P is for Peril (Kinsey Millhone 16)

"Sixteen."

"I take it your mom's not that fond of her. What's the problem?"

"Mom doesn't like anything I do."

"Why'd you leave school without permission?"

"How'd you know where I was going?" she asked, bypassing the issue of truancy.

"Your mother figured it out. When we get to a phone, I want you to call and tell her where you are. She's been worried sick." I didn't mention royally pissed off as well.

"Why don't you do it? You'll turn around and talk to her, anyway."

"Of course I will. You're a minor. I'm not going to contribute to your bad behavior." We drove for a block in silence. Then I said, "I don't get what's bugging you."

"I hate Fitch. That's what's bugging me, if it's any of your business."

"I thought you got sent to Fitch because you screwed up in public school."

"I hated it up here, too. Bunch of goof-offs and retards. Everybody was so dumb-I was bored to death. Classes were a joke. I've got better things to do."

We crossed State at the intersection and headed into a residential area called South Rockingham. "What's wrong with Fitch?"

"The girls are such snobs. All they care about is how much money their fat-ass daddies make."

"I thought you had friends."

"Well, I don't."

"What about Sherry?"

Leila stole a look at me. "What about her?"

"I'm just wondering how you enjoyed yourself in Malibu."

"Fine. It was fun."

"What about Emily?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"Your mom said you liked riding horses at her place."

"Emily's okay. She's not as bad as some."

"What else did you do?"

"Nothing. We made grilled cheese sandwiches."

The arrow on my bullshit meter zinged up into the red zone. I was much better at lying when I was Leila's age. "Here's my best guess. I'll bet you skipped both those visits and spent the weekend with Paulie."

She said, "Ha ha ha."

"Come on. 'Fess up. What difference does it make?"

"I don't have to respond if I don't want to."

"Leila, you asked me to keep my mouth shut. The least you could do is tell me the truth."

"So what if I saw Paulie? What's the big deal about that?"

"What about all the other weekends you were supposed to be off visiting classmates?"

Another sullen silence. I tried another tack. "How'd you two meet?"

"In Juvie."

"You were in Juvenile Hall? When was this?"

"A year ago July. Bunch of us got picked up."

"Doing what?"

"The cops said loitering and trespass, which is crap. We weren't doing anything, just hanging around."

"Where was this?"

"I don't know," she said, crossly. "Just some boarded-up old house."

"What time of day?"

"What are you, a district attorney? It was late, like two o'clock in the morning. Half the kids ran. Cops were all bent out of shape and took the rest of us in. Mom and Dow came and picked me up and they were pissed."

"What about Paulie? Was she in trouble with the law?"

Leila said, "You just missed my dad's street."

I slowed and pulled into the next driveway, then backed out. I retraced the half block to Gramercy and turned left. This section was only a block and a half long, a jumble of cheap cottages that might have once served as housing for itinerant pickers in the nearby avocado groves. The road here was unpaved and there were no sidewalks. I spotted one streetlight along the entire block. Leila pointed at a weathered A-frame sitting on a small dirt rise. It was the only structure of its kind-a funky wooden chalet among shacks. I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. "You want to see if he's there? I'd like to talk to him."

"What about?"

"Dr. Purcell, if it's all the same to you," I said.

Leila snatched open the door and reached for her backpack, which I snagged with one hand. "Leave that with me. I'll be happy to bring it in if he's home."

"Why can't I have it?"

"Insurance. I don't want to see you taking off on me. You're in enough trouble as it is."

She sighed, exasperated, but did as she was told. I decided to ignore the vigor with which she slammed the car door. I watched her hurry to the house along a gravel path. Rainwater streamed down the hillside, flattening the long strands of uncut grass. She reached the porch, which was protected by no more than a narrow inverted V of wood. She knocked on the door and then huddled with folded arms, staring back at me while she waited for him to respond. The place looked dark to me. She knocked again. She moved over to a front window, cupped her hands, and peered in. She knocked one more time and then splashed her way back to the car and let herself in. "He's probably coming right back. I know where he keeps the key so I can wait for him here."