It was unusual having nothing to do. Weekends were planned in advance, filled with chores and errands, but mid-week inactivity needed creativity to fill time. Quinn and Martha perpetually had their hands full with their baby and Betsy stayed home, content to have extra time with our expanding garden. When Martha did have a few free hours, she and my wife scoured every auction or antique shop for miles around, like two kids on a treasure hunt. I volunteered to mind the store, so to speak, at least for appearance's sake though there was little to do.
To kill some time I telephoned Ethel Reagan, ostensibly to thank her. She in return, expressed her thanks for, as she said, being appointed the resident authority on the Psychic Tipster. I asked her if she perceived any hint of threat.
"The G-men have been around trying to get information but that's all. I didn't give them the time of day, except to confirm what you told me on the record. Are there any more tidbits you can slip my way?" she asked.
I considered telling her the tipster was ill and out of service for a few days but common sense dictated that doing so might encourage someone to commit a crime in the tipster's absence. Instead, I made up a story that the tipster had been abducted as a child and therefore was using her psychic talents to help find kidnapped and missing children.
"Is that for print?"
"Yes, but it happened a long time ago."
"In Idaho?" she asked, like a hen pecking for scraps.
"No comment. That's it for tidbits, but don't let down your guard. This is off the record but someone else thought to be a possible lead to the tipster was threatened recently. The responsible party remains at large."
Betsy and I had discussed my contacting After as suggested by Dan Brennan. We finally decided the pros out weighted the cons and I should make the call. I ran it by Quinn and Martha, both of whom kicked the decision back to me.
Brennan's admonition that our tip line might be compromised was beyond being simply bothersome. If we couldn't convey our tips on a secure basis, we couldn't operate very long without discovery. We could always go back to throw away phones but even those were suspect when our pursuer was a high level government agency. Howie's temporary absence eliminated the problem, at least for now; no trips back to a crime scene resulted in no tips to convey.
I took a deep breath and called After on a throw away phone. I didn't know the names of anyone at organization so I asked for the person in charge of investigations. My call was forwarded to a female with a mature sounding voice.