Chapter 32

It didn’t occur to Martin until just that moment that his mother might be every bit as embarrassed as he was at being caught in the middle of a possible romantic liaison. He noticed that her hair was freshly done, her make-up applied perfectly and her outfit brand new. He looked at his mother and smiled ackwardly. “Hi, Mom. I’m just having dinner with some friends. What are you doing here?”

Jean looked around nervously, peaked around Martin and peered up at him. “Is that Sharla?” she asked in a stage whisper. Martin sighed and nodded, and Jean asked, “Who is the other woman?” Martin leaned closer to his mother and answered her, slightly annoyed, “That’s Shirley Campbell. She works with me at The Sentinel.”

Jean stood up. “Will you introduce them to me?” she asked timidly. At that moment, Martin felt something for his mother he didn't recognize right away - some affection. He rolled his eyes at her. “Of course I’ll introduce you, Mother. Do you think I'm rude?” He put his hand on her shoulder and walked her over to the table where Shirley and Sharla were waiting expectantly.

“Mother, I would like to introduce you to two of the best people I know.” He held his hand out to Shirley and said, “This is Shirley Campbell.” Jean moved quickly around the table to face Shirley and held out her hand. “So nice to meet you. I’m Jean Lundeen.” Shirley shook Jean’s hand and smiled at her.

“And this is Sharla Whitefeather,” Martin said, pulling her slightly away from Shirley. Jean gently shook off Martin's hand, turned to Sharla and looked at her face intently. No one said anything for a few moments, and then Jean moved around the table. Jean pulled the empty chair next to Sharla, sat down and took her hands. “You dear girl, I am so happy to finally meet you.” Jean pulled Sharla into an ackward hug and held her tightly. Sharla looked up at Martin over Jean’s shoulder and gave him a little smile. She patted Jean’s back a little, pulled away and took her hands. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Lundeen.” She gave Jean a big smile. “Are you here for dinner? Do you want to join us?”

Martin shook his head violently, but before he could verbally protest, Jean said, “Oh no, I have a date with...Don.” She gave a thrilled little shudder, wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Where is he? He said I should get here at 8:00 p.m.”

As if on cue, the room suddenly filled with Dean Martin singing “That’s Amore”, and Don came out into the dining area, sans apron, with a bouquet of flowers. He walked directly over to Jean, as if no one else was in the room, bent dow so that his face was right next to hers and whispered into her ear, “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Jean.” She giggled again, and seemed to forget that her grown son was in the room with his two friends. “Oh Don, you are just so sweet. These flowers are beautiful,” she said in a low, almost sexy voice, looking up into his eyes. Martin couldn’t have been more uncomfortable or embarrased as he watched Don take Jean's hand and walk away with her, arm in arm, over to a table in the back corner of the dark restaurant.

Martin watched them, shook his head and then saw that Sharla and Shirley were looking at him with very amused looks on their faces. “Well, Martin, should we get back to work?”

+ + +

Another hour passed and another pitcher of beer was consumed by Martin and Shirley as they discussed with Sharla different rationale for getting the truth out about Talbot and arguing a bit whether it was worth exposing him at all. "He's retiring, he'll be gone in two months, what's the point in damaging the credibility of the entire Burnett County educational system?" Martin asked and instantly regretted it. Sharla shook her head angrily at him, and Shirley punched him in the arm. "I don't believe you, Martin. You're drinking the Clark Grayson Koolaid." He apologized. "I know, I know, we have to make this right for all the people he hurt. But how are we going to do that?" Shirley answered him quietly, "We'll figure it out. I just want him to get what's coming to him." They seemed to be getting nowhere when Don and Jean suddenly appeared at the table. “So,” Don said, “Jean and I have been watching you and think you three need some fresh thinking.”

Sharla and Shirley looked up at them, pleased to have some help, but Martin frowned and snorted. “Fresh thinking…right.”

Jean sat down at the empty seat at the table, and Don pulled up another chair. “Martin, I filled your mother in over dinner on some of the details you've uncovered over the last few weeks." Jean nodded her head quickly as he talked. "We just had an idea or two that we'd like you to consider." Jean piped in, "From the looks of it, you didn't seem to be getting anywhere."

“You two haven't been knee deep in this stuff like we have. How can you possibly help?” Martin asked, somewhat offended and annoyed because he knew they were right.

“Well, maybe a little objectivity is in order,” he replied with a chuckle. “Come on, Jimmy Olson, give us five minutes. If what we have isn't helpful, we'll go back to our table in the back."

Martin looked from Don to Jean to Sharla to Shirley and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine, what are you thinking?"

Don and Jean looked at each other as if a bit surprised to be included so easily, and snuggled into each other, he putting his hand on her back and patting her. "Honey, you start."

Jean ignored Martin's look to the ceiling and launched in. "Well, from what Donnie tells me ('Donnie?' Martin thought), this Talbot person likes to do his business in secret and with young girls who won't fight back." Martin looked down from the ceiling and over at Sharla, who nodded back at him. "He can't be proud of what he does. He's probably afraid of getting caught. He doesn't pick fights with strong people, just people he thinks are weak." She sat back, satisfied with herself.

Martin looked at her expectantly. "And? What else?" He was ready to shoo them back to their table, when Don jumped in. "Hold on, Martin. Here's the point. It will probably scare the crap out of him if someone, especially someone in authority, called him on his behavior. He'd hate that more than losing his pension." Jean added, "And I bet he doesn't have a soul who'd defend him, so he probably wouldn't fight back."

The group all hung on Don's next words. "So, you need to change your focus. The issue isn't calling Talbot out on his misdeeds, the issue is doing in a way that gets Talbot what he's got coming with as little fallout as possible for the school district and for you personally. You need to bring the big guns in on this, Martin. You have to talk to Howe and Daniels, and get them to think it's their idea to expose Talbot." Martin squirmed in his seat. "What if they complain to Clark?" he whined. Jean was about to pounce on his lack of bravery. But Don cut in. "Martin, let me ask you a question, do you think Howe and Daniels are going to want anyone to know, especially Clark Grayson, the Editor of the Sentinel, that they've been covering this up for years?"

Shirley looked intently at Don and then over to Martin. "It's not just getting the job done, it's doing it in such a way that everyone looks like a hero except Talbot. Don and Jean are right, your next interviews have to be with Jeff Howe and Dayton Daniels. Do it at the same time, and be vague about the interview so they can't compare notes beforehand. You'll have to use your best acting skills to hide how much you really know."

When Martin filled Don and Jean in on Karen Howe being half Indian and probably one of Talbot’s victims, Jean gasped and Don drummed his fingers on the table and sat forward on his chair. “Do you think Jeff Howe knows about his wife and Talbot? Do you think she would have told him?”

The table was quiet considering the question. “If Jeff did know, how could he not do something about it?” Shirley asked. Then Sharla chimed in, “Especially since he is on the school board.”
Martin nodded. "How can that guy still have a job after everything he's done?"

The table was silent again until Jean said very quietly, “All I know is, if my husband was in a position to punish someone who had hurt me the way you think Frank Talbot hurt Karen Howe, I'd expect him to do it.”