A Is For Alibi

“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.”

In this dialogue between Millhone and Nikki, Nikki disputes the rationale behind her conviction, showcasing a deep understanding of the human psyche and the motives behind violent acts. She emphasizes that violent actions, particularly murder, stem from intense emotions rather than indifference, challenging the prosecution’s theory that she killed her cheating husband out of a desire for revenge. Through Nikki’s perspective, the narrative refuses a simplistic approach to categorizing the motives behind crimes, setting the groundwork for a story rich in complex human psychology.

“A lot of people apparently hated him: men for the price he extracted, women for the betrayal of their trust.”

This quote depicts Laurence as ruthless in both his professional and personal life. The quote exposes the theme of gendered experience in the novel and highlights the way in which Laurence took advantage of both men and women in different ways. This paints a vivid picture of the kind of enemies Laurence could have fostered over time, thereby adding layers to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his death and potentially expanding the circle of suspects in his murder case.

“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.”

Millhone reflects on the police’s inclination to suspect close acquaintances in murder cases, a perspective that casts a chilling shadow on familial relations, visualized starkly in the family-dinner scenario. This quote showcases the narrative’s propensity to wade into the psychological implications of crime, bringing forth a macabre undercurrent to everyday scenarios.

“Santa Teresa is a Southern California town of eighty thousand, artfully arranged between the Sierra Madres and the Pacific Ocean—a haven for the abject rich.”

The fictional town of Santa Teresa plays a central role in the novel. The phrase “abject rich” is somewhat paradoxical, as “abject” is typically used to describe extreme unhappy or unpleasant conditions. Its use here could hint at the underlying unhappiness or moral degradation that wealth can bring. This setting not only sets the stage for the unfolding narrative but also symbolizes the intertwining themes of wealth, exclusivity, and the competition that often accompanies affluence.

“The basic characteristics of any good investigator are a plodding nature and infinite patience. Society has inadvertently been grooming women to this end for years.”

Millhone reflects on the traits that are essential for a good investigator—“a plodding nature and infinite patience.” By noting that “society has inadvertently been grooming women to this end for years,” the quote illustrates the theme of gender roles, suggesting that women might naturally possess the required patience and attention to detail for investigative work due to the roles and expectations society has historically placed on them. Since male investigators dominate detective fiction, the comment subverts both genre norms and traditional gender expectations by reimagining qualities resulting from women’s oppression as strengths in the context of Millhone’s profession.

“I used to think about [getting even] in prison a lot but now that I’m out, it doesn’t seem that important to me. Right now, all I want is to have my son back. And I want to lie on the beach and drink Perrier and wear my own clothes. And eat in restaurants and when I’m not doing that, I want to cook. And sleep late and take bubble baths...”

Nikki Fife reveals a deep yearning for normalcy and comfort after being wrongly imprisoned. The description underlines the profound loss she experienced during her incarceration. While she once harbored thoughts of revenge, her newfound freedom shifts her focus toward rebuilding her life and reconnecting with her son. This change showcases Nikki’s resilience and a personal transformation, emphasizing a reevaluation of what truly matters in life.

“Bit by bit, I was putting together background information, but nothing was really happening yet, and as far as I knew nothing might ever come of it. As far as the state of California was concerned, justice had been served and only Nikki Fife stood in contradiction of this. Nikki and the nameless, faceless killer of Laurence Fife who had enjoyed eight years of immunity from prosecution.”

Millhone expresses her discontent with the slow progress of her investigation into a matter the state has ostensibly resolved. This showcases her unyielding commitment to finding the truth and rectifying what she perceives to be a miscarriage of justice, which resonates strongly with the theme of Justice and Wrongful Imprisonment and hints at a larger systemic failure, where formal decrees of “justice” can potentially eclipse the truth.

“A lot of people were mistaken about a lot of things.”

This quote, from a conversation between Millhone and Gwen, reflects the myriad misunderstandings that pervaded the relationships and events surrounding Laurence’s murder. This line encapsulates the central theme of Truth and Deception, urging a reconsideration of the case’s accepted truths through a lens of newfound perspectives.

“So far, I felt like I had a lapful of confetti and the notion of piecing it all together to make a picture seemed very remote indeed.”

This imagery articulates Millhone's current sense of disorder and confusion, highlighting the intricacy of her current case. This moment in the narrative resonates with the broader theme of searching for truth amid chaos, illustrating Millhone’s commitment to unraveling the complicated mess of circumstances.

“Life in Las Vegas exactly suits my notion of some eventual life in cities under the sea. Day and night mean nothing. People ebb and surge aimlessly as though pulled by invisible thermal currents that are swift and disagreeably close. Everything is made of plaster of paris, imitative, larger than life, profoundly impersonal. The whole town smells of $1.89 fried shrimp dinners.”

Millhone reflects on the Las Vegas cityscape, associating it with an underwater world where time blurs and the environment feels both artificial and overwhelming. The comparison to “cities under the sea” and the mention of “invisible thermal currents” evoke a surreal, almost dystopian atmosphere, hinting at her deep discomfort and alienation. It illustrates her keen observational skills, painting a stark, unromanticized picture that goes beyond the glitzy facade of the city to dissect its impersonal and chaotic nature.

“If I’d gotten there when I was supposed to, she might not be dead, and I wanted to apologize for my bad manners, for the delay, for being sick, for being too late. I wanted to hold her hand and coax her back to life again but there was no way and I knew, in a quick flash, that if I’d been there on time, I might be dead myself.”

This is an excerpt from Millhone's interior monologue after finding Sharon Napier, Laurence’s former secretary, dead. Millhone feels expresses a deep remorse for not being able to prevent Sharon’s demise, and she realizes that she was potentially spared from the same fate. It alludes to the danger and gravity of the situation, setting a tense and sorrowful tone as Millhone contemplates loss and what-if scenarios.

“Sometimes I just really do get sick of trying to coax information out of people who aren’t in the mood. [...] I wanted straight answers and a lot of them too. And I wanted a relationship based, just once, on some sort of mutual exchange instead of me always having to connive and manipulate.”

Millhone expresses her consternation in speaking with Laurence’s son Greg, underlining the pervasive theme of truth and deception. Her comment reveals the emotional toll her investigative role takes on her, as it paradoxically forces her into the role of the deceiver to extract the truth.

“I tried to imagine myself dead, someone sorting carelessly through my belongings. What was there really of my life? Canceled checks. Reports all typewritten and filed. Everything of value reduced to terse prose. I didn’t keep much myself, didn’t hoard or save. Two divorce decrees. That was about the sum of it for me. I collected more information about other people’s lives than I did about my own, as though, perhaps, in poring over the facts about other people, I could discover something about myself.”

While sorting through Libby Glass’s belongings, Millhone ponders her own life’s narrative. She realizes that her personal story is primarily documented through official paperwork rather than cherished personal mementos. The items she mentions are terminal documents: They reflect transactions and events that have been finalized, much as the information on Millhone’s index cards. This reflection emphasizes her role as an observer in others’ narratives more than a participant in her own.

“I saw, for an instant, the look that had flashed in Nikki’s eyes, unreasoning malevolence, a harsh irrational rage. She had set this all in motion. […] There were pieces missing yet but they would fall into place and then maybe the whole of it would make sense. Assuming I lived long enough myself to figure it out…”

This passage casts doubt on Nikki as potentially orchestrating a scheme involving blackmail and murder. It is a critical junction in the narrative that introduces the red herring of Nikki’s deception, heightening the plot’s psychological tense and raising the stakes of Millhone’s investigation. It also foreshadows Millhone’s acknowledgment that she is in danger with Charlie, someone she previously trusted.

“Now that was sexy. A man in a nylon bikini…isn’t half as interesting as a man in a good-looking business suit. Charlie’s outfit reminded me of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup with a bite taken out and I wanted the rest.”

Millhone expresses a deep attraction to Charlie; her metaphor of a partly eaten Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup symbolizing both temptation and indulgence. This playful moment starkly contrasts with Charlie’s later role as a villain, adding layers of complexity to Millhone's initial perception of him. The description also highlights the theme of truth and deception that permeates the novel.

“[Charlie] smiled slightly. […] ‘Haven’t you ever heard of compromise?’‘Oh sure,’ I said. ‘That’s when you give away half the things you want. That’s when you give the other guy half of what’s rightfully yours. I’ve done that lots of times. It sucks.’”

Millhone's line equates compromise to a loss or a surrender. Her response reveals her jaded perspective on relationships, derived from her experiences of compromise being one-sided. This casts a light on Millhone's unwillingness to be vulnerable, painting a portrait of a character who is fiercely protective of herself, maybe to a fault.

“I don’t know what love is about and I’m not sure I believe in it anyway.”

This internal monologue showcases Millhone’s struggle with vulnerability and commitment, suggesting a deep-seated fear of intimacy. The quote offers a glimpse into Millhone’s inner turmoil, spotlighting the challenges of balancing a fulfilling personal life with a career that demands undivided attention and integrity.

“I’d seen it happen before. People can hold out just so long and then they

fold. She was really an amateur at heart.”

Here Millhone reflects on Gwen’s breaking point as she confesses to the murder of Laurence. The excerpt reveals Millhone’s experience and insight into human nature, understanding that people have a limit to how much pressure they can handle before breaking down and revealing their true selves. The word “amateur” in this context denotes Gwen’s inability to maintain her facade under sustained scrutiny, showcasing her lack of experience in concealing deep secrets as compared to someone skilled at deception.

“Unless there was someone else involved. Someone else who killed.”

This is a turning point in the plot, as Millhone realizes that there might be more to the case. It is a moment of dread accentuated by the chilling sensation she experiences, highlighting her inner turmoil through a utilization of interior monologue. This quote doesn’t just shift the plot direction but also highlights the theme of truth and deception.

“Gwen’s dead.”

Millhone fields this sudden revelation in a call from Nikki, abruptly marking the end of a character who had a substantial role in the narrative. The death, reported as a hit-and-run incident, raises instant questions, reverberating with the themes of truth and deception that recur throughout the plot. This announcement demands that Millhone reassess her previous conclusions, setting a critical stage for the unfolding inquiry.

“I went back to the car and sat blankly, wondering in some vague irrational way if I really would have used the gun. I didn’t think so. [...] I had one more stop and then I could drive back to Santa Teresa and clean it up. I thought I knew now who it was.”

Millhone is grappling with her conscience following a heated confrontation with Lyle Stevens, who is involved in the case’s financial misdeeds. After threatening Lyle with a gun to obtain vital information, she reflects on the potentially dangerous line she walked. This passage offers readers a deep dive into Millhone’s inner turmoil, which shifts between self-reproach and the perceived necessity of her actions. It also foreshadows the pivotal last scene of the novel.

“The ludicrous fact of the matter is that in this day and age, a white-collar criminal can become a celebrity, a hero, can go on talk shows and write bestselling books. So what was there to sweat? Society will forgive just about anything except homicide.”

Millhone thinks about Charlie’s possible involvement in a series of crimes while she drives back to Santa Teresa. She is vexed not just by his individual wrongdoings but also by society’s glamorization and eventual forgiveness of the wealthy. This connects to the novel’s theme of Justice and Wrongful Imprisonment. Her final thought shows there is a moral line even the wealthy cannot cross, at least in theory.

“Kinsey, you don’t have to be afraid of me. My God, don’t you know that?”

This quote, spoken by Charlie in the final scene, is loaded with irony and deception, considering Millhone has every reason to be afraid of him at this point. It portrays Charlie as manipulative, willing to use their romantic relationship to cloud Millhone's judgment and lower her defenses. This line juxtaposes their past affection and the current menacing reality, showcasing the disparity between perception and reality.