By Isaac Asimov
Every body knew that Ralph Neufeld used to be a cautious younger chemist, in particular his professor, Lou Brade. that is why Ralph's unintentional death because of a confusion of chemical substances struck Brade as hugely not going. The police agreed.
Someone on campus had switched bottles on negative Ralph and the end result used to be as lethal as were deliberate. the difficulty used to be all of the correct suspects have been within the incorrect areas while it happened...all the inaccurate suspects had the best motives...and the single individual so much certified to unravel the crime used to be already being known as the killer!
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Extra resources for A Whiff of Death
Brade nodded. " Shulter brushed gray hair back off his forehead and exposed more of a sleek face that obviously perspired easily and was glistening now. He said, "Well, this will make a stink. " "I've met him. He takes books out of the medical library and then won't return them. I had to send a gaggle of librarians out after him to get a volume I needed and he reduced one of them to tears by being quite nasty about it. " He left. The medical man brought in by the police agreed with the diagnosis, made a few brisk notations and disappeared.
He doesn't want me to come, thought Brade. I'm touched by death. Bad publicity. If it weren't for Doris, we wouldn't come. Poor Doris. If there were a chance for promotion before, it looked rather desperate now. There was no largesse gleaming in Littleby's rather small eyes. Poor himself. Would Doris manage to bear it? She sometimes talked desperately but she had found hidden reserves before and surely she would again. Another thought of another kind came to him as he turned and walked out of the office.
He used two of them, one yesterday, one the day before, and they didn't hurt him. It was the third that killed him. The seven that remained were harmless. "Now if Ralph had mistaken sodium cyanide for sodium acetate—we'll say he was on edge, his nerves were shot, he didn't know what he was doing, anything you like—he would have filled every one of the flasks with cyanide. He would not have filled one, then gone back to the shelf like a zombie ajid gotten the acetate for the others. " Doris frowned.
A Whiff of Death by Isaac Asimov