"I know and it kills me but that's the way it is. It's gotten me down in the dumps lately."

"Don't use melancholy for an excuse for crass behavior. You owe the others some answers too, not just me."

"I know. I know."

"We all have our lives tied up in what the five of us are doing so any decision you make has a profound effect on everyone." I knew he was squirming but I pressed on. "Do you love her?"

"Yeah, I do. First and only love, I guess."

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I doubted it was the first. Any other guy, who crept remotely near Martha, much less had sex with her, fell head over heels in love. However, I wasn't about to pursue that subject. Instead, I pried. "I don't mean to pry, Howie, but can you tell me why she's estranged from her family and what are the complications she mentions?"

He took a very deep breath. "I was going to tell you about Molly. She's Julie's nine year old daughter. She's cute as a princess and smart, like her mother. I'm going to adopt her as soon as Julie and I get married."

I was speechless. Julie had a daughter! I slapped him on the back, a sort-of congratulation, but didn't say a word. Nor did I open my mouth further, the entire walk back to the office.

When we reached the steps, I turned to him. "No more secrets, Howie. It's not fair." He nodded.

We were met by three inquisitive stares. I was resigned it was my duty to explain the situation, with or without Howie's input, but Betsy interrupted before I could begin.

"Mr. Brennan posted that he wants you to call him. He says it's urgent!"

While Daniel Brennan was aware of us as a group, he and I were the only ones that spoke directly. He knew I had a wife and there was at least one other female and we numbered five. I volunteered no more information, nor did he want it, doubly so now that he might be suspected of having ties to us because of the frequent inquiries he made. True to his word, he'd rather not know any answers than lie to inquisitors.

I could tell from Brennan's voice he was agitated. "Brenda Washington was murdered," he growled. The name wasn't familiar to me. He continued. "You must have known her voice. She took about eighty percent of your tips at the call center."

I began to shake. "Is this tied to us?"

"You better believe it! I'm sure it's your Delaware-Alabama guy, the one who murdered the fake psychic Youngblood in California."




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