Oh, Murderer Mine | Page 7

the puffy guy who pip-pips at people?" Doan asked.
"What goes with him, anyway? He acts like someone had just given
him a hotfoot."
"He's troubled with international spies," Beulah Porter Cowys said.
"Beulah," said Melissa, "it's not really right to make fun of him. He's a
refugee, Mr. Doan. He's a very brilliant research biochemist. He was a
professor at some university near Budapest with a name I can't
pronounce. I don't know just what he did, if anything, but when
Hungary threw in with Hitler, Sley-Mynick was arrested and put into a
concentration camp. They must have treated him terribly there.
Apparently it wrecked his nervous system."
"Did he escape from the place?" Doan asked.

"No. They decided, after they had half-killed him, that he was harmless
and let him go. After that, though, he did sneak out of Hungary and get
to Mexico some way or other. Then he nearly starved down there
waiting for a passport permit to get into the United States. Once he got
here, he ate so much he got bloated. He's had a rough time of it, and
he's so jumpy and jittery yet that he can't even give lectures. He hates to
meet strangers, and if anyone starts staring at him, he tries to crawl
inside his clothes. It's a shame, because I think he must have been a
nice man before all this happened to him."
"He was anyway a damned good biochemist," Beulah Porter Cowys
added.
"What do you teach?" Doan asked.
"Elementary physics. Very dull stuff."
A man came running up the front steps of the building and bounced
through the front door. He sensed that there was someone in front of
him, and he stopped so quickly he skidded, peering at them in a
myopically eager way. He was all hands and feet and freckles, and his
red hair was slicked down painfully flat except for three clumps at the
back that stuck out like an un-trimmed hedge. He spotted Melissa and
gave another bounce and an embarrassed gulp.
"Oh! Hello, hello! Hello, Melissa! I was just going to drop into your
office and--and say hello."
"You'd better say it here," Melissa advised. "My office has been
liberated."
"Really?"
"Yes. The enemy is in possession."
"What enemy?"
"A party known as Handsome Lover Boy, alias Eric Trent."

"Trent," said the newcomer. "Oh, yes. He's the new meteorology man. I
met him at the faculty lunch yesterday. He's very nice."
"He is not!"
"Isn't he?" the man asked anxiously.
"No! He's a boor and--and a cad!"
"Really?" said the man. "Was he rude to you, Melissa? Shall I go up
and hit him in the face?"
"Never mind," Melissa said. "Mr. Doan, this is Frank Ames. He's an
assistant professor of English. Mr. Doan is Handsome Lover Boy's
bodyguard, Frank."
"How odd," Ames said absently. "Melissa, you haven't forgotten, have
you? Tonight, I mean? Our date?"
"No, Frank. Just see that you don't forget..."
"I certainly wouldn't forget anything that concerned you or--Oh! Your
letter!" He commenced to fumble through his pockets. "It was in your
slot over at Administration... I put it somewhere I wouldn't
lose...Here!"
Melissa took the letter and opened it. "Well, well. A personal missive
from the president's office, if you please. And signed by T. Ballard
Bestwyck in person or a rubber stamp...Oh! Ooooooh!"
"What?" asked Beulah Porter Cowys.
"Gluck-gluck-gluck," Melissa said in frustrated incoherence. "Cluck! It
says I have to exchange apartments in Pericles Pavilion with
that--that--that--with Handsome Lover Boy because the one I'm in is a
double and his is a single and he needs more room! Just after I've
gotten mine decorated to suit me! I won't do it! I--will--not--do--it!"
"Oh, yes, you will," said Beulah Porter Cowys.

"Why?" Melissa demanded defiantly.
"Because T. Ballard Bestwyck told you to, and T. Ballard Bestwyck
sits at God's right hand."
"Oh, damn!" said Melissa. "Oh, double damn-damn-damn!"
* * *
The moon was riding high, red and fat and swollen with its own
importance, when Frank Ames' dusty little coupe puttered up the hill
and pulled into the curb opposite the Pericles Pavilion.
Frank Ames turned off the coupe's motor. He swallowed and took three
long, deep breaths and then turned and stared at Melissa in a
portentously concentrated manner. Melissa sighed and wiggled a little
on the slippery seat. She knew what was coming. It always did.
"Melissa," said Frank Ames, "I have a very serious matter which I wish
to present to you for your consideration. I wish to ask you--to entreat
you--"
"Thank you for the dinner and the movie," Melissa said.
"No," said Frank Ames. "I mean, it was a pleasure, but that isn't what I
wanted to--"
"I had a very nice time," Melissa told him.
"What? Oh, that's nice,