Ordeal by Terror

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Lloyd Biggle jr.. Ordeal by Terror

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BOOKS BY LLOYD BIGGLE, JR.

SCIENCE FICTION

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In the shopping mall parking lot, Mondor’s convertible stood beside Dolan’s wreck of a car. The latter’s junkyard appearance was as distinctive as that of Mondor’s exotic import. Dolan would be taking his repast at a place called Barney’s Pub, swilling beer with a sandwich. Mondor, a food faddist who believed all meat was poisonous, ate at The Greenry, where the salad bar was reputed to be the most lavish in Washtenaw County. Adelle had never seen the inside of either establishment. She went to her bank’s branch office and split her paycheck into three parts—savings, checking, and a small amount of cash for pocket money. Then she treated herself to a light lunch, without soup, at a tidy little restaurant that called itself The Soup Kettle.

When she finished, Mondor’s silly little foreign car was gone, but not Dolan’s rusted junker—he would stay with the beer until the last minute of his lunch hour if not beyond it. His lateness is returning from lunch was the subject of some of the jokes Mondor told Madam about him. Madam gleefully relayed them to both Dolan and Adelle, but—as far as Adelle knew—her cackle was Dolan’s only reprimand. Dolan’s excuse for every tardiness, which he would tell with a straight face even when surrounded by clocks, was that he didn’t have a watch.

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