the same when she finds out about Elinor Peabody. Particularly since Annabel was Uncle Stephen’s administrative assistant when he was married to Aunt Alice.”
“Sounds like
Dynasty
” Sandy drawled.
“Uncle Stephen has the morals of a reptile. So how are we going to con Annabel?”
Sandy looked blank for a moment. “Give me a minute. It’ll come to me.”
“Door-to-door salesmen?” Jane suggested. “Religious fanatics?”
He shook his head reprovingly. “We wouldn’t even get in the door. What about environmental activists? Save the dolphins and that sort of thing.”
“Uncle Stephen probably eats dolphins for breakfast. We need something more esoteric.”
“Loons?” Sandy suggested.
“Loons,” she echoed. “I like it. They have a summer place in Maine on a lake with loons. That should appeal to Annabel enough at least to let us in. Once we do that, it’s up to you to get the information out of her.”
“Why up to me?”
“You’re the professional crook around here,” she said. “Aren’t you?”
For some reason Jimmy the Stoolie alias Sandy looked abashed. “So I am,” he said with the air of one making a discovery. “So I am.”
Chapter Eight
I t was just after one when Jane’s rented Escort pulled up in front of the Tremaine’s home on Cleveland Lane in the heart of old Princeton. Jane sat behind the wheel for a long moment, admiring the stately grace of the huge old house, with its ancient boxwoods, its perfect landscaping, its beautiful flagstoned walkway up to the wide front door. When she looked more closely, though, she saw signs of decay that she hadn’t noticed in her earlier visit. The boxwoods needed trimming, the red paint on the front door was faded and just beginning to peel, the dead leaves of autumn lay scattered on a lawn that hadn’t been cut. The signs weren’t obvious, just the subtle warning signals that all was not well with the Tremaine finances.
“Nice place,” Sandy said in a neutral tone of voice. Jane shrugged. “I grew up in a house very much like this one. A little smaller, a little more haphazard looking, but the same general idea.”
“Was your father a captain of industry like Tremaine?” “Not exactly. My parents were college professors.” “I didn’t think even Princeton paid its professors well enough to afford this kind of life-style.”
“Princeton doesn’t.” Jane stared out the window, trying to fight the old sense of inadequacy that was settling down around her. “They came from an older class of moneyed educators. They inherited enough to enable them to indulge themselves in teaching. My parents were so impractical they couldn’t have survived if they had to do anything as simple as follow a budget and live on their salaries.”
“Your brother didn’t sound very practical, either.”
“He wasn’t. But I am,” she added with a trace of defiance. “Sensible Jane.” The plain was left unspoken, but she knew he had to be thinking it.”
“How’d you get along with your parents?”
“Sandy, they’ve been dead for more than seven years now. They were killed in a plane crash when they were on their way to a conference. It’s not the issue right now.”
“Maybe,” he said, “maybe not.”
Jane allowed herself a weary sigh, answering him anyway. “I got along with them about as well as I got along with Richard. In other words, they basically ignored my existence.”
“Why?”
“Richard was enough of a challenge for them. He was extremely gifted, even from the start. He could read by the time he was three, solve algebraic equations when he was five, balance mother’s checkbook when he was eight, which was the most impressive feat of all. In comparison I was just a normal little girl, walking when I should, talking when I should, playing with dolls and reading Nancy Drew books. My parents must have thought I was a changeling.”
Sandy just looked at her. “What about your sister? Was she one of the
“Sounds like
Dynasty
” Sandy drawled.
“Uncle Stephen has the morals of a reptile. So how are we going to con Annabel?”
Sandy looked blank for a moment. “Give me a minute. It’ll come to me.”
“Door-to-door salesmen?” Jane suggested. “Religious fanatics?”
He shook his head reprovingly. “We wouldn’t even get in the door. What about environmental activists? Save the dolphins and that sort of thing.”
“Uncle Stephen probably eats dolphins for breakfast. We need something more esoteric.”
“Loons?” Sandy suggested.
“Loons,” she echoed. “I like it. They have a summer place in Maine on a lake with loons. That should appeal to Annabel enough at least to let us in. Once we do that, it’s up to you to get the information out of her.”
“Why up to me?”
“You’re the professional crook around here,” she said. “Aren’t you?”
For some reason Jimmy the Stoolie alias Sandy looked abashed. “So I am,” he said with the air of one making a discovery. “So I am.”
Chapter Eight
I t was just after one when Jane’s rented Escort pulled up in front of the Tremaine’s home on Cleveland Lane in the heart of old Princeton. Jane sat behind the wheel for a long moment, admiring the stately grace of the huge old house, with its ancient boxwoods, its perfect landscaping, its beautiful flagstoned walkway up to the wide front door. When she looked more closely, though, she saw signs of decay that she hadn’t noticed in her earlier visit. The boxwoods needed trimming, the red paint on the front door was faded and just beginning to peel, the dead leaves of autumn lay scattered on a lawn that hadn’t been cut. The signs weren’t obvious, just the subtle warning signals that all was not well with the Tremaine finances.
“Nice place,” Sandy said in a neutral tone of voice. Jane shrugged. “I grew up in a house very much like this one. A little smaller, a little more haphazard looking, but the same general idea.”
“Was your father a captain of industry like Tremaine?” “Not exactly. My parents were college professors.” “I didn’t think even Princeton paid its professors well enough to afford this kind of life-style.”
“Princeton doesn’t.” Jane stared out the window, trying to fight the old sense of inadequacy that was settling down around her. “They came from an older class of moneyed educators. They inherited enough to enable them to indulge themselves in teaching. My parents were so impractical they couldn’t have survived if they had to do anything as simple as follow a budget and live on their salaries.”
“Your brother didn’t sound very practical, either.”
“He wasn’t. But I am,” she added with a trace of defiance. “Sensible Jane.” The plain was left unspoken, but she knew he had to be thinking it.”
“How’d you get along with your parents?”
“Sandy, they’ve been dead for more than seven years now. They were killed in a plane crash when they were on their way to a conference. It’s not the issue right now.”
“Maybe,” he said, “maybe not.”
Jane allowed herself a weary sigh, answering him anyway. “I got along with them about as well as I got along with Richard. In other words, they basically ignored my existence.”
“Why?”
“Richard was enough of a challenge for them. He was extremely gifted, even from the start. He could read by the time he was three, solve algebraic equations when he was five, balance mother’s checkbook when he was eight, which was the most impressive feat of all. In comparison I was just a normal little girl, walking when I should, talking when I should, playing with dolls and reading Nancy Drew books. My parents must have thought I was a changeling.”
Sandy just looked at her. “What about your sister? Was she one of the
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