Free Always Love a Villain on San Juan Island by Sandy Frances Duncan, George Szanto

him; he wasn’t that big a guy, and his ski mask would take away his peripheral vision. But she realized he was in ultra-good shape, and quick on his feet. Strong arms, visible when he wore T-shirts. Good-looking body, in fact. She wondered about his face. Not much to tell about his hair till yesterday—before, he’d always worn a baseball cap with the short mask, but last evening he’d left it off. Light brown hair, a bit curly. Maybe a pleasant guy? And she wouldn’t really want to hurt anyone. Even a kidnapper. Most of the time.

    Before Mr. Beck arrived, Noel left to find a washroom. Returning to Peter’s office, he saw two men, their backs to him—Peter, and a fellow with a head of bushy red hair in a blue T-shirt, denim cutoffs held up doubly by green suspenders and a red belt, and sandals over bare feet. Noel said, “Hello.”
    Both turned. Peter said, “Jordan Beck, Noel Franklin.” Greetings, a shake of hands. “Why don’t you fellas go to the cafeteria? Nobody there at this hour, you can talk privately. Sorry I can’t lend you my office but I’ve got some work to do.”
    â€œCafeteria okay with you?” Noel asked.
    â€œLet’s go. Thanks, Professor Langley.” They walked down the stairs in silence, and out the door. “So, Mr. Franklin, you an old friend of Langley’s?”
    â€œNot that old,” said Noel. “He a pretty good teacher?”
    â€œOh yeah, he’s the best. He gets you to really open up when you write.”
    Maybe Noel should take lessons from Peter. If he ever got back to his book. Writing wasn’t on for Noel right now. “You’ve just finished your thesis, I understand.”
    â€œYeah, it’s a novella. Don’t know why I took that on. Nobody publishes novellas these days.”
    â€œIt’s good practice. And publishing is changing so quickly these days, you might find a publisher online.” They were walking toward the Faculty Club-cum-cafeteria that Noel recognized from yesterday. “You happy with it?”
    â€œYeah, I am. It was damn hard work but I think it’s pretty good.”
    â€œThat’s important.”
    â€œNot as important as what Professor Langley thinks. I just wish I could get him to read it and talk to me about it.”
    Noel glanced sideways at Beck. A solidly built man, late twenties, strong shoulders under the T-shirt that said MORSELY HOWLER MONKEYS over an image of a monkey sitting on a large football helmet wearing a small football helmet. A joke, Noel figured. Morsely had no on-campus students so would’ve had to scramble to come up with even a tag football team for the day. Beck’s red hair curled over his brow, around his ears and along his nape. His brown eyes were two sharp exclamation marks on his ruddy face. A good grin leading to clean-shaven cheeks. Himself as a possible model for Jimmy Piper in the novella? “He hasn’t read it? Why not?”
    â€œSays he’s got a pile of stuff to get to. And because I didn’t hand it in by the end of last term, I can’t get my degree anyway till October. So, he says, ‘What’s the rush?’”
    â€œYou sound a little pissed. A great teacher, just not a great grader?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    They reached the building and went in a different door from the one to the Faculty Club, entering a room way less luxurious than its companions. Three dozen or so tables, only one person seated, computer open before her. “Coffee okay? There won’t be any food till 11:30.”
    â€œFine.” Noel still looked forward to a bacon-and-eggs breakfast. By himself.
    Beck led him to a large commercial coffee machine, took mugs off a shelf, filled them. “Cream and sugar?”
    â€œBlack’s fine.” Noel took his mug and led the way to a corner as far from the computer person as the room allowed. “This