Sam and James: A Test of Will

By AA Freda

Sam and James A Test of Will is the continuing story of Sam and James. It is the third of a series. The first was the award winning A Police Action and the second was the highly acclaimed Sam and James The Missing Teen. The action takes place some seven years later when the couple is married and have a family. They have a successful business and have a vast ranch in Colorado.

The action starts out with a murder on the streets of Washington DC. Through their friendship with the parents of the victim they are dragged in to try and solve who killed the young man. The crime gets Sam and James involved in a conspiracy, which threatens to drag the pair down and may cost them all of that they have achieved. More importantly it reveals and exposes all of the couples hidden secrets.

The caper tests all of their resolve and puts into question their will to see the mystery to the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532082887

AA Freda

Among his works are award winners Goodbye Rudy Kazoody, A Police Action, and Sam and James A Test of Will. This latest work, Qisas is the fourth in the Sam and James series. As well as writing, AA enjoys racing thoroughbred horses. Among his other hobbies are hiking and shooting pool. AA lives in Easton, Connecticut a suburb of New York City, which allows him to stay in touch with the pulse of world affairs.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Fuse

"N ine one one, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher asks at 2:53 on a cool May morning.

A desperate voice responds, My boyfriend called and told me he’d be home in fifteen minutes! That was more than two hours ago, and he’s still not home.

Maybe he got delayed, the calm operator says.

No, he was just waiting for a cab to pick him up, the woman continues. He said he would just finish his beer and then come straight home.

Maybe your boyfriend changed his mind and decided to stay a little longer, the operator says, stifling a yawn. You know, have another beer with the guys.

I’ve called the bar several times and there’s no answer; the place must be closed! Please, can you call the police? the caller pleads while crying into the phone.

What is your boyfriend’s name? the dispatcher asks.

Mark Abrams.

And what is the name of the bar he called from?

Patrick’s Pub.

"What is your name and address?" The voice on the phone no longer sounds bored.

Maryann Dowd. I live at One Twenty, 5th Street Northwest, Apartment 5J.

I’ll have someone head to the bar and look in on your boyfriend.

Maryann puts the receiver down and falls back on the bed. Please, Mark, please be all right.

Ten minutes later, she hears a knock at the door.

Maryann jumps out of bed, puts on a robe, and runs to the door. Who is it?

It’s the police, is the response.

Thank God! Maryann utters under her voice, and opens the door to see two plainclothes detectives standing at the doorway.

I’m Detective Logan, and this is my partner Detective Nowitsky. We’re answering the call you made earlier. Is it OK if we come in?

Yes, of course, Maryann says, opening the door wider and standing aside to let the detectives in. Please have a seat, she adds, and motions to the couch.

After sitting, Nowitsky takes out his pad and writes on the first blank page, ‘Maryann Dowd, May, 12, 1978’.

You’ve reported your boyfriend missing, Logan begins.

Yes, he called me from the bar and said he was just finishing up his beer. Maryann’s lips are quivering. He said he’d be home in fifteen minutes. It’s not like him to not let me know where he is.

What is your boyfriend’s name? Logan asks.

Mark Abrams.

Logan and Nowitsky look at each other.

I’m afraid we have some bad news, Miss Dowd, Nowitsky says. A man was shot and killed about an hour ago, not too far from here. We believe that man was your boyfriend.

Maryann’s head begins spinning and her body weakens as she tries to summon the strength to keep from passing out. Surely, I must have heard wrong! Did he just say that Mark may have been killed?

This must be a mistake … she manages to utter.

There was a wallet found with the victim, Logan tells her. There was a driver’s license in the wallet that had his name and picture. We’re certain it’s your boyfriend. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this.

Tears are streaming down Maryann’s face. Oh God, no—please, it can’t be, she whispers and falls into a nearby chair.

Can I get you a glass of water? Logan asks.

Unable to speak any longer, Maryann shakes her head no. The detectives wait silently as she continues crying. They know from experience not to stop her at this point. After a few minutes, the wailing begins to subside.

What happened? Maryann asks, now hiccupping uncontrollably.

We don’t know, Logan replies, reaching for the box of tissues that is on the side table and handing the box to Maryann. It’s very early in the investigation. Someone called and reported a shooting. Your boyfriend was found at the scene. Mr. Abrams was pronounced dead at the hospital.

What was your relationship with Mr. Abrams? Nowitsky asks. You say he was your boyfriend?

Maryann pulls out a handful of tissues and wipes her eyes. Yes! We’ve been living together for about a year now.

Does Mr. Abrams have family? Nowitsky asks.

Mark’s mother and father live in Colorado. Maryann shakes her head, shudders, and starts crying again. Oh, God, I still can’t believe this is true. She collects herself once more. Mark’s father is a federal judge; Merrill Abrams is his name. I don’t really know his parents that well—I only met them a couple of times when his folks came to Washington. Mark has no brothers or sisters. His family is well off, and Mark has never worried about money. Mark only worked and took on a job when his parents got on his case. He gets a check every month from a trust fund his grandfather set up for him.

Tell us about tonight, Logan urges her. What did your boyfriend do tonight?

Mark went to a meeting—it was an interview for a possible job. A political job with the Democratic Party. Something that had to do with an overseas position. Mark didn’t really tell me much about the job. His friend, Joe Leib, set up the interview. The vice president was supposed to be there. I don’t know where the meeting took place. Mark called me from the bar to tell me that he’d gotten the position. Mark was all excited, and he said he was going to have a few beers to celebrate, then come home. After about an hour, Mark called me to let me know that he was on his way home.

Maryann goes quiet and stares blankly at Logan. What happened? Who would want to hurt Mark? He had no enemies. Mark was the kindest, sweetest man—everybody liked him.

We don’t know what happened, Logan replies. The early indication is that it may have been a botched robbery. A stickup gone bad.

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Four weeks later, James Coppi is sitting in the dining room at his ranch just outside of Colorado Springs, sipping his early morning coffee and reading the paper.

You’re up early, his wife, Sam, remarks as she comes walking in.

I want to get in a workout in the gym before I leave for the office, he replies. How’s baby Christopher?

I just breast fed him, Sam says, sitting down next to him at the long table. "Surely you’ve got a little time for me today. You’ve spent more time with Molly than you have with me, this past week."

Well, if you came to work with me every day like our daughter does, you’d get to spend time with me, too, James responds.

Helen the secretary tells me that she is actually running the show at the office. Just four years old and Molly is already calling the shots, bossing everybody around. I think it’s because she’s a redhead. Redheads live in a different world than most humans.

James smiles at Sam. Molly’s red hair has nothing to do with her bossiness. Molly takes after her mother. She loves ordering everyone around—just like you do.

What do you mean? Sam’s voice rises a bit. I don’t boss anyone around! Whenever I come to the office, I’m quiet and deferential. I never interfere with anything that you say or do.

James gives his wife a sly look. That’s because you’re a lot more cunning than Molly. You’ve learned that you only have to boss one person around … and that’s me. You aim all your directions at me, and then let me do all the dirty work. Molly hasn’t learned that technique yet at her young age. By the way—speaking of Molly, where is she? I can’t believe Molly isn’t here, standing on my toes and demanding hot chocolate.

I told Gilda to keep Molly in her room so that we wouldn’t be interrupted.

The butler, Billingsley, walks in. Would you like some breakfast, Mrs. Coppi? Billingsley asks as he pours James a cup of coffee.

No, Mr. Billingsley, I’ll have just the coffee, Sam responds.

Billingsley looks at James. Has Mr. Coppi decided what he wants for breakfast?

Yes, Mr. Billingsley. I’ll have a bowl of oatmeal and some rye toast, please.

After the butler leaves, Sam says to James, I can’t believe our luck in finding the Billingsleys. I just love a British accent—and they just became available one week ago.

James leans over to Sam and whispers. Why do we need the Billingsleys? We have Gilda, Guadalupe, and Maria. How can we keep so many people busy? What do the Billingsleys do around here, anyway?

"Of course we need the Billingsleys, Sam says. James, you have no clue what it takes to run a large home! Simon Billingsley is the steward and butler; he runs the household staff. His wife, Marion, is the cook and housekeeper. Gilda is a maid and takes care of Molly, Michael, and Christopher. Guadalupe and Maria are also maids and help around the house."

James places his hand to his chin.

And what is your job around here? he asks. With all these people doing the work, just what exactly is your role?

Sam gives him a broad smile. My role is to make sure you’re happy. That’s quite a task, don’t you agree?

James lifts up his coffee cup and salutes her. And, you do that job magnificently. Is it my imagination, or do the Billingsleys look like the perfect English house servants? He’s tall, skinny, gray-haired, and refined. His wife is gray-haired and matronly.

You know, I think you’re right, Sam says. I hadn’t really noticed. She cocks her head to one side and takes a sip of her coffee. Can we talk about my schedule today?

I’d rather talk about your equestrian tournament, James responds. Pablo said you did great; you won a trophy.

Third place, Sam answers, looking disappointed. I could have won first place if Skipper hadn’t balked at the wall again. I don’t know what I’m going to do at the Florida tournament in two weeks. The Olympic committee is going to be there, observing. I would love to make the Olympic team.

Can’t you teach him how to make that particular jump? James asks. The other jumps appear much more difficult. Why does the wall stop him?

Pablo thinks the reason Skipper balks is because he can’t see the other side and gets frightened. We’ve tried everything, but that wall always gives him trouble.

Why don’t you try a different horse? How about Peggy? She’s a good jumper.

Peggy is young and inconsistent, Sam responds, sipping her coffee. Peggy has problems with the triple jump, and always knocks down that last bar. It’s either Skipper, or I lose. Sam takes another sip and looks at him. "You are coming to my Florida tournament, aren’t you?"

Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Billingsley comes in. I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Coppi, the butler says, but Jeff is at the door and would like a word with you. He says it’s important.

Please send him right in, Mr. Billingsley, James replies, wondering what the ranch boss has on his mind.

I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast, boss, Jeff says to James, his cowboy hat in his hand. Good morning, ma’am, he adds, acknowledging Sam, and turns back to James. I just want to make sure I’ve got your orders correct before I order all the fencing. You did say you wanted all the seven thousand acres fenced in—is that right?

Yes, Jeff: a wooden fence, and then painted white.

That’s a lot of wood, boss; it’ll cost a small fortune, Jeff says. We’d be far better off with wire. We should just use the wood on the paddocks.

All right, Jeff—whatever you say. I’d like the job finished as soon as possible. I don’t want the cattle ranchers thinking that this is still public property.

Yes, sir. I’ll get on it right away. Jeff turns to Sam again. I’m sorry to have interrupted your breakfast, ma’am.

Speaking of stereotypical looks, Sam says after Jeff leaves, there’s no mistaking Jeff is a cowboy. Tall, lanky, with a sun-drenched face.

Yes, I agree, James responds. Jeff is a good man and a hard worker. We’re going to need him, what with the extra land that we recently purchased.

I still don’t know why you had to buy the seven thousand acres, Sam says. What are we going to do with all this land? We now have well over nine thousand acres.

I told you, Sam: the government just put this land up for sale, James explains. There’s water that comes from that new land onto ours. If someone else bought the property, they could’ve restricted our water supply.

I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire mountain, Sam laughs. "Doesn’t the stream come down the mountain?"

James gives her a big smile. When the mountain comes up for sale, I’ll buy that too.

What about that castle in France, near Lyon? Sam continues her reproach. Why did you have to buy that property? When are we ever going to live there?

James sits back in his chair and places his napkin on the table. I thought we were going to have a nice breakfast, just the two of us—but all you’ve accomplished so far is getting me annoyed. We already discussed the house in France. With so many of our offices overseas, I’ve been spending more and more time on business in Europe. I don’t like being away from you guys that long. We’ll go there during the summer months. The entire household can come; that way I can take care of business and spend time with my family, too. You can compete in the international jumping tournaments to keep busy. May we move on to other issues, please? What did you want to talk to me about, before we got sidetracked by all your irritating complaints?

James, I know you’re busy today, but I need you for two matters during the day, Sam says. She speaks timidly; she had not wanted to start their conversation on a sour note this morning. She didn’t want him to be in a bad mood.

"Two? I know of only one: Matteo and Enrico coming in to discuss their proposal of having a fashion clothing line that features you. What else is on your mind? Once again, he can feel himself becoming annoyed with her. Sam, you know I have a very busy schedule today, what with the board of directors meeting and all. Why would you schedule more appointments?"

I know, James, Sam says anxiously, and gives him the pleading look that she gives him when she really needs to get her way. "I’m sorry to spring this on you at the last minute. Judith Abrams called, and the poor woman sounded so sad and upset. Her son Mark was murdered four weeks ago, and they have no clue who killed him. Judith begged me for a meeting with you—I didn’t know what to say, but I couldn’t turn her down."

When she doesn’t get a response, Sam continues. James, remember: Judith was the one who spoke to me constantly when Molly had the croup. You were so busy traveling, back then, I couldn’t talk to you. Without her and Kathy, I don’t know how I could have gotten through that ordeal. I was so freaked out about Molly’s cough. Judith came over regularly and kept me company. Judith and her husband Merrill are coming at noon. Please, just listen to what they have to say.

All right, I’ll meet with them—but I hope the Abramses are not under the impression that we can do the investigation … James says with a growl, and Sam recognizes that his comment is meant to warn her. You know our companies don’t handle that type of work any longer.

Their heads turn as they hear a shouting in the hallway. Let me go! a little girl yells out.

You can’t go in there! an older lady cries out.

Suddenly, their daughter Molly comes running into the room. Daddy! she shouts, and runs over to hang onto his leg.

I’m sorry, Mr. Coppi, Gilda tells him when she gets into the room. Molly ran out of her room before I could stop her.

James picks Molly up and places her on his lap. That’s all right, Gilda. She can stay; I’ll take it from here.

Molly gives Gilda a nasty look. The maid sneers back at her. Molly smiles cunningly and buries her head in her dad’s chest. Gilda shakes her head and leaves the room. The victorious Molly lifts her head and smiles at her dad.

Am I coming to work with you today, Daddy?

Not today, dear. Daddy has a lot of meetings.

Sam frowns at James and shakes her head. You spoil her so much.

"I spoil all my women," James smiles at his wife.

Mrs. Billingsley walks in and places the bowl of oatmeal and the plate of toast in front of him. Will there be anything else, sir?

Not right now, thank you, Mrs. Billingsley, James answers. Come on, Molly, get a spoon and help me eat the cereal.

I’m not hungry, Molly tells him.

Well, if you’re not going to eat, you can get off my lap and go back to your room.

OK, I’ll have a piece of toast. Molly reaches over and grabs a slice.

A baby shouts from the hallway, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Michael, naked except for the diaper he’s wearing, comes running into the room and races to grab hold of James. Then he reaches up and tries to climb into his father’s lap. Molly tries to shove the baby’s head back down. There’s no room! Molly yells at him.

There’s plenty of room, James tells Molly. I’ll put him on my other knee.

Daddy, he smells. He pooped, Molly whispers.

James looks at Sam, who jumps up to look into Michael’s diaper. She’s lying; he didn’t poop.

James picks up Michael and puts him on his lap. Michael reaches over to grab a piece of toast. Molly slaps Michael across the face. That’s Daddy’s toast! she yells. Michael immediately starts crying.

Sam jumps up and grabs Molly.

That’s it, young lady. I’ve had enough! You need some quiet time. Sam puts a chair in the corner and sits Molly down, facing the wall. You stay there until I tell you to move. You sit there and look at that wall and think about what you just did to your brother.

Sam walks over and takes the baby, who is still crying, from James. I’ll take him to Gilda.

When Sam comes back, she takes her seat next to James. Can I get up now? Molly asks from the corner.

I said no talking! Sam yells back.

How come you didn’t just whack her on the behind, like you usually do? James whispers to Sam.

My constantly slapping her butt may be sending her the wrong signals, Sam whispers back. Molly may be learning that hitting solves her problems. I’m trying a different punishing method.

You might be right; you are kind of quick with your hands. James grins shrewdly.

Sam reaches over and gives James a slap on the arm. I am not!

James looks at his arm and back up at Sam. Well, I think the jury is still out on that issue.

Oh my God, I didn’t even realize that I was slapping you, Sam says, and drops her eyes contritely. James gets up and takes Molly into his arms. Come on, Molly, let’s go to the gym and get a workout.

As they walk toward the door, Molly gives her mom a nasty look.

Who are you giving that dirty look to? Sam cries out.

Let’s run before Mommy catches us, he shouts, and runs out of the room with the laughing child in his arms.

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Sam walks into James’s office at noon. I can’t believe you made Kathy come into work. She just had a baby two weeks ago. Kathy, James’s assistant, has been Sam’s best friend since childhood, and she’s very protective of her.

Well, you had Christopher three months ago, and you’re working.

That’s different. I didn’t have as rough a pregnancy as Kathy did. She was on bed rest for three months, if you remember.

Kathy comes walking into the office with a cup of coffee and puts it down on James’s desk in front of Sam. Would you like a cup? Kathy asks James.

No, I’m good, he replies. Sit a minute, Kathy. Sam and I were just talking about you.

How are you feeling? James asks her after she takes a seat. Sam feels that I brought you into work too soon. Are you doing OK?

I’m fine. It feels good to get out of the house.

Who’s taking care of the baby? Sam asks her.

Myron took the day off of work to be with her.

Would you like to come over this weekend? Sam asks. We can go horseback riding and check out James’s new property.

James looks over at Sam. Kathy isn’t well enough to come to work, but she’s well enough to go horseback riding with you this weekend?

That’s different, Sam retorts, and gives him a shrewd smile. This is work—horseback riding is play.

I’m fine, you guys, Kathy says. Please stop fussing over me. James, I’ll be back to work full-time in two weeks. I just have to hire someone to take care of Marlene. Thanks for giving me all the time off; I know it wasn’t easy on you.

Not a problem at all. I’m just glad it all worked out so well. We were so worried about you, especially since you miscarried the last time.

I was worried, too. The three months of bed rest really helped. I’m so thankful for Myron: my hubby was wonderful and patient throughout the ordeal. Speaking of Myron, I have another favor to ask of you, guys.

Anything for you, Kathy, James answers. What is it?

I’m a little embarrassed to bring this up, Kathy says, and blushes. You’ve done so much for me already.

Come on, Kathy, spit it out, he urges her.

Maxwell, our in-house legal counsel, is looking to hire another attorney to assist him. I was wondering if you could speak to Maxwell about hiring my husband, Myron. If I’m out of order and asking for too much, please let me know. You’ve already done so much for me.

What happened to Myron’s own practice? Sam asks.

It’s not working out, Kathy says. "Myron is not bringing in any money. We live on my salary alone, and sometimes we need to take money from our savings to put into the practice.

It’s a constant drain on our resources, Kathy adds, and shrugs. We can’t do it any longer; we’re running out of money. Myron needs to close up and call it quits. Myron gave the practice his all, but now he needs to move on. Please, guys—if I’m out of line, tell me so. You don’t have to hire him.

James waves his hand dismissively. Don’t be ridiculous. Tell Maxwell to put him on the payroll whenever Myron is ready to start.

Thank you, Kathy says as she stands. As always, you guys have come through for me.

What happened to Myron’s practice? Sam asks James after Kathy leaves. I thought he was a good lawyer. I can’t believe Kathy never mentioned this to me until today.

Maybe Kathy was embarrassed to tell you. Our attorney, Michael Barrett, says he is a good lawyer—but a lousy businessman. Myron doesn’t have the good people skills that are required for dealing with clients. Working in-house will be a good change for Myron—he can concentrate on the law and not worry about running his own firm.

What time are the Abramses coming? James asks, changing the subject.

What time is it now?

James looks at his watch. Twenty after twelve, and I still haven’t accomplished anything!

They should be here soon, Sam tells him. I told them to come between twelve and twelve-thirty. The buzzer goes off the moment Sam finishes her statement.

Judith and Merrill Abrams are in the reception area, Kathy announces.

Thank you, Kathy. Please get Mr. and Mrs. Abrams and escort them into my office.

CHAPTER 2

A Bourgeoning Wind

K athy opens the door and ushers in the Abramses. James jumps up from his chair to greet the couple.

Judith, Merrill, thank you for coming, James says when he goes over to them. He puts his arms around Judith. I’m so sorry for your loss, and I’m sorry that I missed Mark’s funeral—I was in the Congo at the time and couldn’t get out.

We fully understand, James, Judith replies. Samantha told us why you couldn’t make it when she came to the funeral. Judith walks over to Sam to give her a hug. It’s nice to see you again, Samantha. Thanks for meeting with us with such short notice. I know you’re both very busy.

Please have a seat, James says, and motions to the chairs.

May I get you coffee or some water? Kathy calls from the doorway.

No, I believe we’re fine, thanks, Judith calls back.

That’ll be all, Kathy, James tells her, and Kathy closes the door. There’s a period of silence and awkwardness as the four sit motionless, none knowing quite what to say. Finally, James speaks.

I’m still in shock. What happened to Mark? he says.

The police say it was a botched robbery attempt, Merrill responds. James says nothing for a moment, waiting for further clarification.

You don’t agree? James asks when Merrill goes no further.

What kind of robbery attempt results in a man being shot four times in the back? Merrill asks, visibly shaken. Nothing was taken from Mark. In all my years of law and being a judge, I’ve never encountered such a botched robbery. Who shoots a man to rob him and then doesn’t bend down to take his wallet?

Yes, Merrill—I see your point, James comments. Have you shared your feelings with the police? What do they say?

The police are courteous, for the most part, but I believe they’re just trying to pacify us, Merrill says. James, I don’t trust the police. They’re not taking anything we say seriously. The police are ready to dismiss the case and move on.

I see, James says. I beg your pardon, Merrill, Judith, but how can I be of help? To be very honest with you, I don’t really understand why you asked for this meeting. Shouldn’t you be taking your concerns to someone at police headquarters? I don’t have any sway with the police in Washington. Merrill, you’re a judge—you’d have more pull than I would.

We want to hire you to take on the case, James, Merrill tells him.

James leans back in his chair. I see. James clears his throat. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Merrill, but my firm doesn’t handle this type of case. We’re not equipped for this sort of investigative work. You’d be far better off with a gumshoe who specializes in that particular field.

James, I’ve done my research, Merrill persists, and I’ve asked around. To a man, everyone says there’s no one better than you. Once you get your teeth into a problem, you don’t let go until you find a solution. Every one I’ve spoken to says that if James Coppi can’t solve this mystery, no one can.

I’m deeply flattered, Merrill, but I don’t agree. Even I have limitations. I haven’t done fieldwork in years. Besides, the billing rates are so high at my firm that it would cost you a small fortune—with no guarantee of results. You could be wasting that fortune, only to end up right back where you began.

James, may I say something? Judith asks. James looks over at Judith, whose eyes are now filled with unshed tears. Judith’s beauty is still evident, even with her advanced years. Her classical, chiseled face has no wrinkles whatsoever. The blue eyes still sparkle as they did in her youth. The long, gray-peppered hair flows gently onto her shoulders.

"James, I can tell by your tone that you are an extremely honest man. Most people would take our money and not give the matter a second thought.

Mark was our only son—our only child, she continues. Merrill and I have plenty of money. If Mark were alive, he would have inherited it all. There’s no one else to leave our legacy to. I’m ill with cancer, and the doctors don’t give me much time to live. Before I die, I would like to know who killed my son. I’m a good judge of character, and I agree with my husband. If you can’t solve this case, nobody can. Please: I’m begging you. Please try to solve this mystery. Let me leave this world knowing what happened to my boy.

James looks at Judith, looks over at Merrill, and finally looks at Sam. He shakes his head and presses the buzzer on his desk. Kathy, please get McGill and Davis. Tell them to report to my office right away.

When McGill and Davis come into the office, James tells them to pull up chairs.

This is Judith and Merrill Abrams, he says, introducing the couple to the men. James turns to the Abramses. This is Charlie McGill, he says, pointing to one of the men. He’ll be heading the investigation. This other fellow is Rodney Davis. Mr. Davis worked at the CIA before he came to work for my firm. Mr. Davis knows all the hidden skeletons in Washington. James pauses for a moment. Gentlemen, we are going to investigate the murder of Mark Abrams, this lovely couple’s only son, he tells them. Charlie, draw up a contract and take it over to the Abramses’ house tomorrow for their signatures.

James stands up. Judith, Merrill—I believe our business here is concluded for today. There’s no need to take up any more of your time. We’ll get working on this investigation right away. James walks to the other side of the desk to escort the Abramses out of his office. Before they leave, Judith walks up to James and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Thank you, Judith says, and gives him a motherly smile. "James, you can make a dying woman very happy by solving this for