(from p. 16 of the novel)

     Only three times in the past six years had Chief Dade County Medical Examiner, Geoffrey A. Westley, called me into his office. He was a living legend in Miami. He was frequently in the newspapers and on the evening news, stating an opinion on a perplexing murder. Short, pudgy Dr. Westley rose slowly from behind his desk to greet me. He gave me a soft handshake and asked me to sit down. His skin had the texture and feel of blue cheese wrapped in cellophane -- soft, pale white, almost translucent. Small veins and arteries were visible along the stretch marks in his cheeks. He sank into his well-stuffed leather chair with a somewhat theatrical sigh.
     "Dr. Burk reports that you have gone to great lengths to improvise an extensive chemical screening of the blood sample in question and have found nothing."
     As always, Dr. Westley spoke in solf, yet well-enunciated tones which resonated at a pitch considerably higher than his natural voice. He dropped his pitch as he ended with "able to find nothing."
     "Well, sir, not al the results are in yet, and it might be possible ...."

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