demanded Avram, as he held the cell phone to his ear, pacing furiously back and forth in the living room of his townhouse in Boston. “Nothing,” said Frank Martino. “She already knew the basic facts.” “Like what?” he snarled. “Public record stuff, like the listing price and the amount Holiday offered. I think she was wondering how your brother’s death affected the sale,” said Frank, quickly adding, “but don’t worry! I told her that you had full authority to accept the offer. Oh, I told her it was an exclusive listing, too,” said Frank. You didn’t need to tell her anything, you fool, thought Avram. “What else?” “That’s all. Oh, yeah, she wanted to know how you got my name, but I told her I didn’t know. Really, that was it! She was only here five minutes and she was gone. I just thought you should know.” “All right. Thank you for calling to tell me. Listen, why is this deal taking so long, Frank?” asked Avram. “Holiday Cruise Line is a big outfit,”
