Chapter 51
JANEY’S SENSES WERE finely tuned to detect the subtlest clues that told of her subject’s beliefs and values. Those sensitive receptors were overloaded with stimuli from the moment she passed under the Boston Red Sox flag mounted on a front column, lifted the brass fox head knocker on the Prestons’ front door, and was ushered into the house. There was a smattering of BoSox trinkets here and there, enough to identify the occupants as devoted fans. But it stopped well short of creepy obsession.
The same restraint had not been applied to the foxhunting décor. Everywhere Janey looked there was something that screamed, “Foxhunters live here!” There were fox, hound, and horse sculptures—a mix of whimsical objects and fine art, from small knickknacks on shelves and tables to the impre
