"A" Is for Alibi (Kinsey Millhone Series #1)

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Overview

Laurence Fife was a slick divorce lawyer and slippery ladies' man. Until someone killed him. The jury believed that it was his pretty young wife Nikki, so they sent her to prison for eight years. Now, Nikki's out on parole and Kinsey Millhone's in for trouble. Nikki hires Kinsey to discover who really killed her husband. But the trail is eight years cold, and at the end is a chilling twist even Kinsey doesn't suspect—a second eight-year-old murder and a brand new corpse. ...
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Overview

Laurence Fife was a slick divorce lawyer and slippery ladies' man. Until someone killed him. The jury believed that it was his pretty young wife Nikki, so they sent her to prison for eight years. Now, Nikki's out on parole and Kinsey Millhone's in for trouble. Nikki hires Kinsey to discover who really killed her husband. But the trail is eight years cold, and at the end is a chilling twist even Kinsey doesn't suspect—a second eight-year-old murder and a brand new corpse.
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  • Tagged! Interview: Sue Grafton
    Tagged! Interview: Sue Grafton  

Editorial Reviews

Newsweek
[Grafton] has created a woman we feel we know, a tough cookie with a soft center, a gregarious loner . . . smart, well paced, and very funny.
Newgate Callendar
It is no better or no worse than the majority of related books, and that is about all.— The New York Times Books of the Century, reviewed May 23, 1982
People Magazine
The best of the new breed of female mystery writers.
Newsweek
[Grafton] has created a woman we feel we know, a tough cookie with a soft center, a gregarious loner . . . smart, well paced, and very funny.
Newgate Callendar
It is no better or no worse than the majority of related books, and that is about all. -- The New York Times Books of the Century, reviewed May 23, 1982
From the Publisher
Praise for "A" Is for Alibi"Kinsey Millhone is smart, sexual, likeable and a very modern operator. A pleasure to read." —Dorothy Salisbury Davis

"[This] is what grandpa used to call a class act." —Stanley Ellin

Praise for the Sue Grafton series: and Kinsey Millhone

"Wit is the most versatile weapon in Sue Grafton's well-stocked arsenal, and she uses it with disarming precision. . . . Grafton excels in this milieu."—Newsweek

"A wonderful character, tough but not brutish, resourceful and sensitive, a fit knight to walk those mean streets with her male predecessors."—Los Angeles Times

"Somebody I want to spend more time with."—The New York Times Book Review

"Bright, brisk, and thoroughly engaging."—The Washington Post

"A woman we feel we know, a tough cookie with a soft center, a gregarious loner."—Newsweek

"Tough, stubborn, irreverent and ironic, a lady detective with class and sass."—Baltimore Sun

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780816151448
  • Publisher: Cengage Gale
  • Publication date: 6/28/1991
  • Series: Kinsey Millhone Series , #1
  • Edition description: Large Print Edition
  • Pages: 354
  • Product dimensions: 6.06 (w) x 9.19 (h) x 0.63 (d)

Meet the Author

Sue  Grafton

SUE GRAFTON is the New York Times #1 bestselling author for the alphabet series. She has been working on this series since 1982 and intends to complete the series in 2015.

Biography

Sue Grafton is published in 28 countries and 26 languages -- including Estonian, Bulgarian, and Indonesian. She's an international bestseller with a readership in the millions. She's a writer who believes in the form that she has chosen to mine: "The mystery novel offers a world in which justice is served. Maybe not in a court of law," she has said, "but people do get their just desserts." And like Raymond Chandler and Ross Macdonald, Robert Parker and the John D. MacDonald—the best of her breed—she has earned new respect for that form. Her readers appreciate her buoyant style, her eye for detail, her deft hand with character, her acute social observances, and her abundant storytelling talents.

But who is the real Sue Grafton? Many of her readers think she is simply a version of her character and alter ego Kinsey Millhone. Here are Kinsey's own words in the early pages of N Is for Noose:

"So there I was barreling down the highway in search of employment and not at all fussy about what kind of work I'd take. I wanted distraction. I wanted some money, escape, anything to keep my mind off the subject of Robert Deitz. I'm not good at good-byes. I've suffered way too many in my day and I don't like the sensation. On the other hand, I'm not that good at relationships. Get close to someone and the next thing you know, you've given them the power to wound, betray, irritate, abandon you, or bore you senseless. My general policy is to keep my distance, thus avoiding a lot of unruly emotion. In psychiatric circles, there are names for people like me."

Those are sentiments that hit home for Grafton's readers. And she has said that Kinsey is herself, only younger, smarter, and thinner. But are they an apt description of Kinsey's creator? Well, she's been married to Steve Humphrey for more than twenty years. She has three kids and two grandkids. She loves cats, gardens, and good cuisine—not quite the nature-hating, fast-food loving Millhone. So: readers and reviewers beware. Never assume the author is the character in the book. Sue, who has a home in Montecito, California ("Santa Theresa") and another in Louisville, the city in which she was born and raised, is only in her imagination Kinsey Millhone -- but what a splendid imagination it is.

Biography from author website

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    1. Hometown:
      Montecito, California and Louisville, Kentucky
    1. Date of Birth:
      April 24, 1940
    2. Place of Birth:
      Louisville, Kentucky
    1. Education:
      B.A. in English, University of Louisville, 1961
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

My name is Kinsey Millhone. I’m a private investigator, licensed by the state of California. I’m thirty-two years old, twice divorced, no kids. The day before yesterday I killed someone and the fact weighs heavily on my mind. I’m a nice person and I have a lot of friends. My apartment is small but I like living in a cramped space. I’ve lived in trailers most of my life, but lately they’ve been getting too elaborate for my taste, so now I live in one room, a "bachelorette."I don’t have pets. I don’t have houseplants. I spend a lot of time on the road and I don’t like leaving things behind. Aside from the hazards of my profession, my life has always been ordinary, uneventful, and good. Killing someone feels odd to me and I haven’t quite sorted it through. I’ve already given a statement to the police, which I initialed page by page and then signed. I filled out a similar report for the office files. The language in both documents is neutral, the terminology oblique, and neither says quite enough.

Nikki Fife first came to my office three weeks ago. I occupy one small corner of a large suite of offices that house the California Fidelity Insurance Company, for whom I once worked. Our connection now is rather loose. I do a certain number of investigations for them in exchange for two rooms with a separate entrance and a small balcony overlooking the main street of Santa Teresa. I have an answering service to pick up calls when I’m out and I keep my own books. I don’t earn a lot of money but I make ends meet.

I’d been out for most of the morning, only stopping by the office to pick up my camera. Nikki Fife was standing in the corridor outside my office door. I’d never really met her but I’d been present at her trial eight years before when she was convicted of murdering her husband, Laurence, a prominent divorce attorney here in town. Nikki was in her late twenties then, with striking white-blonde hair, dark eyes, and flawless skin. Her lean face had filled out some, probably the result of prison food with its high starch content, but she still had the ethereal look that had made the accusation of murder seem so incongruous at the time. Her hair had grown out now to its natural shade, a brown so pale that it appeared nearly colorless. She was maybe thirty-five, thirty-six, and the years at the California Institute for Women had left no visible lines.

I didn’t say anything at first; just opened the door and let her in.

"You know who I am,"she said.

"I worked for your husband a couple of times."

She studied me carefully. "Was that the extent of it?"

I knew what she meant. "I was also there in court when you were being tried,"I said. "But if you’re asking if I was involved with him personally, the answer is no. He wasn’t my type. No offense. Would you like coffee?"

She nodded, relaxing almost imperceptibly. I pulled the coffeepot from the bottom of the file cabinet and filled it from the Sparkletts water bottle behind the door. I liked it that she didn’t protest the trouble I was going to. I put in a filter paper and ground coffee and plugged in the pot. The gurgling sound was comforting, like the pump in an aquarium.

Nikki sat very still, almost as though her emotional gears had been disengaged. She had no nervous mannerisms, didn’t smoke or twist her hair. I sat down in my swivel chair.

"When were you released?"

"A week ago."

"What’s freedom feel like?"

She shrugged. "It feels good, I guess, but I can survive the other way too. Better than you’d think."

I took a small carton of half-and-half out of the little refrigerator to my right. I keep clean mugs on top and I turned one over for each of us, filling them when the coffee was done. Nikki took hers with a murmured thanks.

"Maybe you’ve heard this one before,"she went on, "but I didn’t kill Laurence and I want you to find out who did."

"Why wait this long? You could have initiated an investigation from prison and maybe saved yourself some time."

She smiled faintly. "I’ve been claiming I was innocent for years. Who’d believe me? The minute I was indicted, I lost my credibility. I want that back. And I want to know who did me in."

I had thought her eyes were dark but I could see now that they were a metallic gray. Her look was level, flattened-out, as though some interior light were growing dim. She seemed to be a lady without much hope. I had never believed she was guilty myself but I couldn’t remember what had made me so sure. She seemed passionless and I couldn’t imagine her caring enough about anything to kill.

"You want to fill me in?"

She took a sip of coffee and then set the mug on the edge of my desk.

"I was married to Laurence for four years, a little more than that. He was unfaithful after the first six months. I don’t know why it came as such a shock. Actually, that’s how I got involved with him ...when he was with his first wife, being unfaithful to her with me. There’s a sort of egotism attached to being a mistress, I suppose. Anyway, I never expected to be in her shoes and I didn’t like it much."

"According to the prosecutor, that’s why you killed him."

"Look, they needed a conviction. I was it,"she said with the first sign of energy. "I’ve just spent the last eight years with killers of one kind or another and believe me, the motive isn’t apathy. You kill people you hate or you kill in rage or you kill to get even, but you don’t kill someone you’re indifferent to. By the time Laurence died, I didn’t give a damn about him. I fell out of love with him the first time I found out about the other women. It took me a while to get it all out of my system . . ."

"And that’s what the diary was all about?"I asked.

"Sure I kept track at first. I detailed every infidelity. I listened in on phone calls. I followed him around town. Then he started being more cautious about the whole thing and I started losing interest. I just didn’t give a shit."

A flush had crept up to her cheeks and I gave her a moment to compose herself. "I know it looked like I killed him out of jealousy or rage, but I didn’t care about that stuff. By the time he died, I just wanted to get on with my own life. I was going back to school, minding my own business. He went his way and I went mine . . ."Her voice trailed off.

"Who do you think killed him?"

"I think a lot of people wanted to. Whether they did or not is another matter. I mean, I could make a couple of educated guesses but I don’t have proof of anything. Which is why I’m here."

"Why come to me?"

She flushed again slightly. "I tried the two big agencies in town and they turned me down. I came across your name in Laurence’s old Rolodex. I thought there was a certain kind of irony hiring someone he had once hired himself. I did check you out. With Con Dolan down at Homicide."

I frowned. "It was his case, wasn’t it?"

Nikki nodded. "Yes it was. He said you had a good memory. I don’t like having to explain everything from scratch."

"What about Dolan? Does he think you’re innocent?"

"I doubt it, but then again, I did my time so what’s it to him?"

I studied her for a moment. She was forthright and what she said made sense. Laurence Fife had been a difficult man. I hadn’t been all that fond of him myself. If she was guilty, I couldn’t see why she would stir it all up again. Her ordeal was over now and her so-called debt to society had been taken off the books except for whatever remaining parole she had to serve.

"Let me think about it some,"I said. "I can get in touch with you later today and let you know."

"I’d appreciate that. I do have money. Whatever it takes."

"I don’t want to be paid to rehash old business, Mrs. Fife. Even if we find out who did it, we have to make it stick and that could be tough after all this time. I’d like to check back through the files and see how it looks."

She took a manila folder out of her big leather bag. "I have some newspaper clippings. I can leave those with you if you like. That’s the number where I can be reached."

We shook hands. Hers was cool and slight but her grip was strong. "Call me Nikki. Please."

"I’ll be in touch,"I said.

I had to go take some photographs of a crack in a sidewalk for an insurance claim and I left the office shortly after she did, taking my VW out the freeway. I like my cars cramped and this one was filled with files and law books, a briefcase where I keep my little automatic, cardboard boxes, and a case of motor oil given to me by a client. He’d been cheated by two con artists who had "allowed"him to invest two grand in their oil company. The motor oil was real enough but it wasn’t theirs; just some Sears thirty-weight with new labels pasted on. It had taken me a day and a half to track them down. In addition to the junk, I keep a packed overnight case back there, too, for God knows what emergency. I wouldn’t work for anyone who wanted me that fast. It just makes me feel secure to have a nightgown, toothbrush, and fresh underwear at hand. I have my little quirks I guess. The VW’s a ’68, one of those vague beige models with assorted dents. It needs a tune-up but I never have time.

I thought about Nikki as I drove. I had tossed the manila folder full of clippings on the passenger seat but I really didn’t need to look at them. Laurence Fife had done a lot of divorce work and he had a reputation as a killer in court. He was cold, methodical, and unscrupulous, taking any advantage he could. In California, as in many states, the only grounds for divorce are irreconcilable differences or incurable insanity, which eliminates the trumped-up adultery charges that were the mainstay of divorce attorneys and private eyes in the old days. There is still the question of property settlements and custody—money and children—and Laurence Fife could get his clients anything. Most of them were women. Out of court, he had a reputation as a killer of another kind and the rumor was that he had mended many a broken heart in that difficult period between interlocutory and final decrees.

I had found him shrewd, nearly humorless, but exact; an easy man to work for because his instructions were clear and he paid in advance. A lot of people apparently hated him: men for the price he extracted, women for the betrayal of their trust. He was thirty-nine years old when he died. That Nikki was accused, tried, and convicted was just a piece of bad luck. Except for cases that clearly involve a homicidal maniac, the police like to believe murders are committed by those we know and love, and most of the time they’re right—a chilling thought when you sit down to dinner with a family of five. All those potential killers passing their plates.

As nearly as I could remember, Laurence Fife had been having drinks with his law partner, Charlie Scorsoni, the night of his murder. Nikki was at a meeting of the Junior League. She got home before Laurence, who arrived about midnight. He was taking medication for numerous allergies and before he went to bed, he downed his usual capsule. Within two hours, he was awake—nauseated, vomiting, doubled over with violent stomach cramps. By morning, he was dead. An autopsy and lab tests showed that he’d died as a result of ingesting oleander, ground to a fine powder and substituted for the medication in the capsule he took: not a masterly plot, but one employed to good effect. Oleander is a common California shrub. There was one in the Fife’s backyard as a matter of fact. Nikki’s fingerprints were found on the vial along with his. A diary was discovered among her possessions, certain entries detailing the fact that she’d found out about his adulteries and was bitterly angry and hurt, contemplating divorce. The District Attorney established quite nicely that no one divorced Laurence Fife without penalty. He’d been married and divorced once before and though another attorney had handled his case, his impact was evident. He obtained custody of his children and he managed to come out ahead financially. The state of California is scrupulous in its division of assets, but Laurence Fife had a way of maneuvering monies so that even a fifty-fifty split gave him the lion’s share. It looked as if Nikki Fife knew better than to try disentangling herself from him legally and had sought other means.

She had motive. She had access. The grand jury heard the evidence and returned an indictment. Once she got into court, it was simply a question of who could persuade twelve citizens of what. Apparently the D.A. had done his homework. Nikki hired Wilfred Brentnell from Los Angeles: a legal whiz with a reputation as the patron saint of lost causes. In some sense, it was almost like admitting her guilt. The whole trial had a sensational air. Nikki was young. She was pretty. She was born with money. The public was curious and the town was small. It was all too good to miss.

Excerpted from A Is For Alibi by Sue Grafton.Copyright © 1982 by Sue Grafton.Published in November 2005 by St. Martin’s Press.

All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 337 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 9 Customer Reviews
  • Posted November 13, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    I love it

    I love this book. It was great and the characters are so likeable.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 6, 2005

    Great Book

    ¿'A' is for Alibi' is a great book. It is one of the few books that I like, maybe because it is simple, sometimes leave you in suspense, and maybe sometimes is a little funny. However, in this mystery book, she describes every person, place, and things she sees in such a huge detail that sometimes you feel it is not important. These details also lets you imagine the character and places that Kinsey Millhone is in. Since this is the first book of the series by Sue Grafton, you should start with this one! After reading this book, I was left with a wonder of the title and also leave me thinking about the relationship between the title and story of the rest of her set of books.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 27, 2003

    A Fun Read

    I enjoyed this book. Not as funny as Evanovitch, but worth the read. I really like Kinsey! I'll definitely be reading the next few in the series.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 8, 2002

    Refreshing

    I haven't read fiction for about 15 years, focusing on business and professional reading. "A" is for Alibi was my return to one of my favorite venues of mystery and spy stories. The Grafton books are wonderful! The character of Kinsey Millhone seems so real and likeable. It is easy, fresh and crisp reading, truely entertaining and holds the interest.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 5, 2001

    A is for Awesome

    Kinsey Millhone is the best, most well-developed character in a mystery book. In this book, 'A is for Alibi', Millhone is a private detective who sets out to find the murderer of man eight years ago. The book's author, Sue Grafton, does an amazing job of creating a dense, detailed plot. This book will hook you from the start and you will not be able to put it down. I have read all the way up to M is for Malice. The only reason I have stopped there is because the books are so good, I do not want to run out the ones already in print.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 27, 2001

    The Best Read I've Had In A Long Time!!!!!

    This book hooked me from the start. The details it gives and the characters are so true to life. A friend at work brought me Alibi to read and I was shocked at how Grafton just pulls you in and keeps you wanting more. I have read all the way up to F is for Fugitive. I am a huge fan of Graftons and I hope that she keeps on writing.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 18, 2001

    An A+

    This book is a great mystery! It keeps you on the edge, and keeps you thinking! You have to love the main character, sassy Kinsey Millhone who attempts to solve a complicated case in this story. Grafton sets it up beautifully, and the epilouge ties up all loose ends. Read this one, and you won't be wasting your time. I'm on 'J', and this is by far the best!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 13, 2001

    'A' is for Awesome

    This book was a perfect read. Sue Grafton is so artistic. I'm on 'O' is for Outlaw but so far this is my favorite. I hope Sue Grafton does all twenty six letters!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 13, 2000

    'A' is for Average Read

    ''A' is for Alibi' by title leads the reader to imagine false alibis hidden amidst dark secrets. This book, however, does not live up to the expectations. Grafton attempts to distract the reader with subplots and false fronts, but these predictable tactics need little figuring out. Grafton does, however, shine in her development of main character Kinsey Millhone whom the reader will most certainly adore for her quick wit and sharp senses. This character may persuade me to make it through B and possibly C, but I won't be holding my breath as Grafton finishes up the rest of the alphabet.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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