Page 30 of M for Murder

‘Come on, Bobby, this is silly. Why don’t you cut me down and we can talk about this rationally.’

‘Rationally?’ Bobby nodded slowly, taking a drag on his cigarette as he appeared to mull the idea over. ‘You want to talk about this rationally, do you, Professor?’

He got up from the desk, and Myron felt his heartbeat quicken as he watched the boy take a couple of deliberate steps towards him, his dark eyes never faltering from his face. Was he going to let him down?

Bobby stopped directly in front of him and sighed deeply. Rings of pale grey smoke billowed from his nostrils.

Myron forced a smile for him. ‘We’re all adults here,’ he said in a joking voice, aware that his tone had a false ring to it. There’s nothing that can’t be resolved by talking.’

‘Oh, we can talk, Professor, if that’s what you want,’ Bobby agreed, scratching the side of his head. ‘But, you’re staying exactly where you are.’ Cigarette hanging between his lips, he slowly started to circle the desk, like a shark closing in on its prey.

Myron swallowed hard, feeling the rope cut into his throat as his mind worked overtime searching for a solution to his situation. Right now, he was trapped and at Bobby Kusack’s mercy. Even if he were somehow able to untie his hands and remove the noose from his neck, he still had to get away from Bobby and his two buddies, who were standing guard outside the classroom door. He had spent enough Thursday evenings working alone, marking test papers, to know that nobody was going to come to his rescue. All the other professors in the English Department had long gone home, and security rarely ventured over to the building when they knew he was still here.

He watched Bobby carefully, trying to work out what his intentions were. Each time the boy disappeared behind him, a grip of fear knotted in his chest, as he imagined the chair on which he stood suddenly being wrenched from beneath him. He tried hard to keep his feet still, knowing that even if Bobby didn’t pull the chair, it was still balanced precariously on the desktop and needed only the slightest movement to send it tumbling.

Staring down at the floor, Myron realised the drop was more than four feet. Probably enough to break his neck. The thought made him start to panic.

‘Come on, Bobby, please let me down,’ he begged, as the boy wandered back into his sight. He could feel his fear beading in sweat on his forehead, and he fought hard to bite back the feeling of nausea that was rising in his throat. For a moment the two of them stood staring at each other.

Bobby’s black eyes were scowling, and Myron could see the hatred behind them. He watched as the boy dropped his cigarette end to the floor, stamped it out and took a step forward. The room was deadly silent, and he felt his legs begin to shake.

Oh God, no! Oh God, no!

Beneath him the rickety chair creaked and scraped against the surface of the desk.

Bobby smiled coldly. ‘Careful, Professor. You wouldn’t want to fall.’

‘Don’t do this, Bobby. Please!’

The classroom door suddenly jerked open, cutting through the tension, and Doug Colney poked his head into the room. He avoided Myron’s eyes, instead focusing on Bobby.

‘Hey, Kusack, come here a minute.’

Bobby turned and glared at Doug. ‘I’m busy,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Get back outside.’

Doug stood his ground. ‘I really think you should come out here for a minute.’

Bobby looked uncertainly at the classroom door, and then back at Myron.

‘I’ll be right back, Professor. Don’t go anywhere,’ he quipped, giving a deep-throated laugh.

Myron watched him cross the room with long, purposeful strides, grabbing hold of Doug Colney by his shirt collar when he reached him.

‘This had better be good, Dougie boy,’ he threatened, pushing him into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind them.

Myron could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He glanced around the empty classroom, his relief at being left alone mingled with fear in case the chair and table suddenly collapsed. This was his chance. His one chance of escape. While logic told him that Bobby Kusack planned to do no more than frighten him, something he had already succeeded in doing, the irrational part of his mind kept reminding him that he barely knew the boy and what he did know about him was that he had a bad reputation. What if he really was crazy enough to kill him?

Frantically, Myron strained against the rope binding his wrists. The only way he could be guaranteed safety was to escape and he knew that he had precious little time left in which to do it. Slowly he twisted his head, feeling the bite of the noose around his neck as he tried to glance over his shoulder to see how his wrists were tied. Beneath him, the chair wobbled dangerously, and he froze for a long second, terrified it would give way completely.

He could hear hushed voices out in the hallway, and he wondered what the three boys were talking about. Did they have other plans for him? Perhaps they intended to leave him stuck there. Panic seared through his veins as he realised that by leaving him, they would be condemning him to death. It was useless to believe that he could get out of the noose by himself, and he would never be able to remain standing like this until the morning.

‘Bobby?’ His voice echoed across the classroom towards the closed door. ‘Bobby! Please get me down from here.’

Glancing down at his feet, he noticed that the two front legs of the chair were perilously close to tumbling off the edge of the desktop.

Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m going to fall.

A second, stronger wave of nausea hit Myron, causing his head to spin. Black dots appeared before his eyes and he felt his legs quake beneath him, threatening to collapse with weakness.