6. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. "I've counted ten coffins so far. My son is going to build a spaceship to Mars someday right in this room. They had refused. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. Father— dead.
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