Mystery & Suspense
Read an excerpt from U is for Undertow (continued):
I handed him my yellow pad and watched while he scribbled down his address and telephone number. In return I handed him my business card with my office number and address.
He said, "I really appreciate this. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't agreed."
"I'll probably regret it, but what the hell? It's only one day," I said. If I'd been listening closely, I'd have caught the sound of the gods having a great big old tee-hee at my expense.
I said, "You're sure you don't want to make the trip up to Climp? It would save you a few bucks."
"I don't want to. They probably wouldn't talk to me in any event."
"I see." I studied him. "You want to tell me what's going on here? You can't talk to your siblings and now you can't talk to your prep school pals?"
"I already told you I didn't have pals. It has more to do with the administration."
"How come?"
"There were some difficulties. I had a problem."
"Like what, you were expelled?" I love stories about flunking and expulsions. With my history of screwups, those are like fairy tales.
"It's not something I want to get into. It has nothing to do with this." A stubborn note had crept into his voice. "You go up there. They'll let you see yearbooks as easily as me."
"I doubt it. Educational institutions hate handing over information about their students. Especially with the words 'private investigator' thrown into the mix."
"Don't tell 'em you're a PI. Think of something else."
"I didn't even attend Climping Academy so why would I want to see a yearbook? It makes no sense."
He shook his head. "I won't do it. I have my reasons."
"Which you're not about to share."
"Right."
"Okay, fine. It's no skin off my nose. If that's how you want to spend your five hundred bucks, I can live with it. I love driving through Horton Ravine."
I got up, and as we shook hands again, I realized what was bothering me. "One more question."
"What's that?"
"The article came out two weeks ago. Why'd you wait so long before you went to the police?"
He hesitated. "I was nervous. All I have is a hunch. I didn't want the police to write me off as a crank."
"Nuh-uh. That's not all of it. What else?"
He was silent for a moment, color rising in his cheeks again. "What if the guys find out I remembered them? I might have been the only witness and I told them my name. If they're the ones who killed Mary Claire, why wouldn't they kill me?"
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