Rue Morgue

October 28, 2015

 

Dear Hildie:

 

I hope you’re not drownded, as they used to say in my old neighborhood. Looks like Halloween may be a wash-out. Damn two of the last three years! But, then, the weathermen are seldom right.

 

I had an amusing dream the other night that Dr. Haag was taking me along to where Mary Manhein had a body on her table—that of a college guy who’d died because he stretched his body (yawning? Not sure) and dislocated his neck and died. Haag was being consulted because he knew everything about physical anthropology and I was flattered to be asked to accompany him. First we were going to her office in the old Geology building but somehow it mutated into an underground morgue, with all these workers of hers sleeping on cots in a hallway to the morgue and waiting for the next shift (she was awfully busy!). Everybody but me picked up a green surgical blouse and gloves and when we got to the door of the morgue I realized I’d have to get these, too, so I went back to where they were being issued. People sleeping or half asleep kept offering me the gloves but there were no more blouses. So I went outside to try to find one. Outside, I was in the streets of Paris, looking down at the morgue through an iron grill. I decided to c all MM and tell her I’d be a little late but I didn’t know if my cell phone worked there. Then I woke up.

 

Murders in the Rue Morgue? Who knows!

 

Take care, Love,

M


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