A woman answered, simply repeating the phone number I had just dialed. “This is Ellie. I need to set up a meeting with Richter. I’ve recorded some evidence.” “Hold, please.” When the woman returned after a couple of minutes, she said, “You will be contacted at this number at eight tonight.” That evening, time crawled by. I couldn’t concentrate on my homework. Some of my teachers had asked me if there was anything I wanted to talk about. I just played dumb, shook my head and said I had been really busy. That I promised to concentrate from then on. Finally, I gave up and went into the living room to watch an old rerun of Star Trek with my parents. “Damn it, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a magician,” Matt said, settling down in his recliner. I saw him slip a Snickers bar out of his shirt pocket. Laurel caught him. “I thought your doctor told you to stay away from that junk! You know what candy does to your triglycerides!” She had finally persuaded Matt to see his cardiologist, and he had come home with a long list of foods he wasn’t supposed to eat.
