Sue Grafton - U Is For Undertow

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It's April, 1988, a month before Kinsey Millhone's thirty-eighth birthday, and she's alone in her office doing paperwork when a young man arrives unannounced. He has a preppy air about him and looks as if he'd be carded if he tried to buy booze, but Michael Sutton is twenty-seven, an unemployed college dropout. Twenty-one years earlier, a four-year-old girl disappeared. A recent reference to her kidnapping has triggered a flood of memories. Sutton now believes he stumbled on her lonely burial when he was six years old. He wants Kinsey's help in locating the child's remains and finding the men who killed her. It's a long shot but he's willing to pay cash up front, and Kinsey agrees to give him one day. As her investigation unfolds, she discovers Michael Sutton has an uneasy relationship with the truth. In essence, he's the boy who cried wolf. Is his current story true or simply one more in a long line of fabrications?
Grafton moves the narrative between the eighties and the sixties, changing points of view, building multiple subplots, and creating memorable characters. Gradually, we see how they all connect. But at the beating center of the novel is Kinsey Millhone, sharp-tongued, observant, a loner – 'a heroine,' said The New York Times Book Review, 'with foibles you can laugh at and faults you can forgive.'

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Creed said, “Like I was telling Jon before you got here, my grandfather left me money in his will and my parents are refusing to let me have it. They claim I can’t collect until I’m thirty. How fucked up is that?”

Destiny said, “His dad is such a butt. Creed’s entitled to the money so what gives him a say in the matter one way or the other?”

“How much are we talking about?” Walker asked.

Jon said, “Forty grand.”

Walker said, “Groovy. So what’s the deal? Was it left in trust?”

“Technically, but that’s bullshit. Dad could fork it over. He’s got money up the wazoo.”

“What do you need forty grand for, you planning a cruise?” Jon asked, his tone mild.

Creed and Destiny exchanged a look, and Creed said, “We’re buying a farm. We put a thousand dollars down and we need the rest by the end of the month.”

Jon laughed. “A farm? You’re shittin’ me.”

Creed scowled. “What’s wrong with that? We’re planning to work the land. Raise chickens and goats and sheep and like that.”

Destiny said, “I’ll learn to make soap and I can sell my macramé. We’ll be completely self-sufficient. It’ll be way cool.”

“You’re not buying a farm,” Jon said. “What the hell are you talking about? How do you propose to ‘work the land’ when you don’t know jackshit about anything?” He’d developed a very low opinion of Creed and loved egging him on. Sometimes Destiny sided with her boyfriend and sometimes she turned on him, mocking him as Jon did. Today she was standing by her man.

She said, “We’re talking about a commune, dickwad. Don’t be such a prick. Everyone will pitch in.”

Jon could barely suppress a smile. “Oh, excuse me. A commune. Well, that explains it.”

Destiny bristled. “God, Jon. Who the fuck asked you? Why are you always trying to bring us down? Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Hey, Des, come on. Why not tell ’em the truth?” Creed said.

“Because it’s none of their business!”

“What isn’t?” Walker asked.

“Nothing. Just drop it,” she said.

Creed ignored her. “We’re immigrating.”

“Knock it off, Creed. You’ve said enough.”

“Where to?” Jon asked.

“ Canada.”

Destiny pushed Creed sideways. “You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to keep your big mouth shut.”

“Baby, cool it. Would you just cool it? These are friends of ours, okay?” Creed turned to Jon. “I got my draft notice three weeks ago. We were having mail forwarded to a post office box in Oakland and there it was. I knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with me. Short of shooting off my toe or claiming to be a bed wetter, my proverbial ass is grass. I’m cannon fodder. Big time.”

Walker said, “So you’re heading to Canada? Far out.”

“I thought Sweden was the haven of choice,” Jon remarked.

“ Nah, Canada ’s easier. We take the old yellow school bus and head north. We don’t even need passports.”

“The forty’s to cover us while we apply for citizenship,” she added.

Jon’s gaze shifted to her. “What if you get caught?”

Destiny flashed a look at him. “Man, you are bumming me out. What’s all the negativity about? I’m getting bad vibes from you.”

“I’m not putting you down. I’m just asking what you’ll do if they catch up with you,” he said.

“We don’t need your counsel, shitbird. You’re eighteen years old.”

“You think Creed’s mom and dad are going to buy your cock-and-bull story about a farm?”

“That’s it, Jon. You’re outta here. We don’t have to put up with your shit,” she said.

He smiled. “So okay, ignore me, but I’m telling you the truth. Creed’s parents aren’t stupid. You talk about starting a commune, they’ll laugh in your face.”

Creed said, “They already did when we first brought it up.”

“You won’t get a cent unless you come up with something better than that.”

“Maybe we have. We’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Creed!”

“What’s wrong with running it by them?”

“Great. And have ’em rat us out? That’ll be a big help.”

Irritated, Walker said, “Get off it. We’re not snitches.”

“I’ll just bet.”

Jon watched her with interest. “Now you got me curious.”

Creed took two quick hits from the joint and passed it to Jon. “Destiny came up with this. We could make it look like Rain’s been abducted and someone’s holding her for ransom. Dad would fall all over himself, forking up the dough.”

“So how much ransom? Forty thousand? That’ll fool ’em,” Jon said.

Destiny said, “Shit, Jon, would you lighten up? We’re still working out the details, okay? We’re tossing ideas around. We figure she’s our kid so it’s not like we’re really doing any harm.”

Jon drew on the joint, making the tip glow a bright red before he passed it on to her. “I thought his folks adopted her.”

“Technically, sure, but she’s still our kid,” she said.

Creed said, “Yeah, Jon. You’re missing the point. We scare ’em shit-less, wait a couple days, and then hit ’em good like it’s a one-time deal. Pay and you get the kid back. You don’t pay, she’s dead. They’ll come through in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”

Destiny brightened, warming to the subject. “It’ll look like someone’s snatched her, only she won’t be in danger.”

“Well, that sucks, right there,” Jon said.

“Jesus…”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m playing devil’s advocate. What if they call the cops or the FBI? I sure as shit would. You’ll have the law swarming all over you.”

“Not if we set it up right.”

“Which would be what?” he asked.

“We’re brainstorming. I’m not saying we’ve got all the answers,” she said.

“You don’t have any answers.”

Walker cut in. “Where you going to keep her?”

Destiny considered the issue and then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a motel.”

“Who’s going to babysit the kid while the two of you walk around pretending to be innocent?”

“Maybe we’ll be gone by then.”

“Then how would you collect the dough?”

“We’d find a way,” she said, irritated with his persistence.

Jon said, “Why don’t you do the obvious? Tell them you have her stashed somewhere and you won’t turn her over unless they make it worth your while. They don’t pony up, they’ll never see her again.”

“I don’t think my dad would go for it,” Creed said. “So far he’s turned us down cold.”

“Don’t ask for forty. Ask for fifteen. That’s enough to get you out of the country.”

“Yeah, but what if they balk?” she asked. “I mean, what if they tell us to take her and shove off. Then what?”

“Then I guess you get your daughter back,” Jon said.

It was the weekend after that that their relationship changed. The last two weeks of June, Walker went to Hawaii on vacation with his folks. With Walker gone, Jon was at loose ends. The first couple of days he hung out at his place, watching TV. On day three he decided it was time to get out. He fired up his scooter and headed over to the Unruhs’, arriving just in time to see the family pulling out of the drive. Looked like Patrick at the wheel, Deborah in the front seat, and Creed, Rain, and Sky Dancer in the back. He wasn’t sure if Destiny was with them or not.

He parked the scooter and then peeked in the yellow school bus, which was empty. He could see her half-finished macramé lying in the grass. “Hey, Destiny? You here?” No response.

He shrugged and circled the house to the cabana, surprised at the pang of disappointment that shot through him.

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