’ ‘Eh, not right now,’ Master said. ‘Unless it’ll keep you from asking painful questions.’ ‘Painful questions?’ I responded automatica...ly. ‘Like the ones that remind me that my parents like Anne and Kelly’s cooking more than they do me.’ He replied, as he absentmindedly tensed his muscles and squeezed me. ‘Master, you’re hurting me,’ I cried. He immediately relaxed his grip on me, letting me wriggle out of it. I had no intention of letting myself get squeezed like that again. Once I had. ‘BUT!’ he shouted, even louder, and they quieted down. ‘But I DO remember HER name. Her name matched her reputation. She was Wendy Warmcox.’ Jane’s ears perked up at that now-familiar name. ‘Bullshit!’ one of the hecklers yelled. ‘What kind of name is Warmcox? No woman has a name like that!’ ‘Excuse me,’ Jane Bond said. ‘Did you say Wendy Warmcox?’ ‘Yeah, what’s it to you?’ the story-teller, by now tiring of all the heckling, challenged her. Jane reached in her purse and pulled out the little. More

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