Savage Tales

altogether.

    The police arrived a few minutes later. They searched through three piles of dust for anything like a clue.
    "What's that smell?" said one of the cops.
    "Like wheat fields," said his partner.
    "No, not wheat. More like barley."
    "Barley. Geez, McCormick, you know your grains."
    "My sister owns a bakery."
    "You never told me that."
    "There are so many things you don't know about me."
    "I'm glad we're partners."
    "What about this?" He indicated the dust.
    "The call said domestic violence. I don't see any violence here. I don't see any people. I just see dust."
    "And that barley smell."
    "Come on. Let's get out of here. Maybe we can find a bakery and get some bread."
    "Barley."
    When the police had gone, a black cat surfaced and went to the dust piles. He sniffed briefly at each one, then went on his way down an alley in search of a dark nook.

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