THE EVENING NEWS CARRIED ALL THE DETAILS. SHE DIED IN EVERY LIVING ROOM IN TOWN. They reported, "Body found at Shilshole Bay Marina. Possibly missing student. Suspect sought."

Professor Robert Dungston reached down to the coffee table in front of him. He had his bare feet comfortably propped up on an ottoman. He snatched the remote control unit and flipped the channel on his big screen television set. He did not care to hear any more bad news on his doorstep.

He could not escape the story he had heard on the other channel, because a young boy, who could not have been more than twelve years old, was describing for a news reporter holding a microphone in his face, what he and his young friend had discovered.

As Professor Dungston listened to what the youngster said there seemed to be something familiar about him. Although the Professor did not know either boy. Perhaps it was the boy's enthusiasm for the camera that caught his attention.

The boy was almost boasting when he said, "Me and Tyler was playing catch on the beach." He wiped the sand off his hands onto the white stripes that ran down the sides of his blue swimsuit. He was not wearing anything else.

The Professor hoped the boy was not talking about Gail Stevenson. A student in his Marine Biology class. And, a good one, with a perceived intellectual knowledge of the subject material.

Gail Stevenson was also the missing student Professor Dungston had been grilled by the Seattle Police Department investigators about since his expedition had returned from studying sea horses around Gulliver's Inlet.

"Any way, Tyler threw me the football over here," the boy began his story.

"Except I throwed it way over Timmy's head!" The boy named Tyler enthusiastically cut in, saying, "And, when he reached up there in the grass," he added, pointing to the place where the sand and the grass met, near a paved walkway, "that's when Timmy saw her foot."

The reporter, wrapped up in the exclusive he was being given by the two boys, asked him, "Can you show us where she was at?"

"Yea," Tyler replied, saying, "no problem. She was right over there." He pointed to a nearby picnic table.

"She was next to the black barbeque grill," Timmy chimed in.

"Wonder if someone was going to fricassee her for dinner?" Tyler jokingly teased.

"Gross!" Timmy exclaimed, "No way was I gonna touch her!"

Professor Dungston heard the reporter saying, "That's the latest we have on the scene here, Bob. A grisly discovery indeed. Now, back to you at the desk at our station in Downtown Seattle. This has been George Martin, WWKK, Channel 2 News, coming to you live from Golden Gardens."

Professor Dungston filled his favorite brandy snifter all the way to the top. He asked himself, "What is this crazy world of ours coming to now?" Then he settled back into his recliner.

He recalled, how, according to her ditzy roommate Victoria Davenport, that Gail Stevenson had not been seen in the three weeks since her mysterious disappearance, after his latest expedition had returned.

In addition to being a promising member of Professor Dungston's latest expedition to Gulliver's Inlet, she was an enthusiastic team leader, who performed well on the field trip. She led other students in conducting a variety of experiments testing the sea water for desalination, and microorganisms found around Shilshole Bay.

Attending students also took measurements, and notes, on the sea horses they captured. From these experiments they gained valuable real world knowledge. That was what Professor Dungston's popular expeditions were designed for.

A fine figured twenty-year-old, Gail Stevenson seemed to follow every little movement the Professor made. She always focused intently on each word he lectured as well.

It wasn't hard to tell she had unbridled interest in Professor Dungston. And, he appreciated how her flowing red hair highlighted her smooth features. Sea horses appeared to be the catalyst she believed would bring them together.

Upon arriving back from the excursion, a distraught Gail Stevenson approached the Professor before he could leave the boat. Her sad, puppy dog eyes displayed her turmoil. Signals the Professor easily honed in on.

"Something troubling you, Miss Stevenson?" he nonchalantly inquired, knowing he should be heading home, but sensing one of his students had something pressing on their mind that needed to be addressed.

Gail Stevenson did not hide her thoughts, "That "B" you gave me Robert is inappropriate," she blurted out, stating, "I deserved an "A" on that paper. My work met all the requirements of the syllabus you provided us."

"First off, to my students I am not Robert," the Professor corrected the manner in which she phrased her statement, "I am Professor Dungston."

Gail Stevenson looked stung, as though a bee had found its way into her bonnet.

"However, if you care to further discuss this matter I will make time available after our next class session," he told her, saying, "that is my well known mode of operation."

Gail Stevenson grabbed her lab bag in a huff. The Professor's response was not the one she anticipated. She was not pleased. She stomped up the ramp leading away from the boat, announcing, "I can not have a "B" Professor. That is wrong!"

"I said, Miss Stevenson, we can further discuss this matter after our next class session on Monday afternoon," Professor Dungston repeated, then instructed her to "read my notations written in red on the paper. And, be prepared to show me cause for an upgrade."

"Thanks for nothing, Professor!" was all Gail Stevenson fumed, storming off.

Gail Stevenson did not take rejection well. The valedictorian of her high school class, and voted Most Likely To Succeed, she was used to getting her way. Angry because of Professor Dungston's response, she immediately began contemplating.

The walk to her dorm room was a leisurely stroll from the dock, leading past the secluded Golden Gardens. The air felt pleasant, and Gail Stevenson decided the stroll might do her some good. At least, it would give her time to ponder while enjoying the view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains.

Professor Dungston remembered he had promised Jonathan a new DVD he had been pleading for. One of those killer zombies, or was it a Freddie Kruger gory creature feature thing kids like his son were currently into? He could not keep them straight.

Bidding a fond farewell to three other students, who had not departed the boat yet, Professor Dungston climbed into his soft top Corvette, and headed off to find Jonathan what he desired.

These would be the three who's inadvertent comments to Seattle's finest would implicate Professor Dungston in Gail Stevenson's mysterious disappearance.

With night time descending over Seattle, Golden Gardens was a peaceful, and serene, quiet spot many locals enjoyed. Gail Stevenson had been there several times before in her three years at the university.

She meandered aimlessly down the boardwalk towards the beach. It was then she noticed headlights from an approaching car. The vehicle looked familiar. Her initial notion was it belonged to Professor Dungston.

Gail Stevenson neared a picnic table. No one else was observed on the beach. Out of a shadow she felt herself being grabbed. She saw a shiny steel blade. Gail Stevenson's grade no longer mattered.

Timmy and Tyler found her naked body. Thirty-three stab wounds punctured her torso. Her throat was slit from ear to ear. Tests would later reveal she had also been sexually assaulted.

Professor Dungston drove down Mariners Landing to Walton's Videos. He made his purchase then headed home.

Jonathan would be a very happy boy.

To Professor Dungston the evening news report was not welcoming.



@Copyrighted October 31, 2015 by Brett Matthew West
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