Sue Grafton - U is for Undertow

Table of Contents

ALSO BY SUE GRAFTON

Kinsey Millhone mysteries

A is for Alibi
B is for Burglar
C is for Corpse
D is for Deadbeat
E is for Evidence
F is for Fugitive
G is for Gumshoe
H is for Homicide
I is for Innocent
J is for Judgment
K is for Killer
L is for Lawless
M is for Malice
N is for Noose
O is for Outlaw
P is for Peril
Q is for Quarry
R is for Ricochet
S is for Silence
T is for Trespass

A MARIAN WOOD BOOK

Published by G. P. Putnams Sons
Publishers Since 1838
a member of the Penguin Group

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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Copyright 2009 by Sue Grafton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Published simultaneously in Canada

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Grafton, Sue.
U is for undertow / Sue Grafton.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-15161-7

1. Millhone, Kinsey (Fictitious character)Fiction. 2. Women private investigatorsCaliforniaFiction. 3. GirlsCrimes againstFiction. I. Title.

PS3557.R13U
813.54dc22

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

http://us.penguingroup.com

For Larry Welch, who left us,
steering a course for ports unknown,
and for Pam, who sails on,
navigating her journey over high seas.
Safe passage to you both.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author wishes to acknowledge the invaluable assistance of the following people: Steven Humphrey; Sam Eaton, Eaton and Jones, Attorneys at Law; John Mackall, Attorney at Law, Seed Mackall LLP; Bill Turner, Detective Sergeant (retired), Santa Barbara County Sheriffs Department; Deborah Linden, Chief of Police, San Luis Obispo; Mary Ellen Tiffany, Vice President Business Development, Montecito Bank & Trust; Penny Braniff and Krys Jackson, Hope Ranch Park Homes Association; Special Agent Leane Blevins, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Ventura field office; Lisa Lowseth, DVM; Amy Taylor, Veterinary Technician, Cat Doctors; Susan Burke, Librarian, Laguna Blanca School; Diane Miller, Assistant Dean, Helen Bader School of Social Welfare, University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee; Kevin Frantz; Sally Giloth; Tracy Kanowsky; Suzanne Perkins; Steve Tipton; Kim Showalter; Jamie Clark; Susan Gulbransen; Joanna Barnes; and Sue Parks; along with a special thank-you to Margie and Keith Kirkendall, Patricia L. Erbe, M.D., and Jeffrey Grill, M.D., for the use of their names.

Wednesday afternoon, April 6, 1988

What fascinates me about life is that now and then the past rises up and declares itself. Afterward, the sequence of events seems inevitable, but only because cause and effect have been aligned in advance. Its like a pattern of dominoes arranged upright on a tabletop. With the flick of your finger, the first tile topples into the second, which in turn tips into the third, setting in motion a tumbling that goes on and on, each tile knocking over its neighbor until all of them fall down. Sometimes the impetus is pure chance, though I discount the notion of accidents. Fate stitches together elements that seem unrelated on the surface. Its only when the truth emerges you see how the bones are joined and everything connects.

Heres the odd part. In my ten years as a private eye, this was the first case I ever managed to resolve without crossing paths with the bad guys. Except at the end, of course.

My name is Kinsey Millhone. Im a private detective, female, age thirty-seven, with my thirty-eighth birthday coming up in a month. Having been married and divorced twice, Im now happily single and expect to remain so for life. I have no children thus far and I dont anticipate bearing any. Not only are my eggs getting old, but my biological clock wound down a long time ago. I suppose theres always room for one of lifes little surprises, but thats not the way to bet.

I work solo out of a rented bungalow in Santa Teresa, California, a town of roughly 85,000 souls who generate sufficient crime to occupy the Santa Teresa Police Department, the County Sheriffs Department, the California Highway Patrol, and the twenty-five or so local private investigators like me. Movies and television shows would have you believe a PIs job is dangerous, but nothing could be farther from the truth... except, of course, on the rare occasions when someone tries to kill me. Then Im ever so happy my health insurance premiums are paid up. Threat of death aside, the job is largely research, requiring intuition, tenacity, and ingenuity. Most of my clients reach me by referral and their business ranges from background checks to process serving, with countless other matters in between. My office is off the beaten path and I seldom have a client appear unannounced, so when I heard a tapping at the door to my outer office, I got up and peered around the corner to see who it was.

Through the glass I saw a young man pointing at the knob. Id apparently turned the dead bolt to the locked position when Id come back from lunch. I let him in, saying, Sorry about that. I must have locked up after myself without being aware of it.

Youre Ms. Millhone?

Yes.

Michael Sutton, he said, extending his hand. Do you have time to talk?

We shook hands. Sure. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?

No, thanks. Im fine.

I ushered him into my office while I registered his appearance in a series of quick takes. Slim. Lank brown hair with a sheen to it, worn long on top and cut short over his ears. Solemn brown eyes, complexion as clear as a babys. There was a prep school air about him: deck shoes without socks, sharply creased chinos, and a short-sleeve white dress shirt he wore with a tie. He had the body of a boy: narrow shoulders, narrow hips, and long, smooth arms. He looked young enough to be carded if he tried to buy booze. I couldnt imagine what sort of problem hed have that would require my services.