"Remember I mentioned a guy named Cooms? He's Eric Campbell's grandfather on his mother's side. His name is Merrill Cooms," Brennan stated, sounding as if I should know the man. I didn't. "I've spoken with Cooms, a few times. Don't get alarmed but I've taken the liberty to be a tad candid with him."
"Did you tell him about us?"
"He just wants to talk to you; that's all. He's very grateful you rescued his grandson. The kid's the light of his life."
"We have this pledge among ourselves not getting a Texas mile near any of these cases."
"Just listen to what he has to say. You don't have to open your mouth." Brennan gave me the phone number even though I didn't agree to call.
"What do you think?" I asked the others after I'd explained Brennan's conversation. "I wouldn't consider it except for Daniel Brennan. He's been on the up and up with us to date."
"Let's do our homework first," said my logical wife. "That's a Cleveland area code. Let me see what I can find on grateful Mr. Cooms."
Within an hour Betsy had assembled a full biography. Merrill Cooms was in his early seventies, a widow and the somewhat reclusive owner of a multitude of businesses. He was world-class wealthy. The list of his honors and achievements were exceeded only by his philanthropic connections and contributions. She could find no negative remarks about the self-made man.
"I say give him a call," Martha said.
"Maybe Howie should pay him a visit," Quinn suggested.
After a brief discussion we decided to telephone first and leave the visit option on the table, at least for now.
"Do you want to listen?" I asked. They all declined, once again, willing to let me carry pail up the hill.
"Mr. Brennan asked me call you," I said by way of introduction. I was alone, back in New York, on a totally secure line. Betsy absented herself, feeling it unfair to listen if the other couldn't.
"Yes," answered an old man's voice. "I'm pleased you're giving me the opportunity to thank you. Little Eric lives with me and is the most important part of my life. We lost his mother to cancer at an early age and his father is in jail, convicted of fraud. I owe you more than you could ever know."
"We're glad we could help."
"Brennan offered a hint of information. It seems you or your associates have a unique ability in these situations . . . more than unique; unprecedented. He talks of multiple instances where you've given detailed tips that prove successful in an uncanny number of instances. I took the liberty of confirming some of these cases. The results exceed any adjective in my poor vocabulary." When I didn't answer, he chuckled. "If I possessed a similar skill I'd remain silent as well. In fact, I'd confine myself to a bank vault or a guru's mountain top sanctuary. How many of you are there?"