By Rick Boyer
The Whale's Footprints
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Additional resources for The Whale's Footprints
Sunday morning brought a slow drizzle and lots of wind and fog. It was cold outside, a bone-chilling wet wind that went clear through you and made your teeth chatter. I sat at my desk and turned on the brass student lamp with the green glass shade. Tony's arrival at the Breakers had been postponed a day because of the storm, so we didn't expect him until afternoon. We had not told him of the tragedy yet. He would find out when he arrived. There was no word from the DeGroots either. This we didn't like.
I mean, Doc. Sea squirts are Hartzell's babies. We go through 'em by the bushel. He's working on a way for them to concentrate silver from sea water. Gonna make himself a billion dollars—" "What? Sea squirts? Silver? A billion dollars? What are you—" Mary interrupted us with some hummus and pita bread, then sat down with her glass of white, gazing at the fire and patting Danny, the yellow Lab, on his wide head. "Sea squirts are marine organisms that concentrate various elements in their tissues," Andy explained.
So guess what? " "I gave 'em your name. It's just temporary, of course. I mean, it's an appointment that's got to be confirmed and everything and I know you wouldn't want to do it full time. But you are a doctor, a full-fledged physician, right? Even though you just work on mouths and jaws now? " I sat down on the sofa to collect myself. Joe reminded me about the drink, so I went to the kitchen and made a couple. We sat in front of the fire and sipped. "Joe . . listen," I sighed, "I am not a good candidate for medical examiner.
The Whale's Footprints by Rick Boyer