Page 18 of When 're Silent

“Damn!” Finn grunted, pain joltingup his leg. He stumbled back, knocking into a shelf lined with delicateartifacts that clattered ominously but held their ground.

“I won’t be handled by the likes ofyou,” the Professor shouted.

Amelia’s laughter broke through thetension like a crack of lightning, sharp and unexpected. She quickly coveredher mouth with her hand, but her eyes danced with irrepressible mirth. “Youokay there, tough guy?” she teased, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Fine,” Finn gritted out, thoughhis foot pulsed with every heartbeat. The absurdity of being taken down byancient literature wasn’t lost on him, and despite the throbbing in his toe, areluctant smile tugged at his lips.

“We weren’t going to force you,Professor,” Amelia said, reassuringly.

The door to the office burst openand one uniformed security guard and a man wearing a tweed suit rushed in,their faces painted with concern. “Everything alright, Professor?” the suitedman asked, scanning the room, his hand resting on the baton at his belt.

“Fine, fine, Hastings,” Hemingwayassured them, waving a dismissive hand. “This is my assistant, and I’m surehe’d be glad to show you out.”

“What is the meaning of all this?”Hastings said. “The Professor is not a well man.”

“Hastings!” Hemingway snapped. “I’msure they do not need to know of my medical woes.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Hastings replied.

“Besides,” Hemingway said with animpish grin. “It was just a little accident.”

“Accident? The old man is deadlywith a book,” Finn said, straightening up and giving the guards a nod ofappreciation. “I wouldn’t like to be stuck in a library with him.”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” theprofessor said.

“I could have you charged withassaulting an officer of the law,” Finn said, still hobbling.

“As I understand it,” the professorsaid, smiling. “You’re not an officer of the law, at least not in these lands.Besides, it was an accident.”

“If you’ve quite finished...”Hasting said. “I’ll show you out.”

Amelia stepped forward and handedthe professor a card. “If there’s anything else you think of, please contactus.”

The professor nodded.

But as they were about to leave,Finn turned and asked: “When you’ve been asked to consult on a project, are youever asked to look over props like old knives, that sort of thing?”

The old man’s face went pale.“Please, I have work to do.”

Finn nodded knowingly, and theyleft.

As they exited the clutteredoffice, Finn couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing a vital piece ofthe puzzle. Hemingway’s call to campus security, his sudden movement—it was alltoo rash, too ill-tempered for what should have been a simple conversation.

“Please forgive the Professor,”Hasting said, walking alongside them.

“When you say he isn’t well...”Amelia started.

“A bad heart,” Hasting said,mournfully. “We don’t know how long he has. Could be two years, could be twomonths. I’ve been brought in to assist him as long as he wants as hisarchivist, but he has been a bit erratic lately...”

“Okay,” Finn said, shakingHastings’ hand. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, my man. See you.”

They walked over the threshold andback into the cold air.

“I don’t like this,” Finn said toAmelia once they were out of earshot. “Something doesn’t add up here withHemingway. If he’s sick, could he be settling scores before he goes?”

Amelia nodded, her face set in adetermined line. “Agreed. Let’s see what Mrs. Penrose has to say about ourprofessor’s alibi.”

Finn leaned against the cool metalof their unmarked car, his gaze lingering on the stone facade of OldbridgeUniversity’s oldest building, where the shadows played tricks on the eyes andevery corner seemed to whisper secrets. The campus was quiet now, the usualhustle of academic life having ebbed away into the encroaching dusk. He rubbedat his chin, feeling the stubble that bristled there, as he dissected theirencounter with Hemingway.

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