The Billionaire Professor 2 (2015)
It seemed like only moments had passed. But the four of us had been busy talking so I’m sure it was probably more like an hour since the last conversation with the police.
Paul answered his cell phone and was told that Barry O’Malley had just been let out of prison for a crime remarkably similar to Daphne’s. This murder, it seemed, took place in France. The victim was involved in a vitriolic bidding war for a masterpiece. The following day, she was found dead in her mansion and the only thing taken was the painting that she had bought the day before.
While the police were bringing him in for questioning, there was something about the whole thing that bothered me. Barry O’Malley was a professional art thief and far too clever to commit the same crime twice. It just didn’t sound like the same person I knew and trusted.
But the police were more than confident and weren’t worried about the small detail about my gun at the crime scene -- at least not at this. “They seem to think,” Paul said, “that a thief of that caliber could easily sneak in here undetected and steal one of your guns. And if that was all they were taking, it may take months or longer for you to notice it was missing.”
Paul finished his explanation with a resounding, “You’re off the hook, little brother. The police are convinced they’ve found the right person.”
I have to admit, I didn’t know that gun was missing until it showed up at the crime scene, so I guess that could be a plausible explanation.
Still, it was a relief and I couldn’t help but be overjoyed.
Paul and Carly were ecstatic. I was doing the happiest happy dance ever. Paul came up to the two of us and said, “I don’t think I ever saw Paul this happy.”
I took his approaching as a cue to give Carly and Paul some congratulatory time together. They had spent many hours together working hard to find the real killer. I ran over to Max and gave him the most passionate kiss a man could ever ask for.
I really didn’t care how many lovers he may have had before me. I’m guaranteeing no one had ever laid a lip lock on him the likes of the one I just had placed on him. I felt as if I were part of that iconic photograph shot at the end of World War II in Times Square. A sailor was kissing a young woman with apparent uncontrollable emotion upon hearing the news that the war had ended.
I heard Paul calling room service for a bottle of champagne. Personally, my emotions were engulfed in Max to pay much attention to anything else around me. Everything else seemed to fade into the background.