"Something about _taking in washing_--" Under less tragic circumstances, a nonsense line. But Cordell hadn't actually heard the words clearly enough to quote them with authority. That could mean he had heard words that sounded _like_ "taking in washing." Taking, baking, making, slaking, raking--the list seemed endless. "Washing" could have been the first two syllables of Washington--and Washington would be the place where the Atomic Energy Commission hung out. Still too hazy. He leaned back and put his feet up and attacked the three mysterious words from every conceivable angle. No dice. * * * * * Sight of the ambling figure of Patrolman Chenowich passing the office door caught his eye, reminding him that two heads were often better than one. "Hey, Frank." Chenowich came in. "Yeah, Lieutenant. Somethin' doin'?" "I'm trying to figure out a little problem," Kirk explained carelessly. "Let's say you hear a guy talking in the next room. You can't really make out the words he's saying, but right in the middle of his mumbling you hear what sounds like 'taking in washing.' Now you know that can't be right, so you try to think out what he actually _did_ say...." It was obvious Chenowich had fallen off on the first curve, so completely off that Kirk didn't bother finishing what was much too involved to begin with. The patrolman was staring at him in monstrous perplexity. "Jeez, Lieutenant. I don't get it. 'Less the guy's goin' to open up one of these here laundries. That way he'd be takin' in washin'. But I don't know what else--" Kirk's feet hit the floor with a solid thump and he grabbed Chenowich's wrist with fingers that bit in like steel. "Say that again!" he shouted. "Say it just that way!" The patrolman recoiled in alarm. "What's got into you, Lieutenant? Say _what_?" "Taking in washing!" "Takin' in washin'? What for?" Kirk's grin threatened to split his face, "The same words," he said, "but you say them different. Only your way's the right way! Thanks, pal. Now get out of here!" Chenowich went. His mouth was still open and his expression still troubled, but he went. The last of the killer's cryptic remarks was now clear. For Kirk realized that "takin'" rhymed with words you'd never associate with "taking." "Bacon", for instance--or "Dakin"! Alma Dakin, former secretary to two widely separated, and now dead, nuclear scientists. Her name had been mentioned by the slayer of Professor Gilmore only seconds before she had clubbed the savant to death. But now that "taking" had come out "Dakin"--what did the rest of the phrase mean? _Dakin in washing_ made no sense. What sounded like _washing_? Washing; washing ... _watching_? It was close; in fact nothing he could think of came closer.