Spook by Bill Pronzini

Author:Bill Pronzini [Pronzini, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: det_crime
ISBN: 9780786710867
Publisher: Carroll & Graf
Published: 2002-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

“Nineteen seventy-seven,” Kerry said.

“Come on. The exact year?”

“Want to make a little bet?”

“You only looked at the photos for about two minutes.”

“I don’t need any more time. I could give you a four- or five-year window — late seventies to early eighties — but ’seventy-seven seems right. The photos were probably taken in the late fall of ’seventy-six, a few months before the yearbook was released.”

“Now you’re really guessing.”

“Want to make a bet?” she asked again.

“No way I’d ever bet against that smug look of yours.”

“I don’t have a smug look.”

“Go look in the mirror. All right, tell me why you’re so sure. Dazzle me with your deductive powers.”

“I should’ve been a detective, huh? Stolen some of your thunder?”

“God forbid. Come on, give.”

“I worked on my high school yearbook,” she said. “Photos are usually taken in the fall of the year before the book comes out. Three or four months’ lead time, to allow for layout, proofreading, printing. Capito?”

“Capito. But that doesn’t explain how you can pinpoint an exact year.”

“ ‘Charlie’s Angels,’ for one thing.”

“Who?”

“Number one rated TV show in the late seventies. Three beautiful women private eyes who worked for a mysterious boss named Charlie.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You’re kidding. Famous jiggle show.”

“What’s a jiggle show?”

“Now I know you’ve heard that term before.”

“If I have, I didn’t internalize it.”

“They didn’t wear bras, bounced when they moved. Jiggle show.”

“Oh. Sexy stuff.”

“You sure you never watched the show?”

“You know I don’t watch episodic TV.”

One of her analytical looks. “Sometimes I could swear you’re putting me on. You can’t be that far out of the mainstream, can you?”

“Why can’t I? The only things on the tube that interest me are sports and old movies. And I like my sex up close and personal, not bouncing and jiggling on a screen.”

“That much I know isn’t a put on.”

“So what about this ‘Charlie’s Angels’ show?”

“Well, one of the actresses was Farrah Fawcett. Blonde, wore her hair in a long, distinctive style. Waves, feathers... never mind.” Kerry poked the grubby page under my nose and tapped one of the photos. “This style. It was all the rage back then. Three of the girls here have the Farrah look.”

“Okay, I get it now. That explains the window but not the specific year.”

“ ‘Charlie’s Angels’ first aired in the fall of ’seventy-six,” she said patiently, although the patience seemed to be wearing a little thin. “A lot of girls adopted the Farrah look right away — more then than later, when the novelty began to wear off.”

“That’s not conclusive evidence.”

“Not conclusive, no, but—”

“So admit it, you’re just guessing.”

“I am not guessing!”

“Then give me conclusive proof the year is nineteen seventy-seven.”

“The pin,” she said.

“What pin?”

“One of the girls is wearing a pin. Didn’t you notice it?”

“No. Which girl?”

The page came at me again; she almost banged me on the nose with it. A finger came around and jabbed a photo near the bottom. “This girl. This pin.”

I squinted. Pin, all right, on a chubby girl’s black sweater. Up close, now that I was focused on it, it looked vaguely familiar.

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