Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead (Claire DeWitt Mysteries #1)

by Sara Gran

"Forty-two," I said. I was thirty-five. But no one trusts a woman under forty. I'd started being forty when I was twenty-nine.

"Listen. I do need your help." "Oh-h-h," I said slowly. "You need my help. What a fucking surprise. I never would have guessed. I am totally fucking—"

"You have to go to school and study hard. You need really good grades. And then you have to go to college. Meet the right people, all that." "Oh," Andray said. He leaned back in his seat a little. I laughed. "I'm kidding," I said. "I'm totally kidding. I didn't do any of that shit." Andray laughed a little, unsure. "For real?" "Yeah, for real," I said. "All that stuff is bullshit. I don't know. You just do it."

I missed her every day. If I found her body, I wouldn't miss her any less. Maybe I didn't really want to know. Maybe, like everyone who hires a detective, I didn't want to solve my own mystery. Maybe I wanted to keep Tracy as she was, blond hair and bangs, vintage dress and Doc Martens, smelling like subway and cigarettes. Maybe even detectives don't want to solve their own crimes. Because once a crime is solved, you have to close the case and move on.