My wife refused to hear my recorded conversation until we gathered the group the following weekend. When Friday arrived, we were a pensive clutch as we clustered in the Leblanc living room after I'd played the tape of Merrill Cooms' offer. A stony silence followed the second playing.
"Food for thought," I offered.
Martha began to pace the room. "More like a banquet."
I couldn't read if they were enthralled or dismissive of the prospect. Personally, the thought we might work together in one location, absent the hectic schedule presently exhausting us, made me giddy and set my mind a-tumble with possibilities. However, I was but one of five.
Betsy suggested Howie should pay a visit to Mr. Merrill Cooms. "This is a life changing offer and we need all the information we can gather before we consider the ramifications.
We readily agreed in spite of the late Friday night hour. Quinn set Howie up for late the prior afternoon at Mr. Cooms' home. He fell into his now familiar sleep immediately.
He later reported Cooms lived in a large estate house overlooking a lake. He recognized the grandson as the victim of the earlier abduction on which he'd reported. The old man and child were playing checkers in comfortable den when a housekeeper called them to dinner. Cooms doted on the boy who seemed to return his affection. Nothing was learned from the brief visit that contradicted what the man had said to me. We never-the-less decided to postpone discussion until the following day when, as Martha said, we had a night of rumination and our wits about us.
On Saturday morning Howie spoke up as we gathered for coffee. He seldom offered an opinion, much less began a conversation.
"Let's get to work today and talk tonight. If we get started on this Cooms guy's offer, we'll waste all day."
While I remained eager to discuss the conversation, I couldn't disagree with Howie's logic. We buckled down and managed three sessions. Only one, in Alabama, was a partial success. A young girl was taken from her bed as she slept. Fortunately, her father heard a car drive away so the time of abduction was clearly set. Unfortunately, he did not miss the child until the following morning. It was a moonless night and the perpetrator cut the power, pitching the farm house into total darkness. While Howie witnessed the sleeping child rendered unconscious and taken from her room, he was only able to give a general description of the responsible figure; a man perhaps five nine or ten, heavy set or muscular. He was wearing a hooded sweat shirt and gloves.