"I was thinking the same thing."

In the biology office, two students studied the bulletin board as if it were a shrine.

Pinned to the cork were items for sale, birthday greetings to a professor, summer fellowship opportunities abroad, and a clipping about recent advances in computer simulation of fruit fly neural transmission.

Milo asked the receptionist where to find Juliet Harshberger.

"She's not here today."

"Any idea where we can find her?"

"No, sorry."

"Try her apartment," said one of the students, his eyes still on the board. Tall, dark, shaggy-haired, with poor posture, he giggled. "It'll be a high-probability endeavor because she's there more than she's here. Hell, maybe she'll even get her own lab there, never have to come in."

His companion, bespectacled, unshaven, stocky, raised an eyebrow.

The receptionist frowned. "Brian, is there something you need?"

Shaggy said, "No, Nadine, just spending a rare free moment searching for a potentially interesting way to spend July financed by someone else." To us: "My apartment's five rooms less than six, the walls start to close in."

The other student said, "Bitch, bitch, bitch."

Brian said, "And then you die, die, die."

The receptionist turned to us. "Anything else?"

Milo said, "Juliet Harshberger's address, please."

"I'm sorry, we're not supposed to."

Brian cackled and rattled off a street name and three digits.

Maliciously helpful but unnecessary. The girl on the veranda, snuggling up with Franck.

Nadine said, "Brian!"

Brian slapped his mouth. "Oops, silly me. Guess that slipped out because my prefrontal lobes are clogged from long nights of actually doing work."

"You're a prince," said his friend.

The receptionist said, "That was totally inappropriate."

Brian said, "So is coasting through grad school in the comfort of your six-room apartment with no serious obligations other than showing up to seminars while everyone else has to R.A. and T.A. and do mind-eroding scut."

Nadine flushed. "Brian, please--"

He stomped out, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, reality bites, big shocker." His friend looked at us, shrugged, followed.

Milo said, "Grumpy fellow."

Nadine said, "He just failed his orals."

When we caught up with Brian he was smoking a cigarette under an oak tree. The stocky boy had departed.

He sucked in a lungful of poison. "Once again, the gendarmerie."

Milo said, "Thanks for the info, Brian."

"Lucky for you, I'm an asshole."

"She's a rich girl, huh?"

"Her old man's Harshberger Petroleum Exploration. Nice Texas girl."

"Not smart enough to get in on her own?"

Brian ran a tongue inside his mouth. "Should I be fair or just spiteful?"

"Fair would be better."

"How about first telling me why the police are interested in her."

"It's in regard to her boyfriend."

"Sir Coiffure?"

"Pardon?"

"Her squeeze, the chemist. Changes his hairstyle every month. I figure he's researching dyes." Dry chuckle. "What'd he do?"

"He's a potential witness."

"To what?"

"Brian," said Milo, showing teeth, "I really need to be asking questions, not answering them. Juliet's not smart, huh?"