In my newsletter, I will be publishing a novella, one chapter per edition (sign up's on my blog: http://bethovermyer.blogspot.com or my website: http://bethovermyer.com.)
Mr. Towne was a picture worthy of Rembrandt when I found him in his secret hidey-hole. It was a broom-closet of a room, which he dedicated to the sole purpose of bacterial warfare. Test tubes lay here, crumpled papers were scattered there, and over everything there lay the distinct reek of pipe smoke. My employer was slumped forward with his face planted on the table. Hair the color of the coal dust on my boots, figure as dashing and athletic as any man half his age could hope for…not that I noticed or cared.
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