He called himself Alvin Limardo, and the job he had for Kinsey was
cut-and-dried: locate a kid who’d done him a favor and pass on a check
for $25,000. It was only later, after he’d stiffed her for her retainer,
that Kinsey found out his name was Daggett—John Daggett, ex-con, inveterate liar, chronic drunk, and dead. The cops called it an
accident: death by drowning. Kinsey wasn’t so sure.
Pulled into the detritus of a dead man’s life, Kinsey soon realizes that Daggett had an awful lot of enemies. There’s the daughter who grew up with a
cheating drunk for a father and the wife who’s become a religious nut
in response to an intolerable marriage. There’s the lady who thought she
was Mrs. Daggett—and has the bruises to prove it—only to discover the
legal Mrs. D. And there are the drug dealers out $25,000. But most of
all, there are the families of the five people John Daggett killed,
victims of his wild, drunken driving. The DA called it vehicular
manslaughter and put him away for two years. The families called it
murder and had very good reason to want John Daggett dead.
cunning, and clever, this latest Millhone mystery also confronts some
messy truths, for, as Kinsey herself says, “Some debts of the human soul
are so enormous only life itself is sufficient forfeit”—but as she’d
be the first to admit, murder is not a socially acceptable solution.
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