The following day, Mr. Rupert Youngblood gained more notoriety, appearing on a national television morning show. Neither Betsy nor I saw the broadcast but Quinn and Martha had viewed the showing. In their opinion, Youngblood was a joke. He admitted scads of people, as he put it, were seeking his help.
"The jerk acted drunk with his instant fame. He has an ego like the Goodyear blimp," was Quinn's assessment. While Howie hadn't viewed the show, he was incensed at the man's attitude as described by Martha.
"How could he publicize a gift like that, if he actually possessed any ability?"
"I'll bet he's a fraud," I said. "Let him prove it if he has any gift."
"Maybe we should pay him a visit," Howie mumbled, still riled.
The four of us unanimously disagreed. It wasn't our turn to pin the tail on the donkey. Ample levels of government were available to pursue the matter. But Howie wouldn't let it go. The next day, Ethel Reagan reported in her Boston paper on a personal interview with Youngblood. She was unable to pin him down on the cases of ours she'd documented earlier but he practically admitted he was personally responsible for all them and more. When asked why he now went public with his so-called gift, he replied he was establishing a business to locate missing children. He hastily denied his endeavors were for profit, but tossed in a caveat of "possible help with expenses." This statement further incensed Howie.
"I want to stop him before he screws up a real missing person case by sending the police off on a snipe hunt," he snarled. While none of us opted for involvement, Howie's insistence was the first time he hadn't acted like a tethered toddler. Before, if we'd told him to come to work dressed as a clown, he'd only have asked if we wanted a red nose.
"How would we do it?" Quinn asked. "We'd need a time and location. We can't go back to the kidnapping or the recovery. Too much time has passed."
"You guys will think of something," Howie said, passing back the buck as usual.
I talked it over with both Daniel Brennan and Merrill Cooms. Both felt we should keep our hands off the matter. It was a dilemma. Finally, Howie reluctantly agreed to wait a couple of days and see how the situation played out.
Yet another problem surfaced later the same day. Brennan posted a call-me notice on our web site, his only means of contacting us from his end. I telephoned him immediately.
"You guys have always been right on money, haven't you?" he asked.