant. All three bullets hitting Ray at the same time. We’d never be sure which one killed him, but dead he was. Before he even hit the ground.
Another score for Galahad and the good of mankind.
Chapter Four
Chelsea
“Hey, Chelsea, didn’t see you yesterday?”
“I was around.” I smiled at Ness. We’d done the undergraduate course together and both stayed on. The only two from Oxford who chose to. “I’ve been trying to get my thesis outline finalized.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
We headed over the lawn and past a huge rhododendron bush that was dotted with cerise flower heads. “I might see if Professor Deacon has time to look at mine,” Ness said. “He said he would.”
“He did? When?” I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise, like hackles. Did Ness have the hots for my man? Did he have the hots for her? Maybe Miss Slutty Shoes wasn’t my competition after all.
“Oh, just in an email he sent out the other week. I think it went to everyone.” She shrugged and held out her wrist. “Like this?”
“Sure. It’s nice.” I admired the slim silver bracelet with a tiny heart charm on it.
“We can’t all be like you and dripping in Tiffany and Cartier, but I like it.”
“It’s really nice. A present?”
“Yes, Edward got it for me. Out of the blue, no reason.”
“You’ve been on another date with him?” I recalled Edward. He was tall and slim with round glasses and had been seriously good playing Hamlet in a Shakespeare play last term.
“Not just another one, four dates. He gave me this over a pepperoni pizza at Cheesy Crust.”
“I like his style.” I smiled at her. “And I’m happy for you, that you’re getting along with your new man.”
“Oh, we are, we really are getting along. Means there’ll be no Sure Thing for us this year. We’ve already agreed that.”
