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Page 136
boom wasn't thunder. Maybe it was some kind of military transport blowing up, and it had a nasty cargo.'
'You think so?'
'Hell, I don't know. I'm a painter, for godsake. You're the science teacher around here.'
'I'm no great research chemist. An MA in biology, that's it. And a secondary credential.'
'You must keep up on new developments.'
'Yeah, well Scientific American hasn't run any articles on black shit that gives people the hots for murder.'
'Maybe you missed that issue.'
Steve suddenly burst out with laughter. His face went red and he covered his mouth. 'John, you're weird.'
'That's what my kid tells me. Come on, let's get out of here and cheer up the ladies.'
They stepped around a couple of guys carrying the last body.
'I don't know about you,' Steve said, 'but I'm going to wash my hands.'
John glanced at his own hands. There was no black on them. He'd thought there wouldn't be. He'd checked the woman's ankles before picking her up, and they'd looked clean. Apparently, the legs of her slacks had protected them.
But he'd been touching a dead woman.
'I'll go with you,' he said, and followed Steve from the kitchen.
The dining room was dimly lighted. Most of the

 
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