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Wednesday afternoon, April 6, 1988
My name is Kinsey Millhone. I'm a private detective, female, age thirty-seven, with my thirty-eighth birthday coming up in a month. Having been married and divorced twice, I'm now happily single and expect to remain so for life. I have no children thus far and I don't anticipate bearing any. Not only are my eggs getting old, but my biological clock wound down a long time ago. I suppose there's always room for one of life's little surprises, but that's 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 Sheriff's 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 PI's 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 I'm 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. I'd apparently turned the dead bolt to the locked position when I'd come back from lunch. I let him in, saying, "Sorry about that. I must have locked up after myself without being aware of it."
"You're 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. I'm 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 baby's. 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 couldn't imagine what sort of problem he'd have that would require my services.
(c) 2009 by Sue Grafton
It’s almost her 38th birthday, which might explain why Kinsey Millhone is annoyed to learn that the very young-looking guy seeking her help is actually 27. Once the boyish Michael Sutton starts pleading his case, though, Kinsey decides to take it on...for one day. As Sutton explains it, he’s had a memory flashback to when he was six and stumbled upon the grave of a little girl whose disappearance is back in the news, all these years later. But as Kinsey’s investigation unfolds, she discovers that her client has a poor track record when it comes to telling the truth. Could it be that the boy who cried wolf in the past is getting his kicks out of telling another whopper? Sue Grafton’s U is for Undertow is unputdownable!
Lrg Print Hardcover: 736 pages
Publisher: Putnam Pub Group/Mbr of Penguin Put ( December 01, 2009 )
Item #: 46-7489
ISBN: 9781615236800
Product Dimensions: 5.5 x 8.25 x 1.18 inches
