Page 59 of M for Murder

Joel watched carefully, half expecting to see the entire room erupt in panic. Instead, there were just further murmurs. He guessed that most of the students already had a pretty good idea about what was going on.

As Max was about to continue speaking, a tall skinny guy with lank hair stood up and poked a finger at him.

‘You’re bullshitting! This is all just a joke, right? Just some sick joke.’

Max shook his head. ‘I’m not joking, buddy. Believe me, I wish I was.’

‘Bullshit!’ The student repeated, looked disbelieving.

Dean Edwards, who was sitting beside Joel, stood up and fixed the student with angry eyes.

‘Sit down please, Mr Ottinger, and let Special Agent Sutton continue,’ he said in a tone that managed to be polite, calm and authoritative all at the same time.

Ottinger looked a little uncertainly at the Dean for a moment then, with a glare in Max’s direction, he sank back into the crowd. Max cleared his throat again and continued.

‘The reason you’ve all been called here today is not to scare you, but hopefully to prevent anyone else from being killed. If our man continues to follow his pattern, his next intended victim will be female so, ladies, we need you to be extra vigilant. That doesn’t mean that you gentlemen can rest easy. He might not necessarily stick to the pattern. We’ve already doubled campus security, and there will also be police officers patrolling the grounds both day and night, so someone will be on hand should any of you find yourselves in trouble.

‘I’m sure that some of you will want to perhaps go home for a while until this is all over, and that’s fine. However, for those of you who stay, we’ve decided to impose a curfew. We don’t want anyone out alone after eight o’clock. Stay in your dorms and stay in groups. This guy won’t attack you unless you’re alone. Play safe for the next couple of weeks and hopefully we’ll have him caught by then.’

Joel studied the faces in the crowd. Some looked frightened, some looked annoyed, others looked amused. Evidently they, like Ottinger, found the whole thing a joke. He wished it was a joke. It wasn’t, though, and if they didn’t find Rodney Boone’s successor soon, one of the students in this room was likely to lose their life.

The call was made from a payphone booth on the east side of town, just after midday. It took some time for him to be connected and while he waited, watching the busy street around him, he whistled a tune, ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ by Tchaikovsky.

He smiled, realising how inappropriate it was, and stopped. Eventually he heard the phone click and the now familiar voice answer.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me,’ he said, identifying himself. That had been the deal from the start. No names, at least not on the phone. You could never be too sure who might be listening in, even on a public phone. ‘I have some news for you.’

‘You do?’ The voice sounded hopeful. ‘Good news?’

‘I think so.’

‘Do tell.’

He thought of Kylan Parker.

‘I was right. She is the one.’

‘You’re sure about that?’

‘I’ve checked her out very carefully. It’s definitely her.’

‘Good.’ There was a pause. ‘She has to be a victim. I know her initial doesn’t fit into the pattern, but then I guess she is an exceptional case, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she is,’ he said, nodding his agreement down the phone, even though he knew he couldn’t be seen.

‘Make sure you keep an eye on her. We can’t afford to let her slip through our fingers.’

He let out a small laugh.

‘Don’t worry about that. I’m watching her very carefully.’

‘Good. Don’t forget that we have to find one more victim first.’

‘I haven’t. That’s what I’m working on now.’

‘Do you know who it’s going to be?’ the voice questioned.