The Professor's Murder

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Olga came into my flat and asked: "Don't you want to tell me anything?"

I have always been puzzled by the ability of the women creatures to force me (and, as I guess, the majority of mankind) into a defensive position. When my ex wife would phone me from the other city where she was on a business trip her first question would always be: "What are you busy with at the moment?" That implied that I was being engaged in an orgy with at least two call girls. Finally I decided to do my best to fit her expectations and we divorced. Olga was my current paramour and the implication behind her question might be something like: 'If you are guilty why don't kneel and kiss my feet to beg pardon?'

She was married to a university professor (twenty years older than she was) who had recently been invited to work at a university in the USA. Olga had to decide whether to go with her husband to live a comfortable life in America or stay with me here in Siberia. She was reasonable enough to choose the first alternative and my great fault was that I didn't stir a finger to dissuade her from going abroad. I was supposed to rend my hair in despair pleading her not to leave me. I did nothing of the sort and that fact infuriated her so that she began each her visit during the last two weeks trying to have it out with me.

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