One of Us Is Dead

32 Monday 3 October 2022

‘My weekend? It was pretty shit actually, Alex, but thank you for asking,’ Bill Llewellyn said as he locked up his bike. ‘One of the worst weekends I’ve ever had, if you really want to know. But so kind of you to ask.’

The professor left an astonished Alex Petrovic, the youthful-looking head of the university’s Digital Marketing team, busy padlocking his own bike, and strode angrily on towards the entrance to the Cockcroft Building, the events of the weekend preying on his mind. Out of the blue, his wife of twenty-seven years had told him she was thinking of leaving him because she suspected he was having an affair with one of his staff colleagues. It was untrue, of course, but he was now worried she might also know something about Shannon Kendall.

8.15 a.m. The first day of the autumn semester. Once, he’d have expected to see a throng of eager-beaver students pouring in through the door. But not any more, not these days. Most of the lazy bastards wouldn’t be rocking up for at least another hour. There was just a handful outside the door, a few of them smoking or vaping. He pressed his card and the door slid open. He entered and made his way towards the lifts.

The shattering news from his wife made him realize he needed to sort out his shit. Particularly when he thought back to Shannon Kendall and the little trophy that he kept in his office fridge. It would not be good if that was found. He shoved it into a plastic bag and dumped it quickly into a communal bin in the corridor.

He sat down, back in his office, increasingly flustered and panicking. His mouth was dry. Parched. He needed a caffeine hit to think clearly.

He went to the fridge, opened the door, and took out the first can of Diet Coke he saw.

Then he dug the tip of his forefinger under the ring-pull.