Wyoh had started putting beds together; I went to help. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Chai and toast. Juice would be nice.”
“Not enough.”
“Well . . . a boiled egg. But I pay for breakfast.”
“Two boiled eggs, buttered toast with jam, juice. I’ll roll you.”
“Your dice, or mine?”
“Mine. I cheat.” I went to lift, asked for display, saw something called THE HAPPY HANGOVER–ALL PORTIONS EXTRA LARGE–tomato juice, scrambled eggs, ham steak, fried potatoes, corn cakes and honey, toast, butter, milk, tea or coffee–HKL $4.50 for two–I ordered it for two, no wish to advertise third person.
We were clean and shining, room orderly and set for breakfast, and Wyoh had changed from black outfit into red dress “because company was coming” when lift jingled food. Change into dress had caused words. She had posed, smiled, and said, “Mannie, I’m so pleased with this dress. How did you know it would suit me so well?”
“Genius.”
“I think you may be. What did it cost? I must pay you.”
“On sale, marked down to Authority cents fifty.”
She clouded up and stomped foot. Was bare, made no sound, caused her to bounce a half meter. “Happy landing!” I wished her, while she pawed for foothold like a new chum.
“Manuel O’Kelly! If you think I will accept expensive clothing from a man I’m not even bundling with!”
“Easily corrected.”
“Lecher! I’ll tell your wives!”
“Do that. Mum always thinks worst of me.” I went to lift, started dealing out dishes; door sounded. I flipped hearum-no-seeum. “Who comes?”
“Message for Gospodin Smith,” a cracked voice answered. “Gospodin Bernard O. Smith.”
I flipped bolts and let Professor Bernardo de la Paz in. He looked like poor grade of salvage–dirty clothes, filthy himself, hair unkempt, paralyzed down one side and hand twisted, one eye a film of cataract–perfect picture of old wrecks who sleep in Bottom Alley and cadge drinks and pickled eggs in cheap taprooms. He drooled.
As soon as I bolted door he straightened up, let features come back to normal, folded hands over wishbone, looked Wyoh up and down, sucked air kimono style, and whistled. “Even more lovely,” he said, “than I remembered!”
She smiled, over her mad. “‘Thanks, Professor. But don’t bother. Nobody here but comrades.”
“Señorita, the day I let politics interfere with my appreciation of beauty, that day I retire from politics. But you are gracious.” He looked away, glanced closely around room.
I said, “Prof, quit checking for evidence, you dirty old man. Last night was politics, nothing but politics.”
“That’s not true!” Wyoh flared up. “I struggled for hours! But he was too strong for me. Professor–what’s the party discipline in such cases? Here in Luna City?”
Prof tut-tutted and rolled blank eye. “Manuel, I’m surprised. It’s a serious matter, my dear–elimination, usually. But it must be investigated. Did you come here willingly?”
“He drugged me.”
“‘Dragged,’ dear lady. Let’s not corrupt the language. Do you have bruises to show?”
I said, “Eggs getting cold. Can’t we eliminate me after breakfast?”
“An excellent thought,” agreed Prof. “Manuel, could you spare your old teacher a liter of water to make himself more presentable?”
“All you want, in there. Don’t drag or you’ll get what littlest pig got.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He retired; were sounds of brushing and washing. Wyoh and I finished arranging table. “‘Bruises,'” I said. “Struggled all night.'”
“You deserved it, you insulted me.”
“How?”
“You failed to insult me, that’s how. After you drugged me here.”
“Mmm. Have to get Mike to analyze that.”
“Michelle would understand it. Mannie, may I change my mind and have a little piece of that ham?”
“Half is yours, Prof is semi-vegetarian.” Prof came out and, while did not look his most debonair, was neat and clean, hair combed, dimples back and happy sparkle in eye–fake cataract gone. “Prof, how do you do it?”
“Long practice, Manuel; I’ve been in this business far longer than you young people. Just once, many years ago in Lima–a lovely city–I ventured to stroll on a fine day without such forethought . . . and it got me transported. What a beautiful table!”
“Sit by me, Prof,” Wyoh invited. “I don’t want to sit by him. Rapist.”