Brain Dead
“So had Cindy, the insurance company, and the lawyer, who had called to tell Timmie that Jason's latest salvo had been successfully blocked. After the day she'd had, Timmie decided that the only person she wanted to talk to was Conrad.
"Bella donna!" he crowed in her ear as she sat half sprawled on her couch with the phone cord stretched all the way from the dining room. "You found me at last." "Quite a way of putting it," Timmie had to agree. Having tossed the good clothes she'd donned for the interviews the minute she'd hit the door, she now reclined in T-shirt and jeans. She ached like a sore tooth, her scalp itched, and she was tired and as crabby as hell after spending the day talking to those relatives. "Conrad, this is important. Where's the printout I gave you?" "Right here, of course. I've been poring over it like the Dead Sea Scrolls, seeking truth and inspiration." "Seek this. Somebody ran me off the road on the way home from our little visit to get hold of that list.
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