U Is for Undertow (Kinsey Millhone 21)

“What for?”

“I don’t know. She told me, but it went in one ear and out the other. It didn’t sound all that urgent.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her anything. I hung up on her.”

He thought about it, wondering what he’d missed. “What would a private investigator want with Dad?”

“Why are you asking me? I don’t have a clue.”

He stared at her, trying to make sense of what she’d said. “Did you get her name?”

“Millhone. I forget the first. Something odd.”

“Kinsey?”

“You remember her? I thought she was feeding me a line of bullshit.”

“Senior year we had a class together,” he said, distracted. “What did she want again?”

“Walker, I just told you. I have no idea. Something about a dog. She didn’t say anything more than that.”

The floor shifted under his feet. For a moment he thought there’d been a temblor. He put out his left hand and grabbed the counter with Carolyn looking on like he was losing it.

He murmured an excuse and left the house, not even sure later how he got to the car. He felt like he’d been walking, looking in the other direction, and slammed into a door. The shock was making the blood drain out of his head, taking his blood pressure down along with it. His body was shot through with a clamminess that carried nausea in its wake. The outside air helped. He leaned against the car, feeling shaken to the core.

Brent slammed down the trunk. “Are you all right, Mr. McNally?”

“I’m fine. Let’s get moving, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

Walker got in the backseat. Brent fired up the engine and was on the verge of pulling away when Carolyn called from the front door and then trotted down to the car. Walker lowered the rear window.

“You forgot the mail,” she said. She leaned down to look at him. “Are you all right? The way you bolted out of there, I thought you’d seen a ghost.”

Walker wanted to make a withering reply, but Brent was sitting in range and he didn’t want to make a scene. He took the mail and dropped it on the seat beside him. “Fuck you,” he said under his breath. He pushed the switch that rolled the window up so Carolyn was forced to yell through the glass.

“Fine. I’m sorry I asked.”

Brent drove along Ocean Way toward the stone pillars at the rear of Horton Ravine.

Walker said, “On my way back to the Pelican, I’d like to see my father. He’s at Valley Oaks. I’ll direct you once we get there.”

“No problem.”

Walker glanced out the window and realized they were passing Jon Corso’s house. Jon still lived in the sprawling two-story, gray-shingled monstrosity his father and stepmother had bought when Jon was sixteen. Walker hadn’t met Jon until their senior year at Santa Teresa High, but he’d heard plenty about the Amazing Mona and her three perfect daughters. Jon had confessed to screwing all three before each went off to college. The sisters were married now and living in the East with an assortment of kids. Two years before, when Lionel died of a heart attack, Mona packed up and moved to New York so she’d be closer to her girls and all the grandkids. She’d inherited the house and the bulk of Lionel’s estate. Jon’s inheritance was ten thousand dollars and a life interest in the studio apartment above the garage. Since the business with Mary Claire, Jon insisted that Walker keep his distance, so they’d never discussed the issue. Nonetheless, Walker knew to a certainty that Jon was still chafing at the paltry sum he’d been left. He earned staggering sums from the sales of his books, so it wasn’t about the money. It was the insult of it all, his father’s final slap in the face; game, set, and match to Mona. She was perfectly content to have Jon living at the house. The arrangement bound him to her. Walker was willing to bet she was still sticking it to him any way she could. Eventually she’d put the place on the market, but for the time being, it was a nice vacation spot when she or the girls felt like a jaunt to the West Coast.

The drive continued in silence. Occasionally Brent flicked a look in the rearview mirror. Walker leaned his head back against the seat. He was aware of Brent’s scrutiny but he made no remark. It wasn’t up to him to explain his complicated family life. How had this happened? Everything was fine. Everything was good, and then, in one swift stroke, he realized he was going under. An unseen force, subtle and relentless, had taken him unawares and now he was being dragged toward open water with no way back.