Elena plopped down next to Martin, rubbed her sore butt, and said, "You don't have ** for medical insurance, I can't afford to take you to a real clinic. Bill used to live on this street, he never charged us for seeing him.",Martin was just about to ask a question, then he remembered that this house belonged to James Carter. "Your uncle died eight years ago," he said, "from eating the wrong flour.",Martin said nonchalantly, "Don't worry, we'll figure something out."。