Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    "D" is for Deadbeat: A Kinsey Millhone Mystery
    "D" is for Deadbeat: A Kinsey Millhone Mystery
    "D" is for Deadbeat: A Kinsey Millhone Mystery
    Ebook269 pages4 hours

    "D" is for Deadbeat: A Kinsey Millhone Mystery

    By Sue Grafton

    3.5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Sue Grafton's #1 New York Times bestselling series, reissued for a whole new generation of readers!

    D IS FOR DEADBEAT

    He called himself Alvin Limardo, and the job he had for Kinsey was cut-and-dried: locate a kid who'd done him a favor and pass on a check for $25,000. It was only later, after he'd stiffed her for her retainer, that Kinsey found out his name was Daggett. John Daggett. Ex-con. Inveterate liar. Chronic drunk. And dead. The cops called it an accident--death by drowning. Kinsey wasn't so sure.

    Pulled into the detritus of a dead man's life, Kinsey soon realizes that Daggett had an awful lot of enemies. There's the daughter who grew up with a cheating drunk for a father, and the wife who's become a religious nut in response to an intolerable marriage. There's the lady who thought she was Mrs. Daggett--and has the bruises to prove it--only to discover the legal Mrs. D. And there are the drug dealers out $25,000. But most of all, there are the families of the five people John Daggett killed, victims of his wild, drunken driving. The D.A. called it vehicular manslaughter and put him away for two years. The families called it murder and had very good reason to want John Daggett dead.

    Deft, cunning, and clever, this latest Millhone mystery also confronts some messy truths, for, as Kinsey herself says, "Some debts of the human soul are so enormous only life itself is sufficient forfeit"--but as she'd be the first to admit, murder is not a socially acceptable solution.

    "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
    "U" Is for Undertow
    "V" Is for Vengeance
    "W" Is for Wasted
    "X"

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateApr 1, 2010
    ISBN9781429909327
    "D" is for Deadbeat: A Kinsey Millhone Mystery
    Author

    Sue Grafton

    Sue Grafton was one of the most popular female writers, both in the UK and in the US. Born in Kentucky in 1940, she began her career as a TV scriptwriter before Kinsey Millhone and the 'alphabet' series took off. Two of the novels B is for Burglar and C is for Corpse won the first Anthony Awards for Best Novel. Sue lived and wrote in Montecito, California and Louisville, Kentucky.

    Read more from Sue Grafton

    Related to "D" is for Deadbeat

    Titles in the series (16)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Mystery For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Table Talk

      Jun 1, 2020

      Table Talk
      11 min read

    • Article

      Waiting To Be Important

      Mar 19, 2021

      Waiting To Be Important
      3 min read

    • Article

      Waiting To Be Important

      Mar 19, 2021

      Waiting To Be Important
      3 min read

    • Article

      The Duplex

      Jun 9, 2020

      I moved to Los Angeles to sing. When was this? August? June? I was twenty-nine, and those were shapeless months, when the days blended together and I refused to pull them apart. My landlord was unusually close to her adult son. His name was Jeffrey,

      21 min read

    • Article

      ‘Lady in the Lake’: Featured Fiction from Laura Lippman

      Jul 23, 2019

      An excerpt from Lippman's latest, a sophisticated crime novel that captures the 1960s zeitgeist while painting a striking portrait of female ambition. The post ‘Lady in the Lake’: Featured Fiction from Laura Lippman appeared first on The Millions.

      5 min read

    • Article

      You’re a Writer Now

      Aug 10, 2017

      I was starting to lose hope. I was drinking too much wine as a way to temper the barrage of rejections cluttering my inbox, and as a result, I’d wake every morning at two or three or four and lie there, hungover and heart pounding, despairing that no

      8 min read

    • Article

      A Year in Reading: J. Howard Rosier

      Dec 11, 2020

      Without a doubt one of the most impressively constructed literary “timelines” that I’ve yet to come across, but what I find myself thinking about more is how deftly it addressed contemporary issues without being pandering, or hokey. One of several no

      10 min read

    • Article

      Ashleigh Bryant Phillips

      Jun 10, 2020

      Ashleigh Bryant Phillips
      6 min read

    • Article

      Shelve This in Memoir: Confessions of a Teenage Bookseller

      Sep 5, 2022

      I’d begged my way into this job in the hopes that it might lead me closer to a literary life. And it would. Eventually. The post Shelve This in Memoir: Confessions of a Teenage Bookseller appeared first on The Millions.

      10 min read

    • Article

      Sue Grafton from A to Z

      Aug 22, 2017

      Sue Grafton from A to Z
      7 min read

    • Article

      La Bohème

      Mar 1, 2022

      ON A SATURDAY or Sunday afternoon in the cold early months of 1988, I sat alone at a table for two in a Greenwich Village diner, twenty-four years old, hopelessly young, my notebook open in front of me. At the table next to mine were three people, al

      13 min read

    • Article

      Dead Good Job

      May 11, 2023

      Dead Good Job
      3 min read

    • Article

      What We Loved This Week

      May 25, 2018

      What We Loved This Week
      5 min read

    • Article

      Extraordinary People

      Sep 5, 2021

      Extraordinary People
      2 min read

    • Article

      A Letter from New York

      Dec 10, 2019

      A Letter from New York
      10 min read

    • Article

      Crying In The Library

      Jul 17, 2019

      Crying In The Library
      4 min read

    • Article

      Love Letters To Kim

      May 20, 2020

      Love Letters To Kim
      8 min read

    • Article

      Love Letters To Kim

      May 20, 2020

      Love Letters To Kim
      8 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for "D" is for Deadbeat

    3.5/5

    884 ratings28 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 3/5
      I have to admit this one was hard to listen to. Most of the characters were reprehensible and the background on the case was a very sad story. Throughout the book you are not sure about the John Daggett character and wonder all the times at his motives for doing things.

      Kinsey has to deal with a very diverse group of characters in this book. There are ex-cons, teenagers, siblings, multiple wives and a very anger daughter. Kinsey also finds herself just waiting for a break in the case to move to the next clue. This is probably the first book where I actually felt some sympathy for the killer. When this book was over, I think I felt as tired and emotionally drain as Kinsey did – it just wasn’t a story with any light to dark places.

      Judy Kaye continues to deliver one of the most consistent narrations of a book series that I have ever listened to. You always know when Kinsey is speaking and you can easily discern the voices of the other characters without any confusion.
    • 4/5
      Digital audio read by Mary Peiffer.3.5*** Book four in the series. PI Kinsey Millhone gets a new client whose story seems a bit fishy. He wants her to deliver a certified check to a teen-aged boy. Her suspicions are aroused, especially when he refuses to explain why he can’t (or won’t) deliver it himself. But it’s the end of the month, rent is due, and she accepts his retainer. Then his check bounces and she quickly discovers that he isn’t who he claimed to be. When he turns up dead the police call it accidental drowning, but Kinsey thinks he was murdered. They question is why and by whom?I really like this series. I had started it years ago and probably got to about book 8 or 9 before I stopped reading. Now I’ve started over from the beginning and am enjoying the retro feel. There are no cell phones or computers; Kinsey has to rely on her intellect, her network of connections and good old-fashioned leg work. She’s smart, determined, self-sufficient and never has to rely on a man to get her out of a tight spot. Mary Peiffer does a fine job reading the audio version. She sets a good pace and I really like how she interprets Kinsey’s personality.
    • 3/5
      I've been doing audio books in the car lately. Although this one is on CD, I discovered that there are many books to download for free from my library system. Very cool. You download them and they expire in 21 days.
    • 3/5
      BOTTOM-LINE:An okay but very depressing case..PLOT OR PREMISE:Kinsey is hired to deliver a cashier's cheque to a 15-year-old, but the client stiffs her on the fee so she hunts for him before delivering it..WHAT I LIKED:There isn't a lot of mystery early on, just a few simple unanswered questions until a body drops. Now suddenly there's a murder to solve. The initial premise of the lying client sounded a bit familiar to one of her other novels, but not quite the same, which was good. And while Jonah features in the story, the rest of the ancillary characters are non-existent, leaving the story to run along at a decent pace..WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:I never really felt much sympathy or empathy for the murder victim, so it's hard to get too excited about the case. Overall, most of the characters and the outcomes are all negative, so the whole storyline is rather a downer..DISCLOSURE:I received no compensation, not even a free copy, in exchange for this review. I am not personal friends with the author, nor do I follow her on social media.
    • 3/5
      3.5 Stars really So this installment was good I didn’t expect the ending till the end.
    • 5/5
      As always, a great read. Never a dull moment. Her books could be read in one seating if one had the time. I never tire of Kinsey Millhone, the main character in Sue Grafton's books. She is an independent young woman, self-employed, doing what she loves to do and is good at it. As a private investigator, she is a minority in her field. If you enjoy suspense, this is book and series for you.
    • 5/5
      Kinsey Millhone is back and better than ever in D is for Deadbeat. She comes across a suspiciously easy case: deliver a cashier's check to a young teenage boy. Against her better judgement, Kinsey agrees to take on the case. But she soon finds that her new case isn't as it seems as the man who hired her winds up dead. And everyone that knows him has reasons for wanting him dead. Kinsey can't seem to let the case go, even if it means that danger lurks around every corner.D is for Deadbeat is another amazing read in Grafton's alphabet mystery series! Easily one of the best mystery series that I've read in a long time. I have a hard time putting these books down! I love Kinsey as a main character, love how realistic she comes across, and how unapologetic she is when it comes to her personality. She is who she is and doesn't seem to care what anyone thinks. This book was another read that kept me on my seat as I read it...I just kept thinking one more chapter until I had over half of the book read :) I thought that the mystery was both original and unconventional. Especially the ending and who the killer was. I didn't see that one coming from a mile long! But what I enjoy most about these books is the entire process and watching Kinsey figure out who the killer/bad guy is. I usually never see the ending coming and of course this book didn't disappoint. It was just a great read for me!All in all, another exceptional read from this author! I love Kinsey and these books....I just can't get enough! They are fast-paced, easy reads that keep me coming back for more. Highly recommended to mystery lovers! And if you haven't begun this series yet, what are you waiting for????Bottom Line: Hand's down a must read series, and this book is another great addition to it!Disclosure: I bought my copy of this book from the used book store. (Finally, I read something off of my own shelves!)
    • 3/5
      OK, but quite formulaic. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing.
    • 4/5
      So it's not great literature. It's easy to follow and relaxing to read. I enjoyed it for what it is.
    • 4/5
      Fun read. Good mystery, crazy characters!
    • 4/5
      I thoroughly enjoy the Kinsey Millhone mystery novels. They are entertaining, well written, and easy to read in a few hours.
    • 3/5
      In her fourth adventure, Kinsey gets an intriguing visit from a man who wants her to track down a teenager and deliver a check. The man who visited her turns up dead and his bizarre and unattractive history is disclosed. His daughter engages Kinsey to investigate his death.The story is only mildly interesting, a typical lightweight mystery. None of the secondary characters are developed or attractive. The writing is adequate but certainly not a plus. Just another mildly enjoyable, light read, which will be familiar to those familiar with th eseries.
    • 4/5
      Again, Sue Grafton has written a completely different type book from the 3 that precede it in the series. She always manages to come up with something new for Kinsey Millhone. The only flaw I find in the books is that Kinsey, at times, seems so patronizing about the normal things that regular people do in their day-to-day lives. I get that she's independent with no family ties and feels no need to do the socially acceptable things but she really seems to look down on those who do have family ties and like doing the socially acceptable things. That is the only thing that mars my enjoyment of an excellent set of mysteries. I'll keep reading them as long as Sue Grafton keeps writing them.
    • 3/5
      This book is a continuation of Sue Grafton's letter books. In D is for Deadbeat, the main character Kinsey Milhorne becomes a more dynamic character and it is a page-turner in the end. This book is an excellent read.
    • 4/5
      A client comes to Kinsey with an easy job but so easy Kinsey felt she was not being told the truth. The job was to deliver a $25,000 cheque to a 15 year old kid. The client who had given her a fictitious name turned out to be a chronic drunk with a sleazy background and he had just been released from jail. Where did he get $25,000? Why was he giving it to the kid?Soon Kinsey has a list of questionable people who are very happy when the client turns up dead. For Kinsey at first it was how to get her money from the dead client as his retainer cheque had been a phony. However, soon she wanted to find out who had killed him even though the police had thought his death was an accident. Of course those people also want the money as well.Complicated plot together with an interesting heroine who has her own personal issues to sort out made this a book I could not put down. As I was reading, I would ask why dosen't she just use her phone to head off that problem or to contact the police, but then I realize there were no cell phones in the late 1980's. Otherwise much of the social life of the characters could be taking place today.
    • 4/5
      My favorite of the Kinsey Millhones so far.
    • 4/5
      The ending of the this book is probably a good example of why I haven't really enjoyed this series. It was a very realistic ending but it was also depressing and more realistic than I want my escapist reading to be. The book is well-written and the mystery had me guessing almost right to the end.
    • 3/5
      This was okay....
    • 3/5
      Well written, as all of these books are. I'm not really thrilled with the ending. The final scene is very good; the road to get there felt a bit heavy on the plot fairy. None the less, I enjoyed it and will keep reading the series :)
    • 2/5
      I felt like this book underlined my previous review/thoughts on C is for Corpse. I like Millhone's sarcasm but find her judgement of the emotional pain of Daggett's victims off. Her inability to comprehend or have compassion for others seems to make her really blunder through this case in particular. I just find myself really hoping that there's more warmness in her character looming in the books ahead. I couldn't come away from the final scenes having a lot of heart for Millhone.
    • 4/5
      Another good, quick audiobook in this series by Sue Grafton. It's fun to listen to while I am crocheting or playing games or walking.
    • 3/5
      Find a person. Kinsey gets asked to track a child, but her client doen't pay his bills and by the time she's found him, he's died. Kinsey continues to investigate anyway, amoung the poorer areas of town.Continues the development of Kinsey's character and life. An average read for Kinsey, no obvious plot holes and a decent twist at the end. The series body count is already unbelievably high though.
    • 3/5
      Sue Grafton is a crime fiction writer with one series to her name: the alphabet murders, starring female PI Kinsey Milhone. After reaching ‘G is for gumshoe’ she was able to give up her day job writing screenplays. So far she has written 22 books in the series (up to ‘V is for vengeance’) and she has stated that the final book will be called ‘Z is for zero’. Although this is a writer one of my friends had previously recommended, I always felt the titles were actually rather off-putting and it took the author becoming a book group read for me to finally open this book, which had sat on my shelf for many years. Could it be better than the rather dull title suggested?The premiseAlvin Limardo hires Kinsey Milhone to deliver a cheque to a young boy. The job seems like easy money, but when Kinsey’s pay check bounces she sets out to find Limardo and discovers that he’s really a drunk called John Daggett who was fresh out of prison – and he’s now dead. Although the police think his death was accidental, Kinsey’s not so sure: it seems unlikely that a man with so many enemies would die by accident…My thoughtsI didn’t find the premise of this crime story particularly interesting and the reading experience lived up to that lack of expectation. It doesn’t help that Daggett is such an unpleasant character: even Kinsey wonders what she’s doing bothering to investigate his fate. It isn’t clear that a crime has been committed until over half way through the story (and even then it could still be an accident), which meant that I struggled to care about the investigation – which is meant to be the focus of any decent crime novel in my opinion.So what is the focus here? Kinsey Milhone. Writing in the first person, Grafton quickly introduces readers to Kinsey on the first page of the first chapter. We learn that she’s a PI, that she’s writing after the events of the story she’s about to tell, and a bit about her character. Obviously, when a series has already run to 22 books and you’re about to read the fourth, it’s obvious that nothing too terrible can befall your protagonist. When they tell you that this case started because they didn’t want to gain a reputation for letting clients have freebies, and this is the major element of the case they prioritise, it appears that nothing even a little bit bad can happen to them. While Kinsey is a perfectly likeable and sympathetic protagonist – she just wants to make her money and get on with her life – I wanted a protagonist I could fear for to make the narrative more gripping. No matter how unsavoury the characters this PI spoke to were, I never had any sense that she might find herself in danger and, for me, this meant that the book was very easy to put down and not pick up for a while – it wasn’t gripping.However, it was a quite pleasant, gentle read. I thought the choice of first person narration worked well as Kinsey is quite personable and her voice often lends events a faintly comic perspective. In some ways, this book reminded me of Janet Evanovich’s number crime series starring comically inept Stephanie Plum – except that Kinsey knows what she’s doing. Her contacts at the police station are helpful and she gradually puts the pieces of the case together using research and the conviction that her interviewees know more than they’re letting on. Although there are no stunning twists or startling discoveries, there are sufficient plot developments to keep the plotline developing; whether there’s enough to keep readers really engaged is another question. The evidence is rather thin and takes a lot of chasing. Ultimately, it is hard to see how Kinsey can really make a case of what she’s found.The ending is in keeping with the characters and settings established in the rest of the book. In this world, life is generally rather harsh and unfair. Some readers may find the ending a little sad as it really reinforces this idea. There is a full explanation of events offered which should please readers who like everything to be wrapped up neatly. There is a very short epilogue so the ending could feel a little abrupt, but in fact it felt like a natural finishing point to the story; there was nothing further a reader needed to know or see.I read this as a standalone book rather than reading it as part of a series and felt that it worked well. There is a very brief introduction to Kinsey on the first page and there are a couple of other characters who are clearly series regulars, but I did not feel that I needed more back-story. The story keeps within its boundaries and there are no big inducements to read the next in the series. I like this approach because I feel it means the author is trusting that their story telling abilities will bring the reader back, rather than relying on a big hook. Regular readers will probably find the developments in Kinsey’s love life interesting. Personally, I was not really interested in these developments but found that this was not a problem as they did not get a lot of ‘screen time’ in the story. Interestingly, Grafton originally tried her hand at novel writing but had limited success. After that she spent 15 years writing screenplays for television films. I definitely think this experience has influenced her writing style: she describes scenes in just the right amount of detail so that they are conveyed vividly to the reader but ensuring that the reader does not become bogged down in irrelevant descriptive detail. This was a feature of her writing I really enjoyed and I could imagine this book being adapted successfully for TV. However, don’t expect it on your screens anytime soon: after 15 years involved in the industry, Grafton is not interested in turning her books into films and has apparently barred her children from doing so after she has died.ConclusionsI found this an easy, pleasant read despite the darkness of the characters’ lives. Kinsey’s narration is mildly enjoyable, as is Grafton’s descriptive style. While the plot is a little thin and the crime could not be described as gripping there is sufficient interest to reach the end of the storyline which fits well with what has gone before. There are several suitable twists and turns as the plot develops and the reader is able to solve the crime with Kinsey: there are no extra revelations at the end that mean the reader could never have solved the mystery. Personally, I found this an unmemorable read and I won’t be seeking out another book in the series anytime soon. However, it was a mildly satisfying read and if I came across one, in a holiday cottage for instance, I would be happy to curl up with it.The story was first published in 1986 but it didn’t feel particularly dated. My copy is quite old so it has an RRP of £4.99, which feels like quite good value for 229 pages written in small font. Newer copies have an RRP of between £7-9 which feels a little too pricey for something so simple. This isn’t a book I would reread for the pleasure of the writing or to look at how it all fit together; if I reread it at all it would be in years to come when I’ve forgotten the plot completely. For that reason, unless you’re a keen fan of this series, I would recommend purchasing or borrowing a second hand copy, which is available cheaply from the usual places.
    • 5/5
      This was another good mystery in the series. I've been reading these mysteries as a break from other series. One of the things I like about them is they are a product of their time. The 1980s -- research required legwork, cell phones weren't connecting us to the world, and desktop computers were expensive and rare. So it made sense to hire a private investigator to do the research and legwork.There's one thing to remember about this series -- they aren't "cozy mysteries." There aren't a lot of warm, fuzzy characters. There are a good number of scumbags. The scumbags and unpleasant people abound in this book. Another thing to keep in mind is the author usually plays fair with the reader for the denouement. The bad guy isn't Sally's third cousin twice removed who happened to be in town that night and neither Kinsey nor the readers had prior knowledge of the person's existence. So the upshot is that I thoroughly enjoyed the book, was surprised by the reveal, and am ordering the next book in the series. What more do you want? If you like PI mysteries, you can dive right in at any point, although these do mention past events. I think you'll like the books if you like series mysteries that aren't "cozy."
    • 5/5
      I think I'm changing my middle initial to B for blindsided. For the second time this year, a novel took me off guard. D is for Deadbeat did just that and I'd even venture to say this book in the ABC series has been the best so far.It starts off with an ex-con wanting a cashier's check for $25,000 delivered to a 15 year old boy. Before Kinsey can deliver the check, the deadbeat is murdered and the suspects are numerous. Could the deadbeat's sins of the past have played into it or maybe some under the table drug deals in prison has some revenge minded criminals seeking their cash back? Hmm. Definitely worth the time to read this one and find out.
    • 5/5
      once again the author has you thinking and trying to figure out who done it. this time i didnt figure it out but loved the twist
    • 3/5
      ***This is a project of e-reading Grafton's series -- I started reading these back in the 1980s and would read each release as they came out over the years. To prevent spoilers, I will not attempt to summarize in detail. ***A bit less memorable than A - C, which may be why “whodunnit” didn‘t come back to me until near the end in this re-read.
    • 4/5
      The Kinsey Millhone mysteries continue to improve as the series progresses. Grafton is dedicated to realism in her novels, and she focuses on the little details (grocery shopping, eating dinner, the barriers Kinsey faces) to create the proper perspective. In previous novels these details were a bit tedious, but Grafton finds a nice balance of day-to-day and suspense in 'D' is for Deadbeat.

    Book preview

    "D" is for Deadbeat - Sue Grafton

    1

    Later, I found out his name was John Daggett, but that’s not how he introduced himself the day he walked into my office. Even at the time, I sensed that something was off, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. The job he hired me to do seemed simple enough, but then the bum tried to stiff me for my fee. When you’re self-employed, you can’t afford to let these things slide. Word gets out and first thing you know, everybody thinks you can be had. I went after him for the money and the next thing I knew, I was caught up in events I still haven’t quite recovered from.

    My name is Kinsey Millhone. I’m a private investigator, licensed by the state of California, operating a small office in Santa Teresa, which is where I’ve lived all my thirty-two years. I’m female, self-supporting, single now, having been married and divorced twice. I confess I’m sometimes testy, but for the most part I credit myself with an easygoing disposition, tempered (perhaps) by an exaggerated desire for independence. I’m also plagued with the sort of doggedness that makes private investigation a viable proposition for someone with a high school education, certification from the police academy, and a constitutional inability to work for anyone else. I pay my bills on time, obey most laws, and I feel that other people should do likewise . . . out of courtesy, if nothing else. I’m a purist when it comes to justice, but I’ll lie at the drop of a hat. Inconsistency has never troubled me.

    It was late October, the day before Halloween, and the weather was mimicking autumn in the Midwest—clear and sunny and cool. Driving into town, I could have sworn I smelled woodsmoke in the air and I half expected the leaves to be turning yellow and rust. All I actually saw were the same old palm trees, the same relentless green everywhere. The fires of summer had been contained and the rains hadn’t started yet. It was a typical California unseason, but it felt like fall and I was responding with inordinate good cheer, thinking maybe I’d drive up the pass in the afternoon to the pistol range, which is what I do for laughs.

    I’d come into the office that Saturday morning to take care of some bookkeeping chores—paying personal bills, getting out my statements for the month. I had my calculator out, a Redi-Receipt form in the typewriter, and four completed statements lined up, addressed and stamped, on the desk to my left. I was so intent on the task at hand that I didn’t realize anyone was standing in the doorway until the man cleared his throat. I reacted with one of those little jumps you do when you open the evening paper and a spider runs out. He apparently found this amusing, but I was having to pat myself on the chest to get my heart rate down again.

    I’m Alvin Limardo, he said. Sorry if I startled you.

    That’s all right, I said, I just had no idea you were standing there. Are you looking for me?

    If you’re Kinsey Millhone, I am.

    I got up and shook hands with him across the desk and then suggested that he take a seat. My first fleeting impression had been that he was a derelict, but on second glance, I couldn’t find anything in particular to support the idea.

    He was in his fifties, too gaunt for good health. His face was long and narrow, his chin pronounced. His hair was an ash gray, clipped short, and he smelled of citrus cologne. His eyes were hazel, his gaze remote. The suit he wore was an odd shade of green. His hands seemed huge, fingers long and bony, the knuckles enlarged. The two inches of narrow wrist extending, cuffless, from his coat sleeves suggested shabbiness though his clothing didn’t really look worn. He held a slip of paper which he’d folded twice, and he fiddled with that self-consciously.

    What can I do for you? I asked.

    I’d like for you to deliver this. He smoothed out the piece of paper then and placed it on my desk. It was a cashier’s check drawn on a Los Angeles bank, dated October 29, and made out to someone named Tony Gahan for twenty-five thousand dollars.

    I tried not to appear as surprised as I felt. He didn’t look like a man with money to spare. Maybe he’d borrowed the sum from Gahan and was paying it back. You want to tell me what this is about?

    He did me a favor. I want to say thanks. That’s all it is.

    It must have been quite a favor, I said. Do you mind if I ask what he did?

    He showed me a kindness when I was down on my luck.

    What do you need me for?

    He smiled briefly. An attorney would charge me a hundred and twenty dollars an hour to handle it. I’m assuming you’d charge considerably less.

    So would a messenger service, I said. It’s cheaper still if you do it yourself. I wasn’t being a smart-mouth about it. I really didn’t understand why he needed a private detective.

    He cleared his throat. I tried that, but I’m not entirely certain of Mr. Gahan’s current address. At one time, he lived on Stanley Place, but he’s not there now. I went by this morning and the house is empty. It looks like it hasn’t been lived in for a while. I want someone to track him down and make sure he gets the money. If you can estimate what that might run me, I’ll pay you in advance.

    That depends on how elusive Mr. Gahan turns out to be. The credit bureau might have a current address, or the DMV. A lot of inquiries can be done by phone, but they still take time. At thirty bucks an hour, the fee does mount up.

    He took out a checkbook and began to write out a check. Two hundred dollars?

    Let’s make it four. I can always refund the balance if the charges turn out to be less, I said. In the meantime, I’ve got a license to protect so this better be on the up and up. I’d be happier if you’d tell me what’s going on.

    This was where he hooked me, because what he said was just offbeat enough to be convincing. Liar that I am, it still didn’t occur to me that there could be so much falsehood mixed in with the truth.

    I got into trouble with the law awhile back and served some time. Tony Gahan was helpful to me just before I was arrested. He had no idea of my circumstances so he wasn’t an accessory to anything, nor would you be. I feel indebted.

    Why not take care of it yourself?

    He hesitated, almost shyly I thought. "It’s sort of like that Charles Dickens book, Great Expectations. He might not like having a convicted felon for a benefactor. People have strange ideas about ex-cons."

    What if he won’t accept an anonymous donation?

    You can return the check in that case and keep the fee.

    I shifted restlessly in my chair. What’s wrong with this picture, I asked myself. Where’d you get the money if you’ve been in jail?

    Santa Anita. I’m still on parole and I shouldn’t be playing the ponies at all, but I find it hard to resist. That’s why I’d like to pass the money on to you. I’m a gambling man. I can’t have that kind of cash around or I’ll piss it away, if you’ll pardon my French. He closed his mouth then and looked at me, waiting to see what else I might ask. Clearly, he didn’t want to volunteer more than was necessary to satisfy my qualms, but he seemed amazingly patient. I realized later, of course, that his tolerance was probably the function of his feeding me so much bullshit. He must have been entertained by the game he was playing. Lying is fun. I can do it all day myself.

    What was the felony? I asked.

    He dropped his gaze, addressing his reply to his oversized hands, which were folded in his lap. I don’t think that pertains. This money is clean and I came by it honestly. There’s nothing illegal about the transaction if that’s what’s worrying you.

    Of course it worried me, but I wondered if I was being too fastidious. There was nothing wrong with his request on the face of it. I chased the proposition around in my head with caution, wondering what Tony Gahan had done for Limardo that would net him this kind of payoff. None of my business, I supposed, as long as no laws had been broken in the process. Intuition was telling me to turn this guy down, but it happens that the rent on my apartment was due the next day. I had the money in my checking account, but it seemed providential to have a retainer drop in my lap unexpectedly. In any event, I didn’t see a reason to refuse. All right, I said.

    He nodded once, pleased. Good.

    I sat and watched while he finished signing his name to the check. He tore it out and pushed it toward me, tucking the checkbook into the inner pocket of his suit coat. My address and telephone number are on that in case you need to get in touch.

    I pulled a standard contract form out of my desk drawer and took a few minutes to fill it in. I got his signature and then I made a note of Tony Gahan’s last known address, a house in Colgate, the township just north of Santa Teresa. I was already feeling some low-level dread, wishing I hadn’t agreed to do anything. Still, I’d committed myself, the contract was signed, and I figured I’d make the best of it. How much trouble could it be, thought I.

    He stood up and I did too, moving with him as he walked toward the door. With both of us on our feet, I could see how much taller he was than I . . . maybe six-four to my five-foot-six. He paused with his hand on the knob, gazing down at me with the same remote stare.

    One other thing you might need to know about Tony Gahan, he said.

    What’s that?

    He’s fifteen years old.

    I stood there and watched Alvin Limardo move off down the hall. I should have called him back, folks. I should have known right then that it wasn’t going to turn out well. Instead I closed the office door and returned to my desk. On impulse, I opened the French doors and went out on the balcony. I scanned the street below, but there was no sign of him. I shook my head, dissatisfied.

    I locked the cashier’s check in my file cabinet. When the bank opened on Monday, I’d put it in my safe deposit box until I located Tony Gahan and then turn it over to him. Fifteen?

    At noon, I closed up the office and went down the back stairs to the parking lot, where I retrieved my VW, a decaying sedan with more rust than paint. This is not the sort of vehicle you’d choose for a car chase, but then most of what a P.I. does for a living isn’t that exciting anyway. I’m sometimes reduced to serving process papers, which gets hairy now and then, but much of the time I do preemployment background checks, skip-tracing, or case-and-trial preparation for a couple of attorneys here in town. My office is provided by California Fidelity Insurance, a former employer of mine. The company headquarters is right next door and I still do sporadic investigations for them in exchange for a modest two rooms (one inner, one outer) with a separate entrance and a balcony overlooking State Street.

    I went by the post office and dropped the mail in the box and then I stopped by the bank and deposited Alvin Limardo’s four hundred dollars in my checking account.

    Four business days later, on a Thursday, I got a letter from the bank, informing me that the check had bounced. According to their records, Alvin Limardo had closed out his account. In proof of this, I was presented with the check itself stamped across the face with the sort of officious looking purple ink that makes it clear the bank is displeased.

    So was I.

    My account had been debited the four hundred dollars and I was charged an additional three bucks, apparently to remind me, in the future, not to deal with deadbeats. I picked up the phone and called Alvin Limardo’s number in Los Angeles. A disconnect. I’d been canny enough to ignore the search for Tony Gahan until the check cleared, so it wasn’t as if I’d done any work to date. But how was I going to get the check replaced? And what was I going to do with the twenty-five grand in the meantime? By then, the cashier’s check was tucked away in my safe deposit box, but it was useless to me and I didn’t want to proceed with delivery until I knew I’d be paid. In theory, I could have dropped Alvin Limardo a note, but it might have come bouncing back at me with all the jauntiness of his rubber check, and then where would I be? Crap. I was going to have to drive down to L.A. One thing I’ve learned about collections—the faster you move, the better your chances are.

    I looked up his street address in my Thomas Guide to Los Angeles Streets. Even on the map, it didn’t look like a nice neighborhood. I checked my watch. It was then 10:15. It was going to take me ninety minutes to reach L.A., probably another hour to locate Limardo, chew him out, get the check replaced, and grab a bite of lunch. Then I’d have to drive ninety minutes back, which would put me in the office again at 3:30 or 4:00. Well, that wasn’t too bad. It was tedious, but necessary, so I decided I might as well quit bellyaching and get on with it.

    By 10:30, I’d gassed up my car and I was on the road.

    2

    I left the Ventura Freeway at Sherman Oaks, taking the San Diego Freeway south as far as Venice Boulevard. I exited, turning right at the bottom of the off-ramp. According to my calculations, the address I wanted was somewhere close. I doubled back toward Sawtelle, the street that hugs the freeway on a parallel route.

    Once I saw the building, I realized that I’d spotted the rear of it from the freeway as I passed. It was painted the color of Pepto-Bismol and sported a sagging banner of Day-Glo orange that said NOW RENTING. The building was separated from the roadway by a concrete rain wash and protected from speeding vehicles by a ten-foot cinderblock wall sprayed with messages for passing motorists. Spiky weeds had sprung up along the base of the wall and trash had accumulated like hanging ornaments in the few hearty bushes that managed to survive the gas fumes. I had noted the building because it seemed so typical of L.A.: bald, cheaply constructed, badly defaced. There was something meanspirited about its backside, and the entrance turned out to be worse.

    The street was largely made up of California bungalows, small two-bedroom houses of wood and stucco with ragged yards and no trees. Most of them had been painted in pastel hues, odd shades of turquoise and mauve, suggestive of discount paints that hadn’t quite covered the color underneath. I found a parking space across the street and locked my car, then crossed to the apartment complex.

    The building was beginning to disintegrate. The stucco looked mealy and dry, the aluminum window frames pitted and buckling. The wrought-iron gate near the front had been pulled straight out of the supporting wall, leaving holes large enough to stick a fist into. Two apartments at street level were boarded up. The management had thoughtfully provided a number of garbage bins near the stairs, without (apparently) paying for adequate trash removal services. A big yellow dog was scratching through this pile of refuse with enthusiasm, though all he seemed to net for his efforts was a quarter moon of pizza. He trotted off, the rim of crust clenched in his jaws like a bone.

    I moved into the shelter of the stairs. Most of the mailboxes had been ripped out and mail was scattered in the foyer like so much trash. According to the address on the face of the check, Limardo lived in apartment 26, which I surmised was somewhere above. There were apparently forty units, only a few marked with the occupants’ names. That seemed curious to me. In Santa Teresa, the post office won’t even deliver junk mail unless a box is provided, clearly marked, and in good repair. I pictured the postman, emptying out his mail pouch like a wastepaper basket, escaping on foot then before the inhabitants of the building swarmed over him like

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1