By Sue Grafton
While Alvin Limardo walks into P.I. Kinsey Millhone's workplace, she smells undesirable information. He desires Kinsey to convey $25,000. The recipient: A fifteen-year-old boy. it is a uncomplicated topic. So basic that Kinsey wonders why he does not carry the money himself. She's nearly definite whatever is off. yet with hire due, Kinsey accepts Limardo's retainer opposed to her larger judgment…When Limardo's cost bounces, Kinsey discovers she's been had vast time. Alvin Limardo is de facto John Daggett--an ex-con with a consuming challenge, other halves in addition, and a slew of people that wish to see him useless. Now Kinsey is out 400 funds and in scorching pursuit of Daggett. while Daggett's corpse indicates up floating within the Santa Teresa surf, the law enforcement officials rule the dying an twist of fate. Kinsey thinks it is homicide. yet looking justice for a guy who every body appeared to despise goes to be much more durable than she bargained for--and what awaits her on the finish of the line is way extra hectic than she could've ever imagined…
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Additional info for D Is for Deadbeat (Kinsey Millhone Alphabet Mysteries, No. 4)
Whatever the surface appearances, most human beings come equipped with convoluted emotional machinery. With intimacy, the wreckage starts to show, damage rendered in the course of passions colliding like freight trains on the same track. I'd had enough of that over the years. I wasn't in any better shape than he was, so why complicate life? Two rings and the call was picked up. " "Hello, Jonah. " I smiled. " "Sure, no sweat," he said. I gave him both names and what little information I had. He took it down and said he'd get back to me.
He took me in at a glance, turning his attention then to the sculpture taking form in his hands. "You must be looking for Alvin Limardo," he said. "That's right," I said, startled. " He flashed a smile at me, showing perfect teeth, as snowy as the soap he carved. He tilted his face up at me, the injured eye creating the illusion of a wink. "Baby, you ain't live here. I know ever'body live here. And from the look on your face, you ain't thinkin' to rent. If you knew where you were going, you'd be headed straight there.
Got a pencil? , and a hasty rundown of his record, all of which I noted automatically. He'd picked up the name of Billy's parole officer, but the guy was out of the office and wouldn't be available until Monday afternoon. "Thanks. In the meantime, I'm nosing around on my own," I said. " He laughed and hung up. I put groceries away and then sat down at my desk, hauling out the little portable Smith-Corona I keep in the knee hole. I consigned the data Jonah'd given me to index cards and then sat and stared at it.