The Girl with the Phony Name: A Mystery (Girl Series)

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9781250012241: The Girl with the Phony Name: A Mystery (Girl Series)
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So reads the fine lettering on the back of the intricate, ornate Celtic brooch Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine has just inherited. Lucy, an independent twenty-nine-year-old orphan, has devoted a considerable amount of time and energy trying to unravel the mystery surrounding her past. Having contacted everyone in five hundred phone books whose name even vaguely resembled Trelaine or MacAlpin to no avail, all she knows is that her parents were killed in a car crash in western Massachusetts twenty-eight years ago. Her luck changes when she sees a newspaper ad from a law firm inquiring as to the whereabouts of one Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine. The ad leads her to an "inheritance," which is no more than the Celtic brooch stolen from her after the car crash so many years ago, but it does provide her with a fresh trail of clues to follow, clues that take her to New York City. To make ends meet while continuing her investigations, she takes a job with hyperactive business entrepreneur Tak Wing, owner of the Neat 'n' Tidy chain of funeral parlors. Determined to help Lucy find her true identity, Tak Wing insists that they travel to the Scottish Hebrides, with Lucy disguised as a punk rocker. From kidnapping to grave-robbing to tea with the local laird, Lucy's adventures propel her toward a conclusion that may shake the British Empire to its foundations.

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About the Author:

Charles Mathes for many years ran an international play-publishing and licensing company. He is now an appraiser of fine and decorative arts in New York City, where he lives with his wife, Arlene Graston, an artist and writer. Mr. Mathes is the author of several books.

Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Girl with the Phony Name, The
ONE"Welcome in to Welcome Inn, Miss Trelaine!""Thank you," replied Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine politely, making a mental note to give the pretty blonde desk clerk a ten for Employee Attitude. The girl was so perky you could probably fry an egg on her face."Joey will take you to your room! My name is Jill! Thank you for choosing the Kankakee Welcome Inn! Have a great stay!""Thank you so much," said Lucy. A tall, pimply teenager had already grabbed her bags."Hi! I'm Joey! Follow me! Welcome in to Welcome Inn!"Lucy followed the boy through the standard Early American lobby into the standard oak-paneled elevator. There was even the standard Welcome Inn smell, a mixture of fried chicken and rug shampoo. Did someone buy industrial-sized drums of it in concentrated form? "Eau de Motel" ?"Have you ever stayed at Welcome Inn before?" askedJoey, eyes wide, Adam's apple bobbling up and down like a lottery ping-pong ball."No," she lied. She had stayed in hundreds. It was her job."Well, you're in for a treat!" the boy exclaimed with frightening enthusiasm.The elevator opened onto the third floor. Lucy's room was only a few steps down the standard beige hallway. Joey unlocked the door, hung her Valpak in the closet, and placed her suitcase on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed."This is your TV! This is your phone! This is the key to your honor bar! Plenty of beverages and snacks in there! It's refilled every morning and your room is automatically billed for what you've used ... ."Lucy glanced around, listening to Joey's spiel out of one ear. The room was identical to the one last night in Terre Haute and the room in Roanoke the night before that. Everything looked satisfactory on the surface, but she'd make a more thorough inspection later." ... Check-out time is one o'clock! Thank you for choosing the Kankakee Welcome Inn! Have a great stay!"Joey stood grinning ear to ear at the door, towering over her five-foot-one-inch frame."Thank you very much," said Lucy. "I know the sign said 'no tipping,' but I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I gave you a little something for being so helpful?"Lucy pressed two dollars into his hand."Thanks," said Joey, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. He handed her the key and left smiling."Joey sleeps with da fishes tonight," said Lucy sadly to a lamp. The lamp didn't answer.Part of what made Welcome Inns such hospitable places was the absence of outstretched palms every time you turned around. Welcome Inn, Inc., considered "No tipping" on a par with "Thou shalt not make any graven images" in the great scheme of things. Joey would probably lose his job when she filed her report.He had only himself to blame, Lucy told herself, nibbling her lower lip. She had to zap a few employees every month or they wouldn't take her seriously at corporate headquarters. She had let two screw-ups off the hook this week already, for crissakes.Lucy dug out a petty cash slip from her jacket pocket."Should I put in for four dollars instead of two?" Lucy asked the lamp. "One hundred percent on my money. Who would know?"The lamp still didn't answer. Lucy had been talking to furniture a lot recently."I'm not cut out for this," said Lucy, recording the tip as two dollars on the slip. "I'm too honest."Welcome Inn paid Lucy $35,500 a year plus expenses. Big money to Joey, she thought cynically, but what were her ex-classmates from Harvard pulling down now? $50,000? $100,000? To say nothing of exploding bonuses and stock options.Even now that she had finally paid off her student loans and built up some savings, Lucy still felt poor. She had been working since she was fifteen, trying to give herself a little security, but it was never enough. She never felt safe.Lucy glanced at the mirror over the dresser. A caricature looked back: a mop of tangled black hair over a pair of enormous blue eyes. She looked tired down to the tip of her long, straight nose."Lucy," she said earnestly to her reflection. "What is your problem?"Mirror Lucy looked frightened and angry but said nothing, just stretched her hands over her head, then popped her trick shoulders. Her arms fell unnaturally behind her back.Lucy had nearly blown her interview for Harvard with a demonstration of her double-jointedness. She hadn't thought she had a chance and hadn't taken the procedure very seriously. Why would Harvard accept a kid who hadn't completed more than six months in any one high school?"We are only interested in people who are in some way special," the interviewer, a small Pakistani with an expensive toupee and a complexion like dried fruit had said. "What makes you special?"Instead of concocting some suitably pretentious answer, Lucy had clasped her hands behind her back at waist level, then moved them over her head into her lap without letting go. When the little man didn't laugh, she'd bent her wrists backwards, made her fingers into little sevens, and rotated her elbows 240 degrees."Shall I call paramedics?" the interviewer had asked, blinking three times in rapid succession and nervously adjusting his hair."No," Lucy had muttered. "I'm all right now. Being able to cope with my condition and still lead a relatively normal life makes me feel very special indeed."Inspecting motel units for Welcome Inn was Lucy's sixth job since Harvard. She had been fired from two sales jobs, quit on a financial planner, and been laid off by a computer service bureau. She had lasted a few years as an assistant to an accountant, but then he had retired, leaving her to comb the want ads in the Boston Globe until she found her present position.At least this job was out of the line of fire. Lucy was useless at office politics and didn't mind traveling, although lately it had been getting a little lonely."The next thing you know I'll be talking to myself," she confided to the clock radio, which hummed sympathetically.It took Lucy six and a half minutes to unpack and check the television reception, the extra pillows and blankets in the closet, and all the light bulbs. After three years of being on the road five days a week, Lucy had her routine down to a science.She orbited the room counterclockwise, inspecting the wastebaskets, ashtrays, and drawers for litter. Using the toiletgave her a perfect opportunity to see that there was a proper supply of towels, soap, Kleenex tissues, and toilet paper."What?" Lucy gasped, seated on the throne. "TP end not folded into a reassuring triangle? Someone will pay for this flagrant challenge to propriety and Western civilization!"She recorded the offense on one of the preprinted evaluation forms and moved back to the bedroom.Unlocking the honor bar revealed another problem. The ice trays were frozen together. How many times had she seen that! It would cost them one quality point.Leaving the honor bar unlocked--every once in a while she could nab a maid for stealing something--Lucy took the ice bucket down the hall and filled it from the ice machine.She returned and poured herself a Coke, then picked up the phone and dialed 8 for valet service. It was Thursday, which meant the blue dress. She might be poor but at least she would remain unwrinkled. How many Harvard grads got free dry cleaning as a job perk?"This is Miss Trelaine in Room three-o-nine," Lucy said, filling out the laundry ticket as she spoke. "I have some cleaning that I need tomorrow morning. Could you please send someone? Yes, three-o-nine. Thanks."It would be a few minutes until the boy arrived and Lucy didn't believe in wasting time. She tossed yesterday's bra and panties into the sink with a capful of Woolite, then dug into the night-table drawer for the local phone book.Checking phone books was Lucy's only hobby. It cost nothing and gave her a little hope. Everybody needs a little hope, Lucy had often confided to furniture. Everywhere she went Lucy ritually checked the phone books.The nuns at St. Anthony's claimed she had no family, but Lucy never believed a word the nuns said about anything. Everyone had somebody. People didn't just pop out of nowhere, regardless of what her records said.Records! That was a laugh. Lucy kept a photocopy of heradmission file from the orphanage in her wallet. It consisted of four sentences:Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine, October 23. Parents killed auto crash, Western Mass. Admitted St. Anthony's. No known relatives.It was the only real information Lucy had ever found about herself, and it had taken the threat of legal action to get it from the nuns.Where Lucy had spent her first year and a half was still a mystery. Boston child welfare couldn't even come up with the paperwork of her transferal to St. Anthony's. Somebody had obviously bungled. Going through phone books was the only hope Lucy had of finding her family.Thanks to her job with Welcome Inn, Lucy had been able to check phone books in over five hundred cities. She had never found any Trelaines.Trelaine sounded like a normal name, but there the resemblance ended. There were Trelauns, Trelevens, Trelegens, Treloars, Trelins, Tralins, and Tralongos. There were plenty of Tremaines. There were no Trelaines. Anywhere.Lucy had researched the name thoroughly in the best genealogical libraries in the country.She had pored over Black's Surnames of Scotland, the Dictionary of English and Welsh Surnames, Elsdon Smith's New Dictionary of American Family Names, The Dictionary of British Surnames, Surnames of the United Kingdom, Irish Names and Surnames, and both of Edward MacLysaght's books, The Surnames of Ireland and More Irish Families. She had even tried the Dictionnaire Étymologique des Noms de Famille et Prénoms de France, as well as books on Dutch, Spanish, Italian, Russian, and Scandinavian names.Trelaine simply did not exist as a surname.MacAlpins were another story. Although the exact spelling was rare, the phone books were full of plausible variants likeMcAlpin and MacAlpine. Over the years Lucy had talked to hundreds of them.MacAlpins had become her pen pals, McAlpins had had her over for dinner, Mc Alpines had brought her to their country clubs. Some had talked a blue streak and some had hung up in her ear, but no one had ever thrown any light on her origin.There were no Trelaines in the Kankakee phone book.Lucy wondered what she would do if she ever found a Trelaine. Have a heart attack, probably. No doubt it would turn out to be the wrong Trelaine, anyway.There was one listing for a McAlpin, Roy, and another for McAlpin's Barber Shop. Since Lucy had been in Kankakee before, she powered up her little Toshiba laptop to check if she'd already spoken to the man. Several megabytes of the hard disk were devoted to her family-research database.In seconds Lucy was in the right subdirectory and had found Roy McAlpin's name, address, telephone number, date of contact, and a memo that she had turned down his offer of a haircut. She had rated him a "three" on her MacAlpin scale--"one" being a possible, "three" being an unlikely.Over the years Lucy had accumulated information about more than a thousand MacAlpins, first in notebooks, now on the computer. There were maybe two dozen "one"s altogether.Andrew Macalpin, for instance, was a "one." He lived in western Massachusetts, Springfield, and had a sister with whom he had lost touch."She got herself pregnant," Andrew Macalpin had told Lucy in the coffee shop of the Springfield Welcome Inn. "Had a child somewhere in the sixties, I heard." Lucy never found the woman.Barbara Mc Alpin in Atlanta was a "one," too. She remembered a distant cousin who'd been killed in a car crash up north. Unfortunately she couldn't remember the cousin's married name. How do you track something like that?A knocking sound interrupted Lucy's thoughts."You called for some cleaning?" said another pimply teenager when Lucy opened the door. His name tag read, Bob Welcomes You in to Welcome Inn!"Yes," said Lucy, handing him her blue dress. "I need it tomorrow morning. Can you do that?" Lucy knew very well that Welcome Inns did dry cleaning twenty-four hours a day, but took nothing for granted when she was on duty."There's an extra charge since it's after noon, ma'am.""That's fine as long as I get it back before ten A.M. tomorrow. Let me give you something extra just ...""No, thank you, ma'am!""Are you sure?" Lucy batted her huge blue eyes innocently. The boy didn't even blink."Yes, ma'am! It's our pleasure to serve you without gratuities! Have a great stay!"Lucy shut the door behind him. That made up for Joey. Maybe Bob would make employee of the week when she filed her report. Did she really look like a "ma'am" ?Lucy was at the mirror, trying to decide whether she was over the hill, when the phone rang."Hello?" she said tentatively."Hello, Lucy. It's Tug."Lucy didn't like this already. Tug Berwin was her boss, an ex-army officer with a cleft in his chin as deep as a Welcome Inn closet. They rarely spoke. Lucy mailed her evaluations and expense documentation to Tug at company headquarters in Dallas every week. He wired paychecks and expense reimbursements to her New Hampshire bank and forwarded her itinerary. For him to be calling meant something was wrong."Hello, Tug," she said, trying not to sound concerned. "What a nice surprise.""So, Lucy, how ya doin'?""Fine, thanks. And you?"It must be really bad, Lucy decided. Tug Berwin didn't give a shit how anyone was doing. Tug Berwin had actuallymissed his daughter's performance as the Sugar Plum Fairy to attend a Monster Trucks rally for goodness sakes!"Look, Luce, we've been together a long time," said Tug. She could practically hear his perfect posture over the phone. "I respect you too much to pull any punches.""You mean you'll let me have it right in the kisser? I appreciate that, Tug.""Fact is, Lucy, the company's reorganizing. Your job's been phased out.""I see," she said, stunned. "When is this going to happen?" Maybe he would cut himself on the creases in his trousers and die before the paperwork was completed."It's already a done deal. You can drop off the car in Chicago--the long-term lot at O'Hare. Send me the keys and the parking claim-check with your final expense report. Cut your company credit cards up and send them, too. You're due for four days' severance. I'll wire it with your final expenses.""Just like that?" Lucy asked, stiffening her upper lip."Just like what?" responded Tug, genuinely confused.Lucy managed to muster a smile. The warmhearted American corporation! In a way she was almost relieved. Something like this was bound to happen. It always did. She had always survived. She would again."I've already checked in here," said Lucy after a moment. "Would you mind if I ...""Relax, kid," said Tug magnanimously. "Take your time. You don't have to be in Chicago until tomorrow. Have a great stay."THE GIRL WITH THE PHONY NAME. Copyright © 1992 ...

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Book Description St. Martins Press-3pl, 2003. Paperback. Condition: New. Language: English . Brand New Book ***** Print on Demand *****. So reads the fine lettering on the back of the intricate, ornate Celtic brooch Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine has just inherited. Lucy, an independent twenty-nine-year-old orphan, has devoted a considerable amount of time and energy trying to unravel the mystery surrounding her past. Having contacted everyone in five hundred phone books whose name even vaguely resembled Trelaine or MacAlpin to no avail, all she knows is that her parents were killed in a car crash in western Massachusetts twenty-eight years ago. Her luck changes when she sees a newspaper ad from a law firm inquiring as to the whereabouts of one Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine. The ad leads her to an inheritance, which is no more than the Celtic brooch stolen from her after the car crash so many years ago, but it does provide her with a fresh trail of clues to follow, clues that take her to New York City. To make ends meet while continuing her investigations, she takes a job with hyperactive business entrepreneur Tak Wing, owner of the Neat n Tidy chain of funeral parlors. Determined to help Lucy find her true identity, Tak Wing insists that they travel to the Scottish Hebrides, with Lucy disguised as a punk rocker. From kidnapping to grave-robbing to tea with the local laird, Lucy s adventures propel her toward a conclusion that may shake the British Empire to its foundations. Seller Inventory # AAV9781250012241

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Book Description St. Martins Press-3pl, 2003. Paperback. Condition: New. Language: English . Brand New Book ***** Print on Demand *****.So reads the fine lettering on the back of the intricate, ornate Celtic brooch Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine has just inherited. Lucy, an independent twenty-nine-year-old orphan, has devoted a considerable amount of time and energy trying to unravel the mystery surrounding her past. Having contacted everyone in five hundred phone books whose name even vaguely resembled Trelaine or MacAlpin to no avail, all she knows is that her parents were killed in a car crash in western Massachusetts twenty-eight years ago. Her luck changes when she sees a newspaper ad from a law firm inquiring as to the whereabouts of one Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine. The ad leads her to an inheritance, which is no more than the Celtic brooch stolen from her after the car crash so many years ago, but it does provide her with a fresh trail of clues to follow, clues that take her to New York City. To make ends meet while continuing her investigations, she takes a job with hyperactive business entrepreneur Tak Wing, owner of the Neat n Tidy chain of funeral parlors. Determined to help Lucy find her true identity, Tak Wing insists that they travel to the Scottish Hebrides, with Lucy disguised as a punk rocker. From kidnapping to grave-robbing to tea with the local laird, Lucy s adventures propel her toward a conclusion that may shake the British Empire to its foundations. Seller Inventory # AAV9781250012241

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Book Description St. Martin's Griffin. Paperback. Condition: New. 224 pages. Dimensions: 8.5in. x 5.5in. x 0.6in.So reads the fine lettering on the back of the intricate, ornate Celtic brooch Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine has just inherited. Lucy, an independent twenty-nine-year-old orphan, has devoted a considerable amount of time and energy trying to unravel the mystery surrounding her past. Having contacted everyone in five hundred phone books whose name even vaguely resembled Trelaine or MacAlpin to no avail, all she knows is that her parents were killed in a car crash in western Massachusetts twenty-eight years ago. Her luck changes when she sees a newspaper ad from a law firm inquiring as to the whereabouts of one Lucy MacAlpin Trelaine. The ad leads her to an inheritance, which is no more than the Celtic brooch stolen from her after the car crash so many years ago, but it does provide her with a fresh trail of clues to follow, clues that take her to New York City. To make ends meet while continuing her investigations, she takes a job with hyperactive business entrepreneur Tak Wing, owner of the Neat n Tidy chain of funeral parlors. Determined to help Lucy find her true identity, Tak Wing insists that they travel to the Scottish Hebrides, with Lucy disguised as a punk rocker. From kidnapping to grave-robbing to tea with the local laird, Lucys adventures propel her toward a conclusion that may shake the British Empire to its foundations. This item ships from multiple locations. Your book may arrive from Roseburg,OR, La Vergne,TN. Paperback. Seller Inventory # 9781250012241

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