remains, we'd better let the coroner's office take over. I'm
sure they'll be calling you."
Usher left the study deep in thought. Something
was forming at the back of his mind and he didn't care for
the shape of it at all. Those strips of skin in an orderly
pile….How could a man who was skinning himself alive,
in the throes of what must be unimaginable agony and
mental turmoil, have the presence of mind to make sure
his cast -off dermis was carefully arrayed in such a
manner? And yet, if not Alex…?
The smell of fresh coffee beckoned from the
kitchen. Eleanor Greenway smiled at the doctor as he
entered the room. At sight of her, Usher's uneasiness
deepened. Although she was pale, her smile was entirely
too bright, too incongruous. Either she was in shock or...
"I'm just about to have a cup of coffee, Doctor,"
she said in an even tone. "Won't you join me?"
Warily, Usher approached the kitchen table.
"Thank you, Eleanor," he replied. Observing her carefully
he added, "This is such a horrible tragedy. I am so deeply
sorry."
Eleanor readily agreed. "Yes. Poor Alex. I guess he
was so desperate he became totally mad. I was afraid
something awful would happen. Imagine thinking that he
could solve his problem by cutting off his skin!" She
approached the doctor and handed him a mug of steaming
coffee. There was no tremor in her hand, he noted. It was
completely steady.
"Cream? Sugar?"
"Please," he replied. He chose his next words
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