Suspect #12.
The Professor.
James is my old professor. He taught the core hospitality courses that followed me through the last two years of college at the University of Hawaii. He also is a an avid surfer and even moonlights for a local surfing instruction school on the weekends for tourists. Of all the suspects, I liken him the most to my dad. Calm, cool and collected.
Right now though, he is sweating it after receiving the call from detective Keele. He is going to be interviewed. I overheard his reaction in the detectives office and knew I had to get here before they did. He was hiding something.
"Fuck..."
He paces the floor of his office, back and forth between the opened window and his dark mahogany door. Trinkets from tourism locations tinkered and swayed in the breeze along his walls. He had traveled extensively while gaining tenure. Students past and present alike loved coming in here and looking at the collection he has amassed. It was quite impressive.
"Leilani....fuck me." He bemoaned.
I float near him and examine his desk. There is a smattering of papers everywhere. One of them had my name and under it a bunch of numbers. It looked like lottery numbers, about five sequences of them.
He takes out his phone and glances at the screen, unlocking it with a code. Up pops a weird app that looks like it is for a strip joint. A well endowed blonde wearing a see through bra dances across the screen. He taps on her assets to open the app. The screen scrambles then a message flashes across.
Entry denied....
"Shit! Not now.."
James hits the close button and drops his phone on the desk, clutching his head with both hands. He lets out a muffled cry and stands up. I have never seen him this mad before, or upset. He is usually so chilled out.
"Professor, can we go over todays grading scale before I head back home?"
His TA comes into the office, catching us both off guard.
"Is something wrong?" She asks, her eyes wide as she clutches a huge stack of papers.
"No. No...not right now. I'll call you later on tonight. Please just go home. I have an important meeting coming up any minute."
The TA keeps staring at him until he glares at her. She nods and scurries out, letting the outer room door shut loudly. Apparently he wasn't sleeping with that TA. When I was in his class it was known that he developed 'intimate' relationships with his student staff members. Even still, he was one of the most popular teachers at U of H.
Taking his pen, he crosses off the first set of numbers and then puts the paper away in the desk drawer. He clearly had an idea what to do with them, one that needed passwords. But why was my name on the paper? I had never done anything inappropriate with him, ever.
Before I could snoop further a knock sounded against the outer door.
The detectives were here.
🩸
"Please, detectives...?"
The professor framed the open ended question in hopes to garner their names.
"Detective Jones and this is detective Keele, my boss."
"Detective Jones and detective Keele, please, take a seat."
Choosing the love seat by the open window, both took out notepads this time. I hadn't seen them do this in tandem yet. Something big must be up.
"I am sure by now you know I used to be Ms. Miller's professor."
YOU ARE READING
The Honolulu Murder Files
Mystery / Thriller-MYSTERY- I'm dead. Deceased. Definitely not breathing. Laying in my favorite striped bikini, the one that fit the absolute best, and showed off my gym body. But none of that matters now. Not when you're dead. I feel nothing too. Void of any kind...
