Book 12 in the Kinsey Millhone series

The author wishes to acknowledge the invaluable assistance of the following people: Steven Humphrey; Eric S. H. Ching; Louis Skiera, Veterans Services representative; B.J. Seebol, J.D.; Carter Hicks; Carl Eckhart; Ray Connors; Captain Edward A. Aasted, Lieutenant Charlene French, and Jack Cogan, Santa Barbara Police Department; Merrill Hoffman, Santa Barbara Locksmiths; Vaughan Armstrong; Kim Oser, Hyatt Dallas/Fort Worth; Sheila Burr, California Automobile Association; A. LaMott Smith; Charles de L'Arbre, Janet Van Velsor, and Cathy Peterson, Santa Barbara Travel; and John Hunt, CompuVision, who retrieved chapter 14 from the Inky Void.

I don't mean to bitch, but in the future I intend to hesitate before I do a favor for the friend of a friend. Never have I taken on such a load of grief. At the outset, it all seemed so innocent. I swear there's no way I could have guessed what was coming down. I came this close to death and, perhaps worse (for my fellow dental phobics), within a hairbreadth of having my two front teeth knocked out. Currently I'm sporting a knot on my head that's the size of my fist. And all this for a job for which I didn't even get paid!

The matter came to my attention through my landlord, Henry Pitts, whom everybody knows I've been half in love with for years. The fact that he's eighty-five (a mere fifty years my senior) has never seemed to alter the basic impact of his appeal. He's a sweetheart and he seldom asks me for anything, so how could I refuse? Especially when his request seemed so harmless on the face of it, without the faintest suggestion of the troubles to come.