P is for Peril (A Kinsey Millhone Novel)

P is for Peril (A Kinsey Millhone Novel)

Private investigator Kinsey Millhone gets entangled in a minefield of a missing persons case in this thriller that “crackles with suspense and pops with surprises” ( Newsday ). Kinsey Millhone never sees it coming. She is mired in the case of a doctor who disappeared, his angry ex-wife, and beautiful current one-a case that is full of unfinished business, unfinished homes, and people drifting in and out of their own lives. Then Kinsey gets a shock. A man she finds attractive is hiding a fatal secret—and now a whole lot of beauty, money, and lies are proving to be a fatal distraction from what Kinsey should have seen all along: a killer standing right before her eyes... Praise for P is for Peril “Grafton writes with assurance, and her ability to mix this stew of self-important medical people, rebellious teens, and good-natured neighbors speaks to her ability to create a satisfyin read.”— Boston Globe “Grafton cooks up scenarios that get your wheels turning...She'll see to it that you’re up half the night reading to the end.”— San Francisco Chronicle “Sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued [Kinsey Millhone] is as capable and acerbic as ever.”— The Wall Street Journal “Engrossing...If you haven't tried [Grafton] yet, you're missing a sterling example of the mystery riter's craft at its low-key, discuplined best.”— Entertainment Weekly More Praise for Sue Grafton and the Alphabet Series “I’m going to miss Kinsey Millhone. Ever since the first of Sue Grafton’s Alphabet mysteries,  A Is For Alibi , came out in 1982, Kinsey has been a good friend and the very model of an independent woman, a gutsy Californian P.I. rocking a traditional man’s job...it’s Kinsey herself who keeps this series so warm and welcoming. She’s smart, she’s resourceful, and she’s tough enough to be sensitive on the right occasions.”— New York Times Book Review “The consistent quality and skillful innovations in this alphabet series justify all the praise these books have received over the past 35 years.”— Wall Street Journal “A superb storyteller.”— Publishers Weekly “Grafton’s endless resourcefulness in varying her pitches in this landmark series, graced by her trademark self-deprecating humor, is one of the seven wonders of the genre.”— Kirkus Reviews “Grafton is a writer of many strengths—crisp characterizations, deft plotting, and eloquent dialogue among them—and she has kept her long-running alphabet mystery series fresh and each new release more welcome than the last.”— Louisville Courier-Journal “[Grafton’s] ability to give equal weight to the story of the detective and the detective story sets her apart in the world of crime fiction.”— Richmond Times-Dispatch #1  New York Times  bestselling author  Sue Grafton  first introduced Kinsey Millhone in the Alphabet Series in 1982. Soon after, both writer and heroine became icons and international bestsellers. Ms. Grafton was a writer who consistently broke the bonds of genre while never writing the same book twice. Named a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America, her awards and honors included the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Private Eye Writers of America, the Ross Macdonald Literary Award, the Cartier Diamond Dagger Award from Britain's Crime Writers' Association, the Lifetime Achievement Award from Malice Domestic, a Lifetime Achievement Award from Bouchercon, three Shamus Awards, and three Anthony Awards—including the first two ever awarded. She passed away in December 2017. 1 THE HOUSE ON Old Reservoir Road appeared to be in the final phases of construction. I spotted the site as I rounded the curve, recognizing the unfinished structure from Fiona Purcell’s description. To my right, I could see a portion of the reservoir for which the road was named. Brunswick Lake fills the bottom of a geological bowl, a spring-fed body that supplied the town with drinking water for many years. In 1953 a second, larger catch basin was established, and now Brunswick is little more than an irregular blue splotchlet on maps of the area. Swimming and boating are forbidden, but seasonally the migrating water birds rest on the placid surface as they make their way south. The surrounding hills are austere, gentle swells rising to the mountains that mark the northernmost boundary of the Santa Teresa city limits.      I parked my VW on the gravel berm and crossed the two-lane road. The steeply pitched lot was still bare of landscaping and consisted entirely of raw dirt and boulders with a dusting of weeds taking hold. At street level, a big commercial Dumpster was piled high with debris. A small grove of signs planted in the yard announced the names of the building contractor, the painting contractor, and the architect, though Mrs. Purcell had been quick to assure me by phone that she’d drawn up the plans herself. The design—if that’s what you want to call it—would have been approved by the Department of Defense: an implacable series of concrete boxes, staunch and unadorned, st