More?”
“That’s between me and my client.”
“Don’t take her money,” he said again. “No matter what you may think, Doc, she’s not a rich woman. She works at a bank, for crying out loud. If she’s offering you that kind of money, she’s putting her house in hock, I can tell you that. Don’t take it.”
Nick leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Ten minutes ago she couldn’t believe that Jimmy would kill himself, because she knew Jimmy. Now—thanks to you—she isn’t sure what she knows. Unless I miss my guess, she’ll still want to do everything in her power to find out anything she can.”
Nick began to carefully place each container back into the knapsack, followed by the wrinkled paper bag.
“You know”—the sheriff nodded toward the knapsack—“I could confiscate all this and put an end to it right now.”
“But you won’t,” Nick said, smiling, “because she might not forgive you for it. And I have a feeling that’s a risk you’re not willing to take.”
“I won’t let Kathryn be taken advantage of,” the sheriff said without emotion. “I will do everything in my power to protect her.”
“Are you sure it’s Kathryn you’re trying to protect?”
Nick slung the pack over one shoulder and stepped toward the door. He stopped and turned back to the sheriff.
“I intend to take her money,” he said. “And I intend to earn it.”
From each plastic container Nick selected two or three plump maggots, carefully avoiding both the largest and smallest specimens, and dropped them into a small vial of 70 percent isopropyl alcohol to preserve them. Each died almost instantly and floated softly to the bottom. He capped each vial tightly and labeled the victims exactly as he had designated their living counterparts: left ocular, right temporal, left temporal … He treated the hungry survivors in each plastic container to several strips of raw liver and transferred the lot to the wire shelves of the large chrome and glass unit in the corner of the room.
It was after midnight now, and Nick was still hard at work under the glaring blue fluorescent lights of his office lab. He sat down at the gray-and-white dissecting microscope and maneuvered a glass slide directly under the lens. No sooner had he reached for the focus knob than the exterior door to his left suddenly swung open. There in the darkness stood the exhausted figure of Kathryn Guilford.
“Close the door,” Nick said without looking up.
“Are you worried that I might let out some of your precious bugs?”
“I’m worried about the bugs you might let in—especially the dermestids. They’re dry-tissue eaters, and they’d love to make a snack out of my mounted specimens.”
Kathryn stood motionless in the open doorway until he finally glanced up reluctantly from his microscope.
“Pretty please?”
Nick studied the standing form of Kathryn Guilford. She was tall, he observed, about 175 centimeters—maybe more. She was wide in the shoulders, with a very lean body mass—perhapsan athletic background. The thorax tapered tightly toward the abdomen, producing a full, rounded curve of the hips. The legs were long and tanned and very lean. The face was equally lean; the zygomatic arch was prominent, producing a high cheekbone, and the nose was long and straight, ending almost in a chisel point. The eyes were wide and very green. The hair was a deep auburn, and she seemed to make less fuss about it than women typically do. Right now she wore it down, but he could imagine it pulled back in a thick ponytail. Green eyes, auburn hair, and a spray of freckles across the nose. Overall it was a pleasing figure, one that Nick imagined some men would find quite beautiful.
Kathryn stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. She rolled out a chair from under the table to her right and sat down across from Dr. Polchak. “You’re probably surprised to see me.”
“I’m surprised to see anyone at this hour.
“That’s between me and my client.”
“Don’t take her money,” he said again. “No matter what you may think, Doc, she’s not a rich woman. She works at a bank, for crying out loud. If she’s offering you that kind of money, she’s putting her house in hock, I can tell you that. Don’t take it.”
Nick leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Ten minutes ago she couldn’t believe that Jimmy would kill himself, because she knew Jimmy. Now—thanks to you—she isn’t sure what she knows. Unless I miss my guess, she’ll still want to do everything in her power to find out anything she can.”
Nick began to carefully place each container back into the knapsack, followed by the wrinkled paper bag.
“You know”—the sheriff nodded toward the knapsack—“I could confiscate all this and put an end to it right now.”
“But you won’t,” Nick said, smiling, “because she might not forgive you for it. And I have a feeling that’s a risk you’re not willing to take.”
“I won’t let Kathryn be taken advantage of,” the sheriff said without emotion. “I will do everything in my power to protect her.”
“Are you sure it’s Kathryn you’re trying to protect?”
Nick slung the pack over one shoulder and stepped toward the door. He stopped and turned back to the sheriff.
“I intend to take her money,” he said. “And I intend to earn it.”
From each plastic container Nick selected two or three plump maggots, carefully avoiding both the largest and smallest specimens, and dropped them into a small vial of 70 percent isopropyl alcohol to preserve them. Each died almost instantly and floated softly to the bottom. He capped each vial tightly and labeled the victims exactly as he had designated their living counterparts: left ocular, right temporal, left temporal … He treated the hungry survivors in each plastic container to several strips of raw liver and transferred the lot to the wire shelves of the large chrome and glass unit in the corner of the room.
It was after midnight now, and Nick was still hard at work under the glaring blue fluorescent lights of his office lab. He sat down at the gray-and-white dissecting microscope and maneuvered a glass slide directly under the lens. No sooner had he reached for the focus knob than the exterior door to his left suddenly swung open. There in the darkness stood the exhausted figure of Kathryn Guilford.
“Close the door,” Nick said without looking up.
“Are you worried that I might let out some of your precious bugs?”
“I’m worried about the bugs you might let in—especially the dermestids. They’re dry-tissue eaters, and they’d love to make a snack out of my mounted specimens.”
Kathryn stood motionless in the open doorway until he finally glanced up reluctantly from his microscope.
“Pretty please?”
Nick studied the standing form of Kathryn Guilford. She was tall, he observed, about 175 centimeters—maybe more. She was wide in the shoulders, with a very lean body mass—perhapsan athletic background. The thorax tapered tightly toward the abdomen, producing a full, rounded curve of the hips. The legs were long and tanned and very lean. The face was equally lean; the zygomatic arch was prominent, producing a high cheekbone, and the nose was long and straight, ending almost in a chisel point. The eyes were wide and very green. The hair was a deep auburn, and she seemed to make less fuss about it than women typically do. Right now she wore it down, but he could imagine it pulled back in a thick ponytail. Green eyes, auburn hair, and a spray of freckles across the nose. Overall it was a pleasing figure, one that Nick imagined some men would find quite beautiful.
Kathryn stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. She rolled out a chair from under the table to her right and sat down across from Dr. Polchak. “You’re probably surprised to see me.”
“I’m surprised to see anyone at this hour.
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