told she won’t need to remove the gun from the purse, she can just reach in and start shooting. If she’s within ten feet of the target, the bullets will pass through the handbag and into Toth’s body with relative accuracy. Since the gun is small caliber, she should be prepared to take multiple shots.
It’s Wednesday morning.
Maybe locates Toth’s 10:00 a.m. class and monitors it from the back row. Toth is in his forties and dresses as pretentiously as possible, with his tweed jacket, crew neck sweater and designer jeans. He wears his dark brown hair seventies style, and has a short, well-groomed beard. All that’s missing to complete the picture of what a hip professor is supposed to look like is a pipe.
Professor Toth’s class is as boring as most of the classes Maybe attended her freshman and sophomore years. It’s classes like this that made it easy to leave college after her second year. When his lecture finally ends, Maybe’s one of the last students to file out. She lingers fifty feet down the hall, holding her large handbag to her chest. For this occasion she’s wearing a cinnamon-colored wig and non-prescription Sarah Palin glasses.
Maybe’s plan is to follow Professor Toth at a distance and wait until a killing opportunity presents itself. She’s prepared to tail him all day and half the night, if necessary, but she catches an amazing break when Toth exits the classroom and walks into the men’s room directly across the hall!
Don’t professors pee in the teacher’s lounges?
Apparently not always.
Maybe seizes the opportunity, and quietly slips into the bathroom after giving him a twenty second head start. The bathroom is laid out with two sinks on the right wall as you enter, then a divider, and four urinals beyond the divider. On the left, across from the urinals, are two stalls. Maybe can’t believe her good fortune. They’re alone in the men’s room, she’s at the sink, he’s peeing at one of the urinals behind the divider, and neither can see the other. But she can hear him peeing. She removes the gun from her handbag, even though she was told not to. But Maybe’s thinking if they’re interrupted, she can shoot her way out of the bathroom, if necessary. She turns the water on in the sink so Toth will think someone’s washing his hands, and then moves behind him, as if planning to use one of the stall toilets.
Toth never turns his head, content to stare straight ahead at the cement block wall eight inches in front of his face. Probably been taught all his life not to look around in case some other guy thinks you’re checking him out.
It occurs to Maybe that this is one of the great differences between men and women. A woman will always turn her head to see who’s entered the bathroom.
Maybe watches Toth moving his right hand up and down and realizes he’s shaking his penis. How odd, she thinks. She’s never had a penis, and hasn’t seen but a few in her life, but she can’t imagine it requires that much effort to get the last few drops of pee out. When Toth tucks his butt to stuff his mighty sword back in his pants, she walks right up behind him and fires two shots in the back of his head from less than a foot away.
Big mistake.
Maybe’s never shot anyone before, and hasn’t allowed for blood spatter. It’s everywhere, including her face. There’s so much blood she can hardly see out of her glasses.
But she can see enough.
She steps out of the way while Toth falls to the floor. He lands sideways, and rolls onto his back, and…
He’s still alive!
The back of his head is gone, and the man is still alive! His mouth is moving like a baby bird that’s waiting for its mama to drop a worm into it. What a wondrous machine the human body is, Maybe thinks, as she squeezes another shot into the space between his eyes. She goes to the sink, checks herself in the mirror, removes the bloody windbreaker she’d worn to give the impression of being twenty pounds heavier.
She stuffs the jacket in her purse, along with the glasses, and quickly scrubs her hands and face with soap, water, and paper towels. Then she stuffs the towels in her purse and heads out the bathroom door at a brisk pace.
14.
“Hi Daddy,” Maybe says to the voice mailbox. “I kissed a professor!”
Five minutes later her cell phone rings.
“ Already?” he says.
“Yup.”
“Tell me about it.”
She does.
Then he says, “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“There were no witnesses.”
“You were lucky.”
“I was good.”
“You were good,” he says. “Now tell me about Dr. Scott.”
Maybe smiles. “What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
“No!” she says. “Tell me it’s not true!”
“Talk to me, Maybe.”
“I like it when you use my name.”
“It’s not your name. It’s the name you chose.”
“Still, you usually call me Baby.”
“Tell me about Dr. Scott.”
“What is there to tell?”
“I thought the therapy was working.”
“You thought wrong.”
“How’d you do it?”
“What do your sources say?”
“I don’t have sources. I’m a hacker. I find things out the hard way. The reports are inconclusive.”
“Inconclusive is good.”
“Apparently, you’ve come up with a way to kill people that’s undetectable, at least till toxicology comes back.”
“Are you impressed?”
“Mildly. But they found the injection site, so it won’t take long. What might they find?”
“They might find a high concentration of nutmeg in his system.”
“Nice. Did you distill it yourself?”
“You’re starting to sound impressed.”
“I am impressed. It’s a poison that can be found in anyone’s spice cabinet. They’ll never be able to trace it back to you.”
“What else did the report say?”
“Dr. Scott was found dead in his office lying face down on the floor.”
“Anything else?”
“His pants were pulled down to his knees and a giant dildo had been pounded into his rectum.”
“You should’ve heard him scream.”
“Why would they use the term ‘pounded?’”
“There was a toolkit in his supply closet. With a large rubber mallet.”
“You should’ve told me you killed him.”
“Why?”
“To warn me.”
“You’re either good enough to take precautions, or you’re not,” Maybe says, indignantly.
“I took the necessary precautions.”
