Back W Is for Wasted
Chapters (42)
  1. Also by Sue Grafton
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgments
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. Epilogue
  42. Author’s Note

She downed the last of her margarita, set that glass aside, and picked up the second, from which she took a sip. There was nothing in her manner that suggested she was wasted, but I could feel sorrow rising through her bones. “In jail, before they moved him to Soledad. Mom didn’t want us to go. She said he’d be embarrassed. Ethan and Anna didn’t really want to see him anyway, but I did. I knew once he left here he’d be too far away, and how would I get there? I’d just turned fifteen and I didn’t have my driver’s license. I knew I couldn’t count on her. She wouldn’t even discuss taking me.”

“How did you manage it?”

“I looked up his attorney in the yellow pages. I called and asked if he’d get me in. I don’t know how he did it. There must be rules about how old you have to be.”

“Attorneys are good at sweet talk.”

“This one was. Daddy had the shakes. He was on the wagon because he didn’t have much choice. You hear all the time that inmates have access to anything they want . . . alcohol and dope . . . but Daddy kept his distance from the other guys. He was afraid of them. Mom told us at Soledad, he got all the alcohol he wanted. I don’t know how he managed it, but that’s her claim.”

“What’d you talk about?”

“Nothing. Stupid stuff. Whatever you say when you’re fifteen and your dad’s been convicted of murdering a girl the same age as you. I wasn’t allowed to stay long.”

“That must have been hard on you. All of it.”

“You know what? In my own mind, I was sure he was innocent. Even back then when everybody else thought he was guilty as sin.”

“Good you had a chance to see him sober.”

“He felt good about himself. He quit on his own . . . no help from anyone. Okay, so maybe he drank at Soledad, but who wouldn’t? And then once he got out, he probably had a drink to celebrate.”

“If it’s any comfort, his friends said he went into a program and at least made a pass at straightening up his act. Maybe he didn’t do it soon enough. It’s hard to know.”

“Was he alone when he died?”

“He was alone when he was found, so I’d say so, yes.”

For a moment, she was quiet, and I had no idea what was going on in her head.