Shadows on the Train Read Online Free PDF

in, poisons you. Not fatally, but you’d be so sick you’d wish you were dead.”
    He leaned over the windowsill. Magnifying glass in hand, he was inspecting one of the chestnut gourds that gleamed like green lamps all over the tree. In another month they’d start falling to the ground and splitting. We’d scoop out the smooth, mahogany-colored chestnuts and roll them around in our hands like dice, enjoying their smooth coolness.
    â€œPoisonous if you eat a lot of leaves, that is,” Pantelli explained, pulling a branch toward him. “The effect all depends on the dose. Ironically, in small doses, and mixed with other ingredients, the plant is useful in the treatment of stuff like hardened arteries, leg ulcers and frostbite.”
    The top half of Pantelli was over the sill by now. Talbot and I traded uneasy glances. “How about for the treatment of people who fall out of windows?” Talbot called.
    â€œI’m fine . You guys don’t understand what it is to be a dendrologist.”
    â€œDendrologist?” I repeated. “Is that someone who makes dentures?”
    â€œOf course not.” Pantelli’s voice floated back to us, insulted. “It’s someone who studies trees.”
    Exchanging shrugs, Talbot and I began examining the labels Mother had Magic-Markered on boxes.
    Most of the boxes contained either photos or Madge’s and my schoolwork and report cards. The boxes were jammed between broken lamps and chairs that we couldn’t bring ourselves to throw out, and relatives’ presents none of us wanted, like the smiling brass woman whose ten hands each balanced a candleholder.
    â€œHow do we know which box has your dad’s effects?” asked Talbot. He examined a grim portrait of a Galloway great-uncle. “Hey, this old guy scowls just like you do, Dinah.”
    â€œVery funny.” I eased between stacks of boxes. The problem was I had no idea where Mother had stashed Dad’s effects. I knew, from something Madge had once said, that Mother had put them away as quickly as possible because they were too painful to look at.
    Pantelli had pulled a leaf off the nearest branch and was poring over it. “Reasonably healthy,” he pronounced. And then he mused, “The real puzzler is why the ‘horse’ in ‘horse chestnut.’ Possibly ’cause the plant has been used in mixtures for curing horses and cattle of coughs.”
    Talbot and I were busy shifting boxes back, forth and sideways. “I dunno if this is getting us anywhere,” said Talbot. “I feel like we’re playing Tetris.” His dark eyes narrowed at me in sudden suspicion. “Are you sure your mom said it was okay to do this?”
    â€œEr…” This was a sticky point. The way I’d explained it to Talbot, Mother hadn’t refused to let us look. Which she hadn’t, since I’d never asked her.
    Pantelli continued, “Some researchers think the ‘horse’ part is from the Welsh word gwres , meaning hot and fierce-tasting. That is, a flavor sensation you’d want to avoid.”
    I snapped my by-now extremely dusty fingers. “‘Avoid’! That’s it! Mother wanted to avoid seeing Dad’s effects. So she would’ve put them somewhere out of the way .”
    Talbot and I stopped moving the boxes on the floor around. “Out of the way” in this attic could only mean the high shelf that ran around the room.
    We squinted past the cobwebs that were strung from sec–tion to section of the shelf like telephone wires. “ DINAH’S VALIBLE COMIX ,” Talbot read aloud from the side of one small box. “ IF U THROW AWAY, PRIPAR TO DIE .”
    â€œNever mind those,” I said. Being height-challenged, I scrambled up on one of the floor boxes for a better look.
    At the window, Pantelli called, “Hi, Mrs. Chewbley! Whatcha doin’?”
    Mrs. Chewbley’s rueful