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he offered the officer a way out. "Look, Lieutenant, if you have something to do, I can wrap this up here." |
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Proctor saw the opening and took it. "Matter of fact, Inspector, I do. I've got to get back to the basepaperwork, that sort of thing." |
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The old man could read between the lines and recognize the impatience of youth. And, even though he didn't feel like it, he forced a tired smile. "I'll stop by your office when I'm through here," he assured the young man. |
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Proctor left, still buttoning his coat. Dawkins watched him turn up his collar against the chill as he went down the sidewalk. |
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Alone now, the weary Inspector continued to rotate the jar against the room's inadequate light. To his surprise, it had grown warm to the touch. Finally he decided to do what he had known he would do all along. He pried off the lid just as the jar slipped from his hands and toppled sideways, spilling the contents along with the foul-smelling liquid all over the surface of the counter. |
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It wasn't one object, but three, varied in size and color from a faded, almost feminine pink to a beligerent red. Each was moving, beating in a labored, unsynchronized, primitive fashion, each emitting a chorus of childlike whimpering sounds. There was something primordial about them, something incredibly |
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