. but it hadn't been. His rubbery lips, his sudden grasp had been too vivid a simile to the postal clerk's hated touch... "Yes," Howard grinned, "too ...ig a deal even for her to pass up." He looked around, slapping the backs of some other men, acting as though he hadn't seen them for a coon's age, rather than just a matter of hours. "Say, what's that slop you're drinking, Art?" Howard asked, pointing to the glass the salesman was holding. "Looks like raspberry Kool-aid." Something called. Wayne was not a taxi driver. That was his cover job. He was a millionaire who had already raised two other girls to become powerful executives and professionals. The women Wayne brought up had to give a portion of their salaries to him. After Erika, his third child, Wayne planned to raise one more child and retire. I don't know whether Wayne's death was good or bad. On one hand he made girls better off financially when they grew up. On the other hand, that came at the cost of great pain and. More

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