R Is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton Read Free Book Online

direction.
    "You here for me?"
    "That's right. I'm Kinsey Millhone," I said.
    "Great. I'm Reba Lafferty. Let's hit the friggin' road," she said as we shook hands.
    We walked to the car and for the next hour, that was the extent of our conversation.
    I prefer silence to small talk so the lack of chitchat wasn't awkward.
    I varied my route, catching Highway 5 south until it intersected the 101. A couple of times I thought of asking her a question, but I didn't think the ones that came to mind were any of my business.
Why'd you steal the money
and
How'd you screw it up and get caught
being foremost.
    It was Reba who finally broke the silence. "Pop told you why I was in?"
    "He said you took money, but that's all," I said. I noticed that I'd bypassed the word 'embezzlement,' as though it might be rude to name the crime that resulted in her prison term.
    She rested her head against the back of the seat. "He's a love. He deserves a lot better than me."
    "May I ask how old you are?"
    "Thirty-two."
    "No offense, but you look about twelve. How old was your dad when you were born?"
    "Fifty-six. My mother was twenty-one. There's a match made in heaven. No telling what her deal was. She dropped me like a litter of kittens and hit the road."
    "Does she keep in touch?"
    "Nope. I saw her once, when I was eight. We spent one day together – well, half a day. She took me to Ludlow Beach and watched me splash in the waves until my lips turned blue. We had lunch at that snack stand, you know the one near High Ridge Road?"
    "Know it well."
    "I had a milk shake and ate fried clams, which I haven't eaten since. I must have been hyper. I remember my stomach was full of butterflies from the minute I woke up, knowing she'd be there. We were on our way to the zoo when I got sick in the car and she ended up taking me home."
    "What'd she want?"
    "Who knows? Whatever it was, she hasn't wanted it since. Pop's been great, though. I'm lucky in that regard."
    "He feels guilty about you."
    She turned and looked at me. "How come? None of this is his fault."
    "He thinks he neglected you when you were young."
    "Oh. Well, he did, but what's that got to do with it? He made his choices and I made mine."
    "Yeah, but generally speaking, it's better to avoid the ones that are going to land you in jail."
    She smiled. "You didn't know me back then. I was either drunk or stoned and sometimes both."
    "How'd you hold down a job?"
    "I saved the drinking for nights and weekends. I smoked dope before and after work. I never did the hard stuff – heroin, crack, or speed. Those can really mess you up bad."
    "Didn't anyone ever notice you were stoned?"
    "My boss."
    "How'd you manage to take the money? Seems like that would necessitate a clear head."
    "Trust me, I was always clear about some things. Have you ever been in jail?"
    "I did an overnight once," I said, making it sound like an outing with my Girl Scout troop.
    "For what?"
    "Assaulting a cop and resisting arrest."
    She laughed. "Wow. Who'da thunk? You look like a real button-down type. I'll bet you cross the street with the light and never fudge the numbers on your tax return."
    "Well, true. Is that bad?"
    "No, it's not
bad.
It's just boring," she said. "Don't you ever want to cut loose? Take a risk and maybe blow yourself through the roof?"
    "I like my life as it is."
    "What a drag. I'd go nuts."
    "What makes me nuts is being out of control."
    "So what do you do for laughs?"
    "I don't know… I read a lot and I jog."
    She looked at me, waiting for the punch line. "That's
it?
You read a lot and
you jog?"
    I
laughed. "It does sound pathetic when you think of it."
    "Where do you hang out?"
    "I don't do any 'hanging out' as such, but if I want dinner or a glass of wine, I usually go to a tavern in my neighborhood called Rosie's. The owner's a mama bear, which means I can eat without being hassled by guys on the make."
    "You have a boyfriend?"
    "Not so's you'd notice," I said, slipping into the vernacular. Better not to let