Anything Goes

determined to out-snob a rather snobby family. With the help of a New York State Supreme Court judge who had fruitlessly courted Hilary for many years (and received, each Christmas, a petit point pillow with his initials in whatever colors of wool Hilary had left over that year), Claude got a scholarship to Columbia Law School and subsequently a very good job in a prestigious firm of tax attorneys.
    Claude was older than Lily and Robert and was a big, rather coarse-featured, crinkly-haired, barrel-chested redhead with a stiff, patronizing manner that made them dislike him almost from the days of their births. When they were complaining bitterly about him correcting their manners one day when they were both teenagers, their father told them the story of Aunt Hilary and the preacher and urged them to try to work up some sympathy for poor Claude.
    Neither of them had ever been able to do so.
    “Let’s find out what he’s doing here,“ Lily said as Claude paced in front of the gas station, smoking a cigarette in a silver holder that probably cost more than the average person’s monthly pay. Not that the average person had monthly pay these days.
    “Let’s avoid him,“ Robert said.
    But the decision was taken from them when Claude shaded his eyes for a moment, looked across the street and spotted them.
    “Too late,“ Lily murmured. “Besides, I want to know what he was doing on that boat when Uncle Horatio died.“
    “Trying to get something out of Uncle, you can bet,“ Robert replied. “I never met a greedier man in my life. Remember how he used to fine us when he disapproved of our manners? Took my whole week’s allowance once because I used a bad word and he threatened to tell Dad.“
    “What was the word?“ Lily asked.
    “Poop,“ Robert said. “Not exactly blasphemy.“
    “We can’t pretend we didn’t see him. Come along. Five minutes’ chitchat and we’re done. And don’t use the word ‘poop,’ if you don’t mind, unless you’re asking him about parts of the boat.”
    Lily took Robert’s arm and nearly dragged him across the street. “Why, Claude, it is you,“ she said brightly. “What are you doing clear up here so far from the City?”
    He gazed sternly at the two of them and nodded formally. “Just visiting some friends and business associates. But my car has a flat.“
    “Could we give you a lift somewhere in Uncle’s Duesie?“ Robert asked with a wicked grin. “It’s just up the road.”
    Claude’s perpetually ruddy face grew redder. “Yes, I did hear something about you two inheriting his estate. But I don’t need a ride, thank you. The garage man says he’ll have the tire repaired in a few moments.“
    “I understand you were on the boat when Uncle Horatio died,“ Robert said.
    Claude made a surprised noise which, in a less refined individual, would have been called a snort. “Where did you hear that?“ he asked, apparently hoping he could deny it.
    “There was an account of it in the local paper,“ Robert replied.
    “It must have been a horrible experience for you, Claude,“ Lily said, hoping she sounded encouraging and sympathetic.
    “Of course it was. Such a tragedy. I’ve tried to put it out of my mind.“ Claude cast a hurried glance back over his shoulder to see if the car was ready.
    “Oh, you shouldn’t do that,“ Lily said. “All the brain doctors these days say you should thrash about with your feelings in order to come to terms with them.“
    “I’m not familiar with any brain doctors,“ Claude huffed.
    “Perhaps you should—“ Robert began.
    Lily gave him a sharp nudge.
    “Claude,“ she went on, “you weren’t injured when the boat wrecked, were you?”
    The ploy worked. “Yes, I was, as a matter of fact. A minor injury, fortunately. I got my finger caught in some sort of hook on the dinghy and broke it. It was extremely painful.”
    Robert said something under his breath that neither of them quite caught.
    “So you were on the dinghy,“ Lily went on. “Why was that? Why didn’t you swim like several others did?”
    Claude regarded her suspiciously, wondering how she knew this much. “I’m not a swimmer.“ The tone was that of an upright citizen declaring he was not an arsonist.
    “And the dinghy was supposed to go back for the others?“
    “Yes, but it sustained too much damage to go back. I must say, the Bannermans’ guards on the island took onto themselves far too many important decisions. One of them actually waved