“Until you hit the guy with the chair,” Virgil said.
“Like I said, that asswipe came for me,” May said. “I didn’t hurt him or anything; he had a bruise on his arm, the little fuckin’ snowflake.”
“But then you invaded their territory...”
“Yeah. Katherine asked me to go along. She likes to stir up shit, but she also likes to have me between her and the shit she’s stirred up.”
“You’re a bodyguard.”
“Sorta. I mean, we went to India, and she was talking women’srights to these unemployed guys who looked like they’d carve out your kidneys for two dollars and a bottle of beer,” May said. “Stirring up some serious shit.”
“If she’s always stirring stuff up, why do you... go along with it?”
“Makes the Ph.D. easier. I’m good with Spanish, but my French sorta sucks,” May said. “Japanese? Forget about it. The other thing is, after I get my degree, I’d like to turn her upside down, if you know what I mean. Have you seen her?”
“Yes, but...” He looked back at the house. “Aren’t you married or something?”
“No, no, not me. That’s a friend in there,” May said. “I’m not even romantic with her. Not yet anyway. She comes over to watch my TV and wash her clothes. I have a washer and dryer in there. They’re kind of a chick magnet. Better than a dog.”
“Then you’ve got a few bucks... nice apartment, washer-dryer.”
“My old man does. Has a few bucks. He’s a good guy. With me he’s hoping for the best, you know? Get a credential, get a job. Willing to pay for school.”
—
May was beginning to seem unlikely as a suspect. Virgil couldn’t even think of a reason why Quill would be in a carrel with him, and, if he was, why Quill would turn his back on him. And May seemed to be considerably less than the Cultural Science warrior Virgil had imagined, more interested in getting into the professor’s shorts than actually becoming a cultural scientist.
Which Virgil could understand.
He asked May about the bow.
“Japanese,” May said. “I like it because it’s hard and weird.”
“I read a Zen archery book when I was going to school...”
“Zen in the Art of Archery.Eugen Herrigel. You must have been a hippie—all the hippies read that. It’s mostly bullshit,” May said. “This Japanese guy told me that Herrigel didn’t know enough Japanese to understand what his teacher was talking about, and his teacher wasn’t a Zen guy anyway. In fact, he was sort of a crank. This archery I’m doing isn’tkyudo—that’s what Herrigel was writing about. Mine is the Japanese combat form,kyujutsu.”
“You’re teaching yourself to kill people?”
May snorted. “If I was gonna kill somebody, I’d use a fuckin’ gun. If I had a gun.”
“Okay. I’m told you study Zen.”
“I do. That’s another thing women kinda like, you know? Seems all mystical and so on, like you’re spiritual. What I picked up in Japan was, Zen is about as mystical as dirt. But, it’s still cool.”
“‘Girls only want boyfriends who have great skills,’” Virgil said, quotingNapoleon Dynamite.
“That movie was about my life: guys with skills,” May said. “I got skills, but no girls—not right now anyway.”
“How about ever?” Virgil asked.
May scratched his neck. “Oh, yeah. They come, but then they go. Know what I mean? One day they’re sitting on your couch, the next day the couch is empty.”
He made Virgil laugh.
—
Virgil asked May if he might have any idea of who had killed Quill. He didn’t, and he didn’t think it would be anyone inCultural Science. “The people in the department would talk about it for eight years before they could do anything like that. They’re not people who act on impulse. If they saw somebody coming after them with an ax, they’d try to get the guy to discuss it rationally instead of running away.”
