One of Us Is Dead

19 Tuesday 27 September 2022

The reek of whisky hit Paul’s nostrils the moment the door opened. Professor Llewellyn smelled like he had been marinated in the stuff. His sallow face, wiry hair, big lopsided glasses, untucked T-shirt, shabby chinos, and moccasins made him look like Woody Allen’s younger, taller, scruffier brother.

Behind him on the floor was a pool of liquid, shards of broken glass and the neck of a bottle with part of the label visible. JOHNNIE WALK

Glaring at the supposed tech support, the academic demanded, his voice a little slurred, ‘Had a little accident, the cleaners can sort it out. How long are you going to be?’

Holding up his voltage meter, Paul replied, disguising his voice with a mock Australian accent, ‘Depends on the problem, mate, might be a quick fix, but could be rodents chewing the cables — we’ve had this in other offices here. Then I’d have to rewire — could be a couple of hours, mate.’

‘Vermin? In a new building?’

Well, there is in your office, Paul Anthony thought, as Llewellyn slunk off, with a clumsily stuffed, battered leather briefcase, muttering, ‘I’m off home, fill your boots.’

Anthony closed the door behind him, snapped on a pair of thin latex gloves, then took a good look around. The office was large, with one wall painted yellow, the rest white, and clutter everywhere. The furniture was mostly bland and functional, with the exception of an oversized sofa that seemed far too big for the room. Horizontal Venetian blinds were closed, which was odd as it was still full daylight outside. There was a faded Persian rug covering part of the floor. He also noticed an open can of Diet Coke on the desk, and that made him smile. There was no sign of a glass anywhere in the room. So the professor drank straight from the can? Or the bottle, he smirked, judgingly. Good. That was very helpful. Very helpful indeed. Quite obliging of him, in fact.

He opened each of the six drawers in the desk but saw nothing of interest, other than the expected liquor flask, which he checked. It was full. Curious, he thought, and wondered how badly addicted he was. Then he checked out the bin beside the desk. You could often learn quite a bit from what people threw away.

The bin contained seven discarded cans of Diet Coke. Shannon hadn’t been exaggerating. He assumed in a place like this the bin would be emptied nightly, so this would likely be his daily consumption. Looking around he couldn’t see a coffee machine or a kettle.

He saw a whiteboard on a metal easel next to a wall almost entirely lined with bookshelves, each shelf containing rows of books looking as dishevelled as the professor himself. He glanced at a few titles. The Anthropic Cosmological Principle; AI: Its Nature and Future; Cognitive Behavioural Therapy; The AI Compass.

Then he heard a sound outside. A distinct clump. He knelt, hurriedly, pulled his toolbox out of his rucksack, placed it on the floor and opened it, ready to look busy if anyone entered. But moments later there was the whine of a vacuum cleaner. It was accompanied by another clump... clump... clump... moving away.

He breathed out and continued looking around. So where did Professor Llewellyn keep his hoard of Diet Coke?

A phone warbled right behind him, making him start. It warbled again. He turned and saw a red light flashing on an elaborate-looking phone-intercom on the desk. Three more warbles and it stopped.

Then he saw what might be the fridge, or at least a concealed cupboard. It was cleverly camouflaged with a covering of fake books, seemingly to make it blend in with the shelves, and the only giveaway was that the fake rows were much neater than the real books. He strode over, got a purchase on the metal edge at the bottom, pulled the door open and felt the blast of cold air.

It was indeed a fridge. Why conceal it? For cosmetic reasons? But this wasn’t exactly a room in the Ritz or the Four Seasons. It was just a functional office in a functional building. And the professor didn’t exactly seem like an aesthete. He had more likely concealed it in order to hide something. What?

He looked at the three rows of shelves and counted eleven cans of Diet Coke on the middle shelf. He looked at the rest of the contents of the fridge. There were a few bars of Waitrose-branded dark chocolate, a tub of Greek yoghurt and a small carton of red grapes. Two of the slim shelves in the door were empty.

None of these items needed hiding, so what was he missing? He opened the freezer compartment at the top of the fridge, and was surprised it was no colder than the rest of the fridge. Inside were two racks of ice trays.

He removed the top one, and had his answer.

Exactly as Shannon had described them, he pulled out a pair of pink knickers in a plastic bag. What. A. Creep.

Paul Anthony was glad he had found the fridge and its evil contents. He liked to be able to have justification for what he did. And now with Professor Llewellyn, he had it in spades.

He was so happy about this he almost wished the professor would return to his office, so he could shake his hand and thank him in person, for making it so easy to plan his demise.