By Isaac Asimov
Everybody knew that Ralph Neufeld was once a cautious younger chemist, in particular his professor, Lou Brade. that is why Ralph's unintended loss of life as a result of a confusion of chemical substances struck Brade as hugely not going. The police agreed.
Someone on campus had switched bottles on bad Ralph and the outcome was once as lethal as have been deliberate. the difficulty used to be all of the correct suspects have been within the fallacious locations whilst it happened...all the inaccurate suspects had the fitting motives...and the only individual such a lot certified to resolve the crime was once already being referred to as the killer!
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Extra resources for A Whiff of Death
One whispered to the other and their eyes followed him. Brade hunched his shoulders and walked on. He hadn't bought the paper that morning. Doubtless it carried the story. Well, did that make him a curiosity, for God's sake? Did the death's head show through the skin of his face? Was there a sign: cyanide, beware? He found himself striding at a ridiculous pace and forced his steps to slow as he walked through the large double door. And just turning left at that point made the day begin wrong. He should turn right toward the elevator which would take him to the fourth floor and his office.
That's possible. " "If you were to try it, you would see. To the detective on the case, both chemicals seemed white and crystalline and that was enough for him. But that's not all there is and heaven knows I didn't encourage him to do more than look. The two substances aren't alike. They pack differently. The sodium acetate absorbs atmospheric moisture more than the cyanide does, so the crystals clump together more. " Doris sat on the couch across from him, a quiet, menacing figure in the dimness.
He replaced his glasses and looked about the laboratory again. Why be marked by meeting Death a little more closely this once? He met him, after all, every day, every moment, in every direction. Look at him there, sitting in half a hundred reagent bottles of brown glass, crowding the shelves. Each bottle of Death was clearly labelled, each filled in varying amounts with its particular kind of fine, pure crystals. Most of them looked like salt. Salt could kill, of course. Take enough of it and it will kill.