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darker moments I find cold cleansing. Not refreshing so much as necessary.
And cold it was.Far too cold now, for coffee and the start of the day amid
the last tattered pieces of the dream.
As a rule I don't remember my dreams, and don't attach any importance to them
if I do. So it was ridiculous that this one was staying with me.
 floating above this perfect tight work space my hand in perfect unison with
that other hand goes up and arches back for a perfect cut
I've read the books. Perhaps because I'll never be one, humans are
interesting to me. So I know all the symbolism: Floating is a form of flying,
meaning sex. And the knife
Ja, HerrDoktor . The knifeisteine mother,ja ?
Snap out of it, Dexter.
Just a stupid, meaningless dream.
The telephone rang and I almost jumped out of my skin.
 How about breakfast atWolfie's ? saidDeborah. My treat.
 It's Saturday morning, I said.  We'll never get in.
 I'll get there first and get a table, she said.  Meet you there.
Wolfie'sDeli onMiami Beach was aMiami tradition. And because theMorgans are
aMiami family, we had been eating there all our lives on those special deli
occasions. Why Deborah thought today might be one of those occasions was
beyond me, but I was sure she would enlighten me in time. So I took a shower,
dressed in my casual Saturday best, and drove out to the Beach. Traffic was
light over the new improved MacArthur Causeway, and soon I was politely
elbowing my way through the teeming throngs atWolfie's .
True to her word, Deborah had corralled a corner table. She was chatting with
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an ancient waitress, a woman even I recognized.  Rose, my love, I said,
bending to kiss her wrinkled cheek. She turned her permanent scowl on me.  My
wild Irish Rose.
 Dexter, she rasped, with her thick middle-European accent.  Knock off with
the kiss, like somefaigelah .
 Faigelah.Is that Irish for fiancé? I asked her, and slid into my chair.
 Feh, she said, trudging off to the kitchen and shaking her head at me.
 I think she likes me, I told Deborah.
 Somebody should, said Deb.  How was your date last night?
 A lot of fun, I said.  You should try it sometime.
 Feh, said Deborah.
 You can't spend all your nights standing onTamiami Trail in your underwear,
Deb. You need a life.
 I need a transfer, she snarled at me. To Homicide Bureau. Then we'll see
about a life.
 I understand, I said.  It would certainly sound better for the kids to
sayMommie's in homicide.
 Dexter, for Christ's sake, she said.
 It's a natural thought, Deborah.Nephews and nieces.More littleMorgans .Why
not?
She blew out a long breath.  I thought Mom was dead, she said.
 I'm channeling her, I said. Through the cherry Danish.
 Well, change the channel. What do you know about cell crystallization?
I blinked.  Wow, I said.  You just blew away all the competition in the
Subject Changing Tournament.
 I'm serious, she said.
 Then I really am floored, Deb. What do you mean, cell crystallization?
 From cold, she said. Cells that have crystallized from cold.
Light flooded my brain.  Of course, I said,  beautiful, and somewhere deep
inside small bells began to ring.Cold . . . Clean, pure cold and the cool
knife almost sizzling as it slices into the warm flesh.Antiseptic clean
coldness, the blood slowed and helpless, so absolutely right and totally
necessary; cold.  Why didn't I  I started to say. I shut up when I saw
Deborah's face.
 What, Deb demanded.  What of course?
I shook my head.  First tell me why you want to know.
She looked at me for a long hard moment and blew out another breath.  I think
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you know, she said at last.  There's been another murder.
 I know, I said.  I passed it last night.
 I heard you didn't actually pass it.
I shrugged. Metro Dade is such a small family.
 So what did that  of course' mean?
 Nothing, I said, mildly irritated at last.  The flesh of the body just
looked a little different. If it was subjected to cold  I held out my hands.
 That's all, okay?How cold?
 Like meat-packing cold, she said.  Why would he do that?
Because it's beautiful, I thought.  It would slow the flow of blood, I said.
She studied me.  Is that important?
I took a long and perhaps slightly shaky breath. Not only could I never
explain it, she would lock me up if I tried.  It's vital, I said. For some
reason I felt embarrassed.
 Why vital?
 It, ah I don't know. I think he has a thing about blood, Deb. Just a feeling
I got from I don't know, no evidence, you know.
She was giving me that look again. I tried to think of something to say, but [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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