Jessica Thomas [Alex Peres Mysteries 1] Caught In The Net

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runaway kids. It s by no means confined to following errant spouses around town. But add my touch of paranoia to the really crazy morning I ve already
had, and maybe you ll forgive me for being just a tad prickly today.
We settled down with fresh coffee and the big cranberry-walnut scones. They tasted wonderful. As we ate, I told her of my earlier adventures.
Do you think this kid could be part of that robber gang? Janet was dubious. He wanted to get away badly enough, but he doesn t quite seem to fit the
picture.
It s hard to believe he s old enough or savvy enough, but he s obviously no boy scout. Tough little bastard and street-smart. I don t know. He s awfully
young, but that doesn t mean much anymore.
I know. It s awful. I heard on the news this morning about a thirteen-year-old-boy who murdered a little six-year-old-girl for not forking over her lunch
money. It s scary, isn t it? Whoever thought you d have to be afraid of grammar-school kids? But anyway, back to the beginning. Do I dare ask how you
ever ended up as a private investigator in a small town like this? Somehow you think of private investigators as being in Boston or New York.
It s simple enough, I told her. I wanted to be a lawyer when I was a kid, but my father s untimely demise put an end to that possibility. I told her of my
father s death, and she reacted with predictable horror. I continued with my tale.
Well, it sure put the kibosh on four years of college plus law school. We were actually in pretty dire straits for a few years there. I don t really know how
Mom held it together as well as she did. I did manage to get a student loan and get to the community college up in Hyannis. I lived at home and that
helped.
Janet broke a scone in half and put it on her plate. I got up and poured us more coffee, and then snagged the half-pastry she had left on the platter.
I suppose if I had been truly dedicated, I could have gotten a job in Boston and lived in some dreary little room and gone to night school. But truth to tell,
I just didn t have that kind of ambition. I didn t want to be a poverty-ridden drudge in a big city for ten years until I could get my law degree. I didn t want to
be starting my legal career when most of my peer group would be already well established at some good firm. I m where I want to be. A large percentage
of the time I enjoy what I m doing. Financially I m really pretty much okay.
I reached down and rubbed a silky ear. And here in Ptown I can have Fargo and take him most anywhere I go. So, I guess the bottom line is no
regrets.
Janet cocked her head. Really no regrets? Don t you feel that your father and mother pretty much let you down?
Let me down? I really doubt that my father, for all his myriad faults, picked up a ten-thousand-volt electric line just so he would-n t feel he had to help me
with my college tuition! I heard my voice rise and made an effort to calm down.
For several years Mom was hard-put to hang onto the house and get us through high school. And for my two years in Community she wouldn t take a
cent of rent or board. She helped me out with every dollar she could. That s what really made it possible for me. No, Janet, I d hardly call that letting me
down!
Well, if you say so. She didn t sound terribly convinced. I didn t get to college at all, and it was no more my fault than it was yours. I was really counting
on my high school advisor to help me get a scholarship, hopefully to Cornell. I wanted desperately to major in cooking and restaurant management and a
Cornell degree gets you an immediate entree most anywhere in that field. My high school grades were quite good and I had a part-time job at Burger
King, not that it was any great restaurant, of course, but it showed interest and willingness to work hard. But strangely, it turned out that kids with lower
grades and any old kind of job at all got the scholarships.
Her voice was bitter and harsh. I couldn t understand what she was getting at. So, no Cornell? What happened?
No Cornell. Janet nodded. Strangely, my high school counselor seems to have successfully blocked that. On the surface it appeared that she tried
very hard for me. Her recommendations were all glowing with statements like she is deeply dedicated . . . or she works every spare moment . . . or
she lets nothing stand in the way of . . . or she will make painful sacrifices to obtain . . . She made me sound like some sort of fixated lunatic.
I didn t understand. Why would she do that?
She may have been incompetent or may have just disliked me. But I heard she was one of those radical evangelical people. Maybe she found out I
was a lesbian and made sure there d be no scholarships for this sinful kid. In any event, there were none.
We looked at each other and shrugged. Homophobia could be a bitch. So you joined the Coasties?
She stuck her tongue out at me for using the nickname but grinned her forgiveness. Well, not immediately. I still had hopes of getting into some
college. I started trying to get student loans for colleges that were within commuting distance. I figured if I could live at home for nothing, and work part
time, with a loan I could probably swing it.
Not too many colleges you can very easily commute to around New Hampshire, I mused. You can t have had many choices. Could you have found
one that offered the major you wanted?
Janet looked down at the table, her hands clasped hard around her coffee mug. She spoke, so softly I had trouble hearing her. I leaned forward as she
said, Alex, I m not from New Hampshire, and my folks aren t comfortably retired and living happily down in Florida. I m from Connecticut, and my folks live
right where they always have in a shabby old two-family house in a blue-collar section of Norwalk. I I lied. I was ashamed of my background. I wanted
you to think I came from a regular middle class family, not a bunch of lowbrows who think Emily Dickinson is Angie s sister.
I laughed, but then sobered when I realized how much all this obviously meant to her. I asked, Surely you don t think I m an heiress in disguise? Or that I
give a damn about your family? It s you I care about, I said, and suddenly realized that I did indeed care. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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