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“Ah, Professor Karlsson?” One of his older students popped up from a seat in the front row. Had he heard the embarrassing exchange between him and Jessica?
“Mr. Webb, right?”
“Dermott Webb.” The student’s gaze traveled between him and Jessica, still on the stage. “Can I ask you a quick question about the assignment?”
“Of course.” Finn tried to plaster a pleasant smile on his face.
“If we do some additional reading on the subject, can we use that material for our response instead of the textbook?” Webb held up his hand as if expecting him to deny the request. “I’d cite the reference material, of course.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine if it sticks with the topic.” Now he knew why he remembered this particular student. Finn always had one or two know-it-alls in a class, trying to impress or brownnose. Dermott Webb would probably make a good, by-the-book cop. The kind that would have the brass salivating.
“Thank you, Professor Karlsson. I’d like to talk with you further about this book—” his gaze darted toward Jessica again, now crossing her arms and tapping the toe of her boot “—I-I mean, during your office hours.”
“Looking forward to hearing about it, Mr. Webb.” Finn shifted slightly, showing Webb his shoulder in a broad hint.
“I’ll see you in your office, then.” Webb lifted his hand and loped from the lecture hall, excitement quickening his steps.
Raising her eyebrows, Jessica said, “Don’t like him much, do you?”
“You can see my expression from the stage? The lights aren’t even all the way up.”
“No, I couldn’t make out your face, but I know that tone of voice. You used it with me, once…”
“Once I found out you were manipulating me?” He rolled his shoulders. He shouldn’t let her get under his skin. Thatway lay danger. “Don’t you have some evidence to turn over to the sheriff’s department?”
“Who said I’m not giving it to law enforcement? Hell, Iamlaw enforcement.” She bypassed the steps and jumped off the edge of the stage, landing in front of him, her hiking boots echoing in the empty hall. “But I’m willing to show it to you first…if you’re interested.”
He sucked in a quick breath. “Why the offer?”
“Because I have something to prove to you.” She hooked a thumb in the belt loop of her slouchy jeans. “Buy you a drink?”
“It’s the least you owe me, and I admit I’m curious.” He patted the side of his bag. “Let me drop this at my office first, and I’ll meet you at the Porch. I should be safe from my students there, even at this hour.”
“Even the eager Mr. Webb?” She flicked her fingers in the air. “I know where the Porch is. I’ll head over there now, Professor.”
She made a beeline for the side door of the lecture hall, her blond ponytail swinging behind her, looking every bit the college student.
Finn exited through the back door, crossed the north campus quad and breathed a sigh of relief when he rounded the corner to an empty hallway. He didn’t have office hours right now, but that didn’t stop desperate students from dropping by to find out how they could turn in a late assignment or pick up some extra credit for a poor test score.
He unlocked his door and swung his bag onto the visitor chair opposite his desk. Then he locked up and strode across campus to exit on the north side, onto the bustling tree-lined street that boasted rows of bars and cheap eats, catering to the student crowd.
Finn veered off the street where it dead-ended at the path along the river and made his way to the more refined area of town that satisfied the palates and sensibilities of the parents who dropped their kids off—not expecting them to get murdered.
By the time he pushed through the front door of the Porch, Jessica had secured a table by the window. She wiggled her fingers in the air to draw his attention—as if he could ever miss Jessica Eller. As he approached the table, he pointed at the bar, and she shook her head.
He pulled out a chair and joined her. “Did you order already?”
“There’s a waitress circulating. I told her to come back when my date got here.”
He raised one eyebrow at her. “This isn’t a date.”
“Nobody has to know our business.” She waved at the circulating waitress, and the woman, thank God not one of his students, ambled to their table.
The waitress tapped one elaborately painted nail on the Formica. “Did you see the happy hour menu?”
Finn picked up the plastic card and ran a finger down the list of beers. “I’ll have the local IPA.”
Jessica answered. “House white for me and some water, please.”