The Professor's Predicament

by Dianne Harman

  "Yes, I'm starving. I want to shower first, but I'll be down in a few minutes."

  Kat went down the stairs where their dogs were waiting for one of their masters to open the wire kennels they were kept in at night. She greeted her snow-white West Highland Terrier, Jazz, and Jazz's much bigger brother, Rudy, a jet-black Rottweiler that Blaine had bought for Kat's protection early in their courtship. The two dogs, so different in size and shape, were beside themselves with joy at seeing Kat. Each of them nuzzled her with their noses and wagged their hindquarters as part of their morning greeting.

  When I come back, I want to come back as a dog. I have never figured out how getting up each morning and eating the same thing day after day, playing with the same toys, and running around the same yard every day can produce that much joy. Obviously, there's something to be said for the simple things in life.

  "Good morning, my favorite four-legged friends," she said smiling as she patted each of them on the head and opened the door to the back yard, so they could take care of their morning business.

  Once Jazz and Rudy were back inside happily eating the morning kibbles she'd doled out into their doggy dishes, Kat began to prepare breakfast for Blaine and her. While the bacon was frying in the skillet, and the eggs were cracked and in a small ramekin ready to go into the skillet when the bacon was finished, Kat reached into the fridge and pulled out fresh orange juice, butter, and strawberry jam. She placed bread in the toaster and set the other items on the table in the breakfast nook and then walked over to a cabinet to pull out plates and glasses.

  Just then Blaine walked in and said, "Wow, it smells good in here. What can I do to help?"

  Kat handed him the plates. "You can take these while I finish cooking the bacon and start the eggs."

  As Blaine set the plates on the table and pulled out forks from a drawer, Kat turned to him and said, "Blaine, I have to admit that ever since that young girl, Krysta Lawrence, was murdered on her way to the university library, I can't stop worrying about Lacie." She was referring to her daughter who went to the same local university and lived on campus.

  "I believe I told you that Lacie was in a class with Krysta, and it's just too close for comfort. I'm glad Cameron Baker was caught and, thanks to you, he was convicted, but it really frightens me to think there may be other sick people who are lurking around that campus. I shudder just thinking about it."

  Blaine walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Lacie is a special young woman, and she has a good head on her shoulders. She's street-smart enough to sense when something may not be right. And given the fact that she lives in that beautiful sorority house with its top-of-the-line security system, I think she's pretty well protected."

  "I suppose you're right, and I guess that alone makes it worth the monthly price tag I have to pay for room and board," Kat said, as she took the skillet off of the stove, walked over to the table, and slid the eggs onto their plates. She turned and reached for the toast which had just popped up. "I really feel for Krysta's mother. What an awful thing to happen to a young woman just when her whole life is ahead of her. At least Krysta's mother has the satisfaction of knowing that justice was served, and she has you to thank for it."

  "She'll also be thanking the judge after Cameron Baker's sentencing hearing is held in a couple of weeks. Given the violent and sexual nature of his crime against Krysta, Cameron is looking at spending the rest of his life behind bars without parole," Blaine said, settling into his chair and pouring a glass of orange juice. "Let's get off this subject. What's on your agenda while I'm at the office today, an afternoon of hot and heavy romance by any chance?"

  He winked at her, and she laughed, playfully swatting his arm. As a successful author of steamy romance novels written under her pen name, Sexy Cissy, Kat had begun a new series called the Bawdy Halls of Ivy.

  "Yes, that's exactly what I have in mind for the day," she said. "I was just getting started on the new series when the judge was murdered. I'm glad things have settled down enough for me to get back to writing. It's been a little too long since my last book was published, and I suppose my readers are getting antsy. I just hope they like the new series I'm creating."

  Blaine took a bite of his toast. "I'm sure they'll be thrilled with anything you write. For a woman who's worried about her daughter being on a college campus, it's kind of ironic that your new series will be about steamy coed romances," he teased.

  "My loyal readers are all adults, and so are those young women in college," she responded. "And you know my writing is always tasteful and free of bad language. The romances are all in good fun."

  "If you say so, although as I recall, when we first met and your editor was murdered, that wasn't quite the case. A few people weren't too happy with the subject matter of your books. Anyway, I'm glad you can get back to doing what you love. You deserve to be writing your books and not out interviewing possible murder suspects on my behalf, although as I said earlier in slightly different language, you do have my undying gratitude for doing just that after Judge Dickerson was murdered."

  Kat pierced her egg with a fork. A pool of runny yolk seeped over the bacon, just the way she liked it. "Glad I was able to help, but I wasn't the only one. Don't forget that your brother Nick's private investigation firm was an invaluable resource, as usual. His top investigator, Dave Bradley, was a lifesaver while Nick and his family were on vacation in Machu Picchu. I really don't know what I would have done without him."

  "Nick has always had the ability to pick and retain quality staff members," Blaine said. "I'm sure that's why his firm has been so successful, and I'm glad Dave was such a big help to you. Speaking of staff members, I better get to the office and prepare for my meeting with Ryan. It sounds like we can both enjoy a rather calm and leisurely work day for once."

  "Yes, and I'm relieved," said Kat. "We certainly deserve a break after all the drama of Judge Dickerson's murder."

  They both stood up, and Kat stepped over to where Blaine was standing, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a warm, tender hug and a kiss.

  "Have a good day, Mr. District Attorney," she said, as he leaned down to kiss her softly.

  "You too, Miss Sexy Cissy. Don't get into too much trouble without me."

  Kat walked with Blaine to the door leading to the garage and waved to him as he pulled onto the street and drove away, before returning to finish her breakfast.

  CHAPTER 3

  Professor Geoffrey White sauntered across the lawn and up the steps to the double doors that led into the university building that housed the English Department's offices, lecture halls, and classrooms. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass--a few years shy of fifty years old, his hair had begun to gray around his temples and the skin around his eyes had deeper wrinkles when he smiled, but he was still quite an attractive man.

  He never missed his daily workouts, took good care of himself, and was slim and fit. He liked to dress casually, usually in jeans and a blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and he carried himself in the manner of a much younger man. Few people would believe he was nearing the half-century mark.

  In fact, he found it hard to believe himself. Almost fifty years, and where had it gone? Most of it had been spent in the world of academia, first as a student, then as a teacher's assistant when he was working on his master's degree, next came the time he was earning his doctorate, and, now as an English professor for the last twenty years.

  Every time he climbed up the steps it reminded him of when he'd met his wife, Deborah. Little did he know when he climbed up those steps nearly twenty-eight years ago for his first day of class in an Introduction to English class that he'd meet his wife-to-be. He'd been enchanted with her from the moment he'd seen her. She was different from the other college freshmen coeds, very sure of herself and with an air of sophistication unusual for Lindsay, but one that wouldn't have been out of place in Paris.

  Geoffrey had taken the sea
t next to her and after class he'd asked her if she'd join him for a cup of coffee. From that time on they saw only one another. Or rather, she saw only him. Geoffrey told her she was his one and only, but he'd always felt what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Many, many years later, he would realize how very wrong he'd been.

  He and Deborah had enjoyed a calm, stable marriage for almost twenty years, but the initial romantic spark had died out a long time ago. He remembered how thrilled they'd been to be offered teaching posts at the university in Lindsay. They'd celebrated with champagne and a lazy afternoon of love-making, something that was now a distant memory.

  Over the years, they settled into a fixed routine that focused more and more on their independent careers. Deborah rose up the ranks to become the dean of the Department of Sex Therapy while also maintaining a private practice counseling patients who had various issues and addictions relating to sex. Geoffrey thought it was pretty ironic that his wife's expertise in sexual behavior hadn't really translated into much passion in their marriage.

  Their years in Lindsay and their status as professors gave Geoffrey and Deborah the social clout they both enjoyed, and though their relationship was no longer fresh and exciting, it was comfortable and secure. It certainly wasn't something he wanted to leave behind for good. His semester-long flings with certain selected female students were simply some spice he added to his otherwise routine life. He considered them to be one of the extracurricular benefits of his job.

  Prof. White entered his classroom right on time for his 9:00 a.m. class, Intermediate Creative Writing. Teaching writing classes wasn't his favorite part of being a tenured professor. He much preferred helping graduate students who were working toward their master's degrees or delving into his own latest manuscript that would be published, but the English Department faculty had agreed to share the undergraduate course load evenly among tenured professors. And the one thing that did appeal to Prof. White was that teaching these lower-level classes had a few perks that, in his own special way, he certainly appreciated.

  Prof. White walked to his desk in the front of the room and looked out at the classroom where a group of students had gathered ahead of his arrival. The students, a mix of young men and women, were milling around, greeting their friends, and slowly settling into their desks. The Intermediate Creative Writing class was limited to twenty students, thus insuring that the professor had adequate time to read and critique all of their writing assignments.

  Placement in the class was dependent upon a writing sample that prospective students submitted ahead of official registration. Though Prof. White tried to select the most promising writers for his class, he also pre-screened each of the young women's online profiles and gave preference to the attractive ones. He wanted to be sure he had a good selection of coeds to choose from for one of his special assignments, as he liked to call them.

  When the students realized he'd entered the room and walked to his desk, they became quiet, and looked at him expectantly. He placed his briefcase on his desk at the front of the room and set down his still-steaming travel mug of black coffee.

  "Good morning, all," he said, the deep timbre of his voice reaching every corner of the room without him having to shout. "If you're not at your desk, please take your seat, and we'll get started."

  Looking around at his class, he had to stifle his amusement at how many young women had settled into the front row, gazing at him with wide eyes and eager expressions. Even though the semester was almost over and final exams were quickly approaching, Prof. White remembered fondly the first day of class when his specially selected group of students arrived for their first class.

  As he'd planned, the incoming group of students had offered him a variety of attractive female students to admire and scope out. On that first day, he'd invited the students to go around the room in turn and introduce themselves. He'd listened to the young women's introductions while sizing up their looks, their demeanor, and how they returned his gaze. By the end of that first session, he'd chosen one of them to assist him with some special assignments. He then planned his approach, casually but ever so carefully.

  He waited until the first writing assignment had been turned in, then he invited the young coed to his office to discuss her future dreams and plans for a career in writing. In that meeting, he asked her if she would be interested in working more closely with him. It was a tried and tested plan that had never let him down. One thing always led to another, and he and his student would eventually begin meeting in out-of-the-way places off-campus, generally a motel south of town, places where no one would know them.

  This was a practice he'd started years ago, and in all the semesters he'd offered the invitation, none of the young women had refused his advances. And why would they? His young paramours often gushed that he was youthful and handsome, and their brief liaisons made each semester livelier and more interesting for both of them. Once the semester came to an end, so did the special assignments. Rarely did the temporary, fleeting romances end in any drama. The young women had active lives filled with classes, extracurricular activities, sorority meetings, parties, and plenty of other boyfriends. Their grade for his class improved their average, and everyone was happy.

  Geoffrey wasn't stupid, and he knew that someday one of them could blow up in his face, but so far, his affairs had ended easily. He was particularly thankful that none of his colleagues, especially his wife, Deborah, had ever found out about his flings with his students. Fraternizing with students outside of class time or academic meetings was discouraged at the university, and romantic liaisons with them were strictly forbidden, so Geoffrey did his best to cover his tracks, and so far, he'd been successful.

  Unfortunately, the young woman who had been his special assignment student for the current semester, Courtney Adams, was not taking the inevitable end of their trysts as well as the others had. After their last meeting, Geoffrey had felt something he rarely experienced, unnerved. Courtney had become very irate after she found out she wasn't the first of his students to help him with special assignments. Apparently, girls talked a lot more than Geoffrey realized.

  He tried to assure Courtney that she'd been very special to him, even though their romance had to come to an end. But Courtney wasn't appeased by his assurances. She wanted him to herself. The last time he saw her, she'd seemed almost deranged when she talked about it. She'd even threatened to tell his wife about their illicit rendezvous at the motel just south of town if he didn't continue seeing her.

  The more he thought about Courtney's threats, the more concerned he became. He knew if Deborah ever found out about all of his special assignments, or even one of them, Deborah would probably leave him. Not only would he lose Deborah, he'd lose his job, and no other university would ever hire him. His life, as he knew it, would be over. The mere thought of losing everything he'd worked so hard for made him feel sick to his stomach.

  As the last of the students settled into their desks and opened their laptops to take notes, Geoffrey shook himself out of his reverie and regained his composure. He pulled out a set of papers from his briefcase and began the day's lesson.

  "Let's go over the components for the creative writing piece due next week, and then I'll take questions," he said, turning to the white board behind him. He wrote out his bullet points in bright blue erasable ink, but at the same time he was mulling over his situation with Courtney. He kicked himself for taking these affairs for granted. He certainly had no intention of choosing some young woman who seemed off her rocker over his wife. That was a given.

  Geoffrey knew he had to do something to stop Courtney before she blew up his entire world. Mentally, he examined his options. He knew Courtney studied at the library until 5:30 p.m. every day and then returned home to the apartment she rented in the low-cost student housing located just off the campus. This time there would be a very special assignment for her, one that would ensure his perfect life wouldn't be upended by a coed who refused to accept the fa
ct that he was married and had every intention of staying married.

  She's going to regret threatening me like that, I'll make sure of it, he thought, as he continued to write on the white board.

  CHAPTER 4

  After Blaine had left for work, and Kat had finished cleaning the kitchen, she got dressed and sat down in front of the computer in her office. With all the excitement and stress she'd been through during the past few weeks, it felt good to get back to the latest novel she was writing, the first in her new series, the Bawdy Halls of Ivy, by Sexy Cissy.

  Picking up where she'd left off, Kat looked through the notes she'd made about the storyline and main characters. When she was through reading them, she started writing the first chapter. She was so engrossed in the story that the sudden sound of her ringing telephone nearly made her jump out of her skin. Kat saved the work she'd written and reached across her desk to answer the phone. On the other end of the line was Professor Deborah White.

  "Hi, Kat, I hope I'm not interrupting you. Do you have a moment to chat?"

  Deborah was the head of the Department of Sex Therapy at the university and had given Kat a lot of information and help when she was trying to solve the murder of Judge Dickerson. She specifically had asked Deborah about men who were addicted to computer porn and women who posed for those type of sites.

  "Why hello, Deborah. It's so nice to hear from you. I was just doing some writing for the first book in a new series. Listen, I want to thank you again for helping me understand internet pornography addiction. Your expertise was really invaluable to me."

  "As a matter of fact," said Deborah, "that's what I'm calling about. I wanted to follow up from our last meeting and schedule lunch like we'd discussed."

  "I'd really enjoy that. When would you like to get together?" Kat asked.

  "How about today? I have some free time early this afternoon, and I was thinking we could go to the country club. Would that work for you?"