AFTER DROPPING OFF Helen’s coffee and cinnamon roll and promising to have a nice dinner ready for her at the Rectory when she’s had enough for the day, I decide to pay a visit to Martin Maycord.
Now, I’ve suspected that Martin had money, between being a nationally renowned doctor and co-owning three rehab clinics with another doctor. But as I turn into the driveway at the address my GPS brought me to, I’m astonished at what I see.
The house is about as big as the Myer Mansion, only newer. The front lawn is huge and well-manicured, and I’m sure the backyard is even larger. Possibly, from the looks of the place, it sports a pool and tennis court.
“I guess there’s a lot of money in saving lives,” I mutter. “If only there were more in saving souls.”
The words have no sooner left my mouth
