"F" is for Fugitive: A Kinsey Millhone Mystery (Kinsey Millhone Alphabet Mysteries, 6)

Floral Beach wasn't much of a town: six streets long and three deep, its only notable feature being a strip of sand fronting the Pacific. It was on that sandy beach seventeen years ago that the strangled body of Jean Timberlake was found. The people of the town don't pay a whole lot of mind to past history, especially when Bailey Fowler, the self-confessed killer, had been convicted. They weren't even unduly concerned when, a year after the murder, Fowler walked away from the men's prison at San Luis Obispo, never to be seen again. After all, everyone knew Jean was a wild kid. "Like mother, like daughter," some said--though never within hearing of Shana Timberlake who, whatever her faults, still mourned her murdered child. And then, by sheer fluke, the cops stumbled on Bailey Fowler. And a case seventeen years dead came murderously to life again. For Royce Fowler, old and sick with not much time left, his son's reappearance was the chance to heal an old wound. For Kinsey Millhone, the case was a long shot, but she agreed to take it on. She couldn't know then that it would lead her to probe passions buried just below the surface of family relations. That's where old wounds fester and the most cherished emotions become warped until they fuse into deadly, soul-destroying time bombs. Floral Beach wasn't much of a town: six streets long and three deep, its only notable feature a strip of sand fronting the Pacific. It was on that sandy beach seventeen years ago that the strangled body of Jean Timberlake had been found.The people of floral Beach didn't pay a whole lot of mind to past history, especially when Bailey Fowler, the self-confessed killer, had been properly processed and convicted. They weren't even unduly concerned when, a year after the murder, Fowler walked away from the men's prison at San Luis Obispo, never to be seen again. After all, everyone knew Jean had been a wild kid. "Like mother, like daughter," some said--though never within hearing of Shana Timberlake, who, whatever her faults, still mourned her murdered child. And then, by sheer fluke, the cops stumbled on Bailey Fowler. And a case seventeen years dead came murderously to life again. For Royce Fowler, old and sick with not much time left, his son's reappearance was the chance to heal an old wound. For Kinsey Millhone, the case was a long shot, but she agreed to take it on. She couldn't know then it would lead her to probe the passions buried just below the surface of family relations, where old wounds fester and the most cherished emotions become warped until they fuse into deadly, soul-destroying time bombs. -- Amazon.com Floral Beach wasn't much of a town: six streets long and three deep, its only notable feature a strip of sand fronting the Pacific. It was on that sandy beach seventeen years ago that the strangled body of Jean Timberlake had been found. The people of Floral Beach didn't pay a whole lot of mind to past history, especially when Bailey Fowler, the self-confessed killer, had been properly processed and convicted. They weren't even unduly concerned when, a year after the murder, Fowler walked away from the men's prison at San Luis Obispo, never to be seen again. After all, everyone knew Jean had been a wild kid. "Like mother, like daughter," some said--though never within hearing of Shana Timberlake, who, whatever her faults, still mourned her murdered child. And then, by sheer fluke, the cops stumbled on Bailey Fowler. And a case seventeen years dead came murderously to life again. For Royce Fowler, old and sick with not much time left, his son's reappearance was the chance to heal an old wound. For Kinsey Millhone, the case was a long shot, but she agreed to take it on. She couldn't know then it would lead her to probe the passions buried just below the surface of family relations, where old wounds fester and the most cherished emotions become warped until they fuse into deadly, soul-destroying time bombs When Kinsey Millhone first arrives in Floral Beach, California, it�s hard for her to picture the idyllic coastal town as the setting of a brutal murder. Seventeen years ago, the body of Jean Timberlake�a troubled teen who had a reputation with the boys�was found on the beach. Her boyfriend Bailey Fowler was convicted of her murder and imprisoned, but he escaped. After all this time, Bailey�s finally been captured. Believing in his son�s innocence, Bailey�s father wants Kinsey to find Jean�s real killer. But most of the residents in this tight-knit community are convinced Bailey strangled Jean. So why are they so reluctant to answer Kinsey�s questions? If there�s one thing Kinsey�s got plenty of it�s persistence. And that�s exactly what it�s going to take to crack the lid on this case. As Kinsey gets closer to solving Jean�s murder, the more dirty little secrets she uncovers in a town where everyone has something to hide�and a killer will kill again to keep the past buried... Bailey Fowler, a long-time fugitive convicted of the murder of seventeen-year-old Jean Timberlake, has been captured. When his terminally-ill father asks P.I. Kinsey Millhone to prove Bailey's innocence, Kinsey heads to Floral Beach, California. She quickly finds herself engulfed by small-town gossip and secrets. As she unravels layers of deceit and dysfunction, Kinsey angers more than one person, and when more residents become the target of a murderer, Kinsey realizes that there's nothing 'private' about this tiny town.... Everyone knew the kind of girl Jean Timberlake was -- ask anybody in the sleepy surf town of Floral Beach and they'd say Jean was wild, looking for trouble. But she certainly wasn't looking for murder. She was found dead on the beach seventeen years ago, and a rowdy ex-boyfriend named Bailey Fowler was convicted of her murder and imprisoned -- and then Bailey escaped. Now private eye Kinsey Millhone steps into a case that should have never been closed, in a town where there's no such thing as a private investigation The Ocean Street Motel in Floral Beach, California, is located, oddly enough, on Ocean Street, a stone's throw from the sea wall that slants ten feet down toward the Pacific.