Professor Plum Clue Movie Novels & Stories

What to do? "Vikas, see our new hot English professor." Anu pointed in the direction where he is standing. I also looked in that direction like an idiot, not able to control myself anymore as I was desperately waiting to look at him. He is ordering something at the counter and his thumbs are hooked in the pockets of his jeans. I just can't take off my eyes from his handsome face and his mysterious and intense eyes. The way his perfect pinky lips are moving, I'm just speechless.

… The next morning, Chloe acted like nothing had happened, casually handling one of her other cameras. I tested her. "The camera I sold–did you clear the memory card?" "Of course," she replied. "You always check before selling something." The answer sounded fine. However, her eyes were blinking too quickly. She was lying. I did not expose her. By nine-thirty that night, she was getting restless. "Jake, aren't you going out to work?" I sneered inwardly. "Of course. Big night–I can't miss it." I left the house and rode straight to Triumph Hotel.

They’d caught her on camera going into my hostel and it was dated around the time my side of the room had been torn apart. The P.I was right to assume that there could have been two people involved. Two psycho relatives. “Professor Deric is moody today.” Jack whispered beside me. I rolled my eyes at him. “He’s always moody.” “Nah. Today’s different.” “How would you know?” I was turning defensive all of a sudden. “Guess who’s moody too.” I frowned at Jack. He was right, I was moody too but I was going to blame it on PMS.

“Hmm. He told me to pick a place so what do you think is the best place to go for a vacation now?” I thought over it for some second before a place clicked in my head. I leaned forward to tell her about it but something caught my attention behind her, in the distance. The back of the man looked familair and when he turned around, my heart almost raced out of my chest. Professor Marison was walking toward a table and behind him was a woman who looked to be around his age. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and a nice smile. I could not help but eye the way her white short dress fit her slim and curvy build.

The same mouth that had been on me last night. Professor Elias Thorne. The man I fucked senseless in a hotel room. The man I was supposed to marry. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on me. I could see the same recognition I had on my face, flash through his. But it was gone in a second as he cleared his throat and stepped onto the podium. “Good morning,” he said calmly. “I’m Professor Thorne. Welcome to Advanced Literary Theory.” For a moment I just remained transfixed. Mara nudged me. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

After it ended, they got into a huge, cutthroat quarrel about its plot even before setting foot outside of the cinema. They had placed a bet on who the murderer was half an hour into the movie. In the end, even though Vanessa turned out to be wrong, she still stubbornly believed that she had made the right call. She re-analyzed and scrutinized every clue she learned of before; still, she ended up with the same conclusion - that the real murderer was the one whom she had guessed. Julien explained that this was the actual plot-hole of the movie. Perhaps the scriptwriters did not want it to be an easy guess for the audience. Thus, he threw in another clue right before the movie's climax to turn

Emma responds. “I pray so too,” I say making my way inside the cinema. I join the queue to get our tickets for ‘Avengers: End game’ and Ismail joins the same queue. “That’s it! There is no way you can tell me you are a Marvel fan,” I say not understanding why he is following me everywhere I go today. “For your information, I am,” he says. “Prove it to me.” I say not believing him. For the past ten minutes that we have both been standing in the queue, Ismail has proved to me that he is a bigger Marvel fan than I am.

He found it immediately. His face. Paused. He pressed play. Music thudded faintly through the speakers, but he focused on his mouth. Laughing. Loose. Careless. “Professor Moore is so—” He didn’t need sound to finish it. ...so fucking sexy.... Cheers behind him. Bodies surging. “She doesn’t even know—” Cut. The video looped. He stopped it. Heat crawled up his neck. He hated how he looked. Unaware. Uncontained. Easy.

Taking a seat by the small table, she absentmindedly stirred her spoon around, her mind wandering back to Elliot. How was she supposed to bring it up? Should she confront him directly? Thank him? Tell him not to do it again? She sighed, taking a spoonful of cereal. It was frustrating. One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t notice. Elliot wasn’t going to get away with sneaking money into her things like some sort of mysterious benefactor. The thought made her lips twitch. Professor Benefactor. She finished her breakfast quickly, rinsed the bowl, and grabbed her things.