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Wednesday afternoon, April 6, 1988

What fascinates me about life is that now and then the past rises up and declares itself Afterward, the sequence of events seems inevitable, but only because cause and effect have been aligned in advance It’s like a pattern of doht on a tabletop With the flick of your finger, the first tile topples into the second, which in turn tips into the third, setting inover its neighbor until all of theh I discount the notion of accidents Fate stitches together elements that seees you see how the bones are joined and everything connects

Here’s the odd part In my ten years as a private eye, this was the first case I ever uys Except at the end, of course

My nae thirty-seven, withbeen le and expect to remain so for life I have no children thus far and I don’t anticipate bearing any Not only aretio I suppose there’s always room for one of life’s little surprises, but that’s not the way to bet

I work solo out of a rented bungalow in Santa Teresa, California, a town of roughly 85,000 souls who generate sufficient crime to occupy the Santa Teresa Police Departhway Patrol, and the twenty-five or so local private investigators like me Movies and television shoould have you believe a PI’s job is dangerous, but nothing could be farther from the truthexcept, of course, on the rare occasions when someone tries to kill me Then I’m ever so happy my health insurance preely research, requiring intuition, tenacity, and ingenuity Most of es fro, with countless other matters in between My office is off the beaten path and I seldo at the door to ot up and peered around the corner to see who it was

Through the glass I saw a youngat the knob I’d apparently turned the dead bolt to the locked position when I’d co, “Sorry about that Iaware of it”

“You’re Ms Millhone?”

“Yes”

“Michael Sutton,” he said, extending his hand “Do you have time to talk?”

We shook hands “Sure Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks I’m fine”

I ushered hiistered his appearance in a series of quick takes Sli on top and cut short over his ears Solemn brown eyes, complexion as clear as a baby’s There was a prep school air about him: deck shoes without socks, sharply creased chinos, and a short-sleeve white dress shirt he ith a tie He had the body of a boy: narrow shoulders, narrow hips, and long, sh to be carded if he tried to buy booze I couldn’t iine what sort of problem he’d have that would require my services

I returned to my swivel chair and he settled in the chair on the other side of the desk I glanced atif I’d set up an appointotten it

He noticed the visual reference and said, “Detective Phillips at the police departave me your name and address I should have called first, but your office was close by I hope this isn’t an incon - venience”

“Not at all,” I said “My first name’s Kinsey, which you’re welcome to use You prefer Michael or Mike?”

“Most people call arten class, there were two other Michaels so the teacher used our last nauish us Boorman, Sutton, and Trautwein—like a law firm We’re still friends”

“Where was this?”

“Climp”

I said, “Ah” I should have guessed asAcadeh 12 Tuition starts at twelve grand for the little tykes and rises increrades I don’t knohere it tops out, but you could probably pick up a respectable college education for the same price All the students enrolled there referred to it as “Clih the proper appellation was just, like, sooo beside the point Watching him, I wondered if my blue-collar roots were as obvious to him as his upper-class status was to me