Shadows on the Train by Melanie Jackson Read Free Book Online Page A

you,” my agent rasped back.
    â€œThe way I feel, the only trip I’ll be taking anytime soon is to the graveyard. Some fool showed up today wanting to be taken on as a client. Guess what the idiot’s specialty was. Whistling . Like I could get bookings for a whistler .”
    â€œHow about for Whistler’s Mother ?”
    The rasp turned into a growl. “No jokes, Dinah Mary Galloway. This whistling idiot had the flu—and breathed all over my lunch as we chatted. I should sue, I tell ya. Sue .”
    Mother started up from the table. “Did I hear my name?”
    I handed the phone to her. “Hi, Suzanne,” I heard Mr. Wellman hoarsely bark. “You won’t believe…”
    I fled. Sorry as I felt for Mr. Wellman, I wanted to pore over Dad’s envelope some more. Was there any clue to the eighty grand on it? And what had Ardle meant by a king who lost his head ?
    As I climbed the stairs, a plaintive cry from Madge echoed through the house: “What? I have to escort Dinah, Talbot and Pantelli to Toronto— alone ?”
    â€œIt’s not that bad,” Jack told my sister as I sat on my suitcase to force it shut, and he fastened the latches. “I mean, Dinah, Talbot and Pantelli aren’t animals.”
    Madge looked up from the very tidy, compartmentalized suitcase she was about to close with a slim hand. “Jack, their ages range from twelve to thirteen. You know very well that’s the most gruesome possible stage in a human being’s life. The age when kids go through,” she shuddered, “transition issues. Emotional changes.”
    Then she noticed herself in the hall mirror: slim, porcelain-skinned, and impossibly, for that hot August day, cool and elegant in a sleeveless indigo top and matching Capri pants. She gave a satisfied smile. “I was a model twelve- and thirteen-year-old. Quiet, well-behaved, causing no trouble whatsoever. All the teachers commented on it.”
    Jack shot her a fond, exasperated glance. Then, hoisting my case, he frowned. “This feels suspiciously heavy, Dinah.”
    I shrugged. “One day they’ll make lighter PlayStations, I’m sure.”
    â€œYou packed a Pl —? Remove it pronto, young woman.”
    I frowned back at him. Like, c’mon. A PlayStation was a must-have accessory when traveling. “I’m being restrained,” I defended myself. “I told Pantelli he’d have to bring the TV.”
    â€œNot after I phone Mrs. Audia, he won’t,” Jack said firmly.
    Jack was getting awfully bossy, I reflected, and he wasn’t even a member of the family yet. Not officially. In fact, I sometimes wondered how their wedding could ever occur, what with Mother and Mrs. Rinaldi complicating it more each day with their “plans.”
    Anyhow, Jack and Madge planned to live, if or when the wedding did happen, in our long-neglected basement. Madge had sketched designs, and she and Jack were renovating the basement bit by bit every day. Their downstairs suite was going to be pretty nice, with French doors opening out onto our lilac-fragrant, blackberry-wild garden. And I was delighted they wouldn’t be moving away—yay!
    Except at moments like now, when Jack was being unreasonable. “We’re talking two PlayStation-less weeks,” I muttered, dragging the machine out. Okay, so the case was now lighter, but no way I’d admit that. “I’ll have withdrawal symptoms,” I warned.
    Nobody heard me. Jack and Madge, holding hands, had one of those sweetheart-only, glued gazes going that normal people find extremely annoying. Jack was saying, “I, by contrast, was not a model twelve- or thirteen-year-old. Adults despaired of me until a couple of teachers inspired me to think about what I could be, as opposed to what I was. Yup, I used to be pretty beastly, all right. Then look what happened: The beast ended up with the beauty.”
    Amazingly