By Sue Grafton
A tough-talking former cop, deepest investigator Kinsey Millhone has manage a modest detective company in a quiet nook of Santa Teresa, California. A twice-divorced loner with few own possessions and less own attachments, she’s obtained a delicate spot for underdogs and misplaced reasons. Eight years in the past, Nikki Fife used to be convicted of killing her philandering husband. Now she’s out on parole and wishes Kinsey’s aid to discover the true killer. If there is something that makes Kinsey suppose alive, it truly is enjoying at the facet. When her research turns up a moment corpse, extra suspects, and a brand new cause to kill, Kinsey discovers that the sting is closer—and sharper—than she imagined.
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Extra info for A is for Alibi (Kinsey Millhone Alphabet Mysteries, No. 1)
I'm a private investigator, licensed by the state of California. I'm thirty-two years old, twice divorced, no kids. The day before yesterday I killed someone and the fact weighs heavily on my mind. I'm a nice person and I have a lot of friends. My apartment is small but I like living in a cramped space. I've lived in trailers most of my life, but lately they've been getting too elaborate for my taste, so now I live in one room, a "bachelorette". I don't have pets. I don't have houseplants. I spend a lot of time on the road and I don't like leaving things behind.
Nikki was already reaching into her purse. She took out a checkbook and a pen. Even looking at it upside down, I could see that the check was for five thousand dollars. I admired the carelessness with which she dashed it off. She didn't even have to check her bank balance first. She pushed it across the table to me and I tucked it into my purse as though I disposed of such matters as casually as she. Rosie appeared again, this time with our dinner. She put a plate down in front of each of us and then stood there until we began to eat.
A lot of people apparently hated him: men for the price he extracted, women for the betrayal of their trust. He was thirty-nine years old when he died. That Nikki was accused, tried, and convicted was just a piece of bad luck. Except for cases that clearly involve a homicidal maniac, the police like to believe murders are committed by those we know and love, and most of the time they're right – a chilling thought when you sit down to dinner with a family of five. All those potential killers passing their plates.