As always, another win for the Anna Pigeon series. This one is a lot different, being set in NYC. Lots of things going on and nobody is especially likable. I admire the author’s command of the English language, I come across unused words regularly and like defining them.
Favorite passages:
The raucous babble of languages must have seemed familiar to the old building.
Says God sent him to do it. I guess that’s as good an explanation as any.
made an unerring toss of the rope, lassoing the thick wooden upright that supported the dock. No one currently working on Ellis or Liberty, the two parts of the National Monument, had ever seen him miss. Cal never boasted. He just never missed.
“I get it. I sat. Scared you. I’m so sorry.” He was still chuckling. It was beginning to lose its charm.
Frederick enjoyed being underestimated, traded on it.
it was easy to imagine spiders of evil temperament and immoderate size.
Off work, she was subject to the myriad romantic fantasies that plague single girls between the ages of thirteen and dead.
“Another beer?” Patsy offered, further endearing herself.
Assistant Superintendent was a way station for the upwardly mobile or a parking place for burnouts and black sheep that the Park Service couldn’t get rid of and never intended to grant the power of a superintendency.
Who knew what to do with weepy men? He was too young to sleep with and too old to hold on her lap.
Public servants entrusted with deadly weapons were strongly discouraged from admitting symptoms of mental instability.
Molly was still breathing eleven beautiful self-initiated breaths per minute.
With only a mild sense of a rat abandoning ship, Anna left the confines of the hospital for the livelier confines of the city. For an hour or so she rattled around midtown killing time by looking at clothes she not only couldn’t afford but had no place to wear.
Not lack of recognition; lack of interest.
“It’s only a flesh wound,” she said, because she’d always wanted to. Claypool grunted. As close as he ever came to a laugh, she guessed.
If there was anything to the “science” of the paranormal, Ellis Island had the prerequisites for a hotbed of ghostly manifestations. Dreams had ended here, most happily but some at the end of a rope slung over the rafters. Families were separated, mothers from children and husbands from wives. Young women were turned away from the promised land because they traveled alone. With no one to meet them, they could not enter the country. The regulation was based on humane principles. An unprotected woman in New York was vulnerable to a number of evils. But who knew what terrors had induced her to cross oceans in the first place?
Anna knew she’d win. He was a southern boy. She was a lady and old enough to be his mother.
I don’t much care whether I’m nuts or haunted. I just want off the island.
Because she was a giving little beast, she’d infected her sister.
Scruffy specimens such as herself were turned away at the door.
“I’ve spent a few nights on that conference table,” Patsy assured her. “Slept like a baby. Just be sure you put all the cushions back. I don’t know if the Coast Guard brass know they’re running a flophouse for homeless park rangers.”
“Needn’t have hurried,” he said, and she realized the patience a man might develop who spent a quarter of a century waiting on a woman who neither moved nor breathed but stirred souls by her mere existence.
Like most people who lasted any length of time in the rescue professions, she’d worn out the “if” factor pretty quickly. You were where you were. You went where you went. You did what you could.
Suicides tore families apart the way even murder couldn’t. Suicide was somebody’s fault and blaming the dead was intrinsically unsatisfying.
You get to know people quick on an island.” Patsy would get to know people in a trailer park in Yazoo, Mississippi, in the Sahara or in downtown Hong Kong without being able to speak a word of Chinese.
“Were you horrible?” Patsy asked, having known Anna many years. “Mean or poking or anything?” “I don’t think I was horrible. I asked as nice as I know how.”
Two black-and-white pictures in old frames—one of a woman, one of a ship—graced the mantel.
Church isn’t all that bad for kids if you don’t take it too seriously.
Now she got a bad feeling Jim was just answering her in horrid detail.
A row of tractor caps were the only pieces of apparel treated with respect.
If he and his son had collaborated in kidnapping and perversion, she could probably get to the door before the old guy got the knife out from between the cushion and the cat.
“Can I come back?” “You damn well better.”
“Did you bring me candy? I require gobs of chocolate at this moment.” “I have quarters,” Anna countered. “We can get Hershey bars from the machine.” “Let’s do it,” Patsy responded, with the air of a naughty adventuress off to heist the family silver.
She’d been dating Hatch for eight months, and from what Anna could gather, was set on marrying him whether he liked it or not.
again strictly true and totally misleading—“
Every time I’d fall asleep I’d dream the phone was ringing, but it never was.
Then I gave up sleeping. I’m still not good at it, but I don’t dream. Not of anything.” This was said without a hint of self-pity. She spoke as if she told a story that she didn’t believe about a woman she didn’t like.
She wondered if his outsides were as unappealing. “Do you have any photos of him?” “I burned every goddamn one.” “Can’t say as I blame you,” Anna said.
Billy Bonham and his ghosts crossed her mind, but either they were not in attendance in this part of the hospital or she was not in the mood.
Curiosity was a greater force in the Pigeon sisters than fear.
A dead body wasn’t nearly as alarming as a spider of uncivilized dimensions.
He was looking enormously pleased with himself.
She used to be okay—not the kind that fits in, but the kind that wants to. Tries too hard.
“I’ll find out.” “Of course you will. God forbid you should just kick back, mind your own business, take in a Broadway show.”
and mischievous almost to the point of mean.
Entering the complex, Anna saw a prominent sign: NO: Ballplaying
Sitting
Standing
Eating
Playing Since it didn’t say NO Littering, she was tempted to drop the banana peel, but it went against her personal code of ethics and she had to leave the joke unmade.
Women were comfortable in the world of speculation, hard facts not so necessary for their thinking patterns.
She wished Frederick would come home. Arguing with him would be a distraction.
Civilization is eroding my morals
Strength of purpose, purity of faith and greatness of heart were qualities one did not come across every day.
Anna was going to like him a whole lot better as a friend than she ever did as a lover.
Anna looked at him. “You want me to do something,” he accused. “Something hard and boring and illegal.” “The FBI keeps a file of killers and other questionable types.”
Giving her life that others might whatever.
He was slight and old, wrinkled of skin and clothes, with eyes that bespoke a formidable intelligence.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s some lint waiting to tell me many things.”
“Are you working back-to-back shifts?” Anna asked, to create the illusion she cared about him as a person.
Anna’s sense of hurry had not abated, but she was out of things to hurry and do.
People broken in their own eyes were too great a drag on the soul to be faced when not feeling particularly Herculean oneself.
“I’m a poet,” he said simply. “Working on a new one.”
She lay without moving, taking courage from the fact that there were plenty of live possums in the world.
He did not disappoint. He was strong and handsome and calm.
Working on holidays, one wasn’t required to have fun. There was no pressure, no disappointments. And she usually had a wonderful time. Park visitors fed her. She was part of a dozen parties but owed allegiance to none. If the gathering was boring, she moved on. If it was too rowdy or offensive, she arrested everybody.
Weary, sick and too sore to walk straight, she thanked Cal for saving her soggy little life
“You go. I got it under control here. I mean, I’m not dying or anything, just useless. Go now.”
“I’ll be back,” she promised. Arnold Schwarzenegger had said the same thing in Terminator 2. It sounded more convincing with the accent.
REGARDLESS OF HOW divinely inspired, New York frowned upon unauthorized persons shooting people with borrowed guns. Anna spent seven hours with three different law enforcement agencies giving statements, defending her actions, accepting congratulations, being bullied and drinking bad coffee. Drowning in polluted salt water was beginning to seem like the good old days.
Anna had thought she’d want to but found she didn’t. Living it had been enough. It wasn’t a tale of high glamour, riches gained or lost. It was a nasty little story of hatred, fear and ignorance.