Historical Cozy Mystery 4th in SeriesSetting - 1787, Bath. Publisher: Dreamscape First Audible.com Release Date: March 31, 2026 Listening Length: 8 hours and 30 minutes Author: Samantha Larsen Narrator: Marni Penning ASIN: B0GCGRPKHW
A cozy historical mystery set in the 18th century—perfect for Bridgerton fans!
1787, Bath. Mrs. Tiffany Lathrop has catalogued the entire library at Astwell Palace and is feeling rather dull when Mr. Thomas Montague invites her and her husband Samir to visit Bath. Thomas begs Tiffany to help reconcile his mother Catharine, the Marchioness of Harwood, on his engagement to the famous actress Miss Rosalyn Arden—a beautiful young woman with bright red curls and eyes of mismatched color.
Eager to see his beloved, Thomas stops at the Theatre Royal with Tiffany and they discover a dead body wearing a red wig in Rosalyn’s dressing room. The body is that of Miss Julia Shakespeare, Rosalyn’s understudy and the person who has been blackmailing members of the acting company. Not only are the actors behaving suspiciously, but so are Rosalyn’s newly reconciled relatives that cast her off nine years before when she jilted Sir Frederick Bingham, who then married her younger sister.
If all the world is a stage, then someone acting innocent must be the murderer. Can Tiffany solve the mystery before the final curtain?
Samantha Hastings met her husband in a turkey sandwich line. They live in Salt Lake City, Utah, where she spends most of her time reading, having tea parties, and chauffeuring her four kids. She teaches World Literature at Brigham Young University. Her young adult fiction books are Junior Library Guild Gold Standard selections, and her historical romances are published around the world. She also writes murder mysteries under Samantha Larsen that Publisher’s Weekly called “wildly enjoyable.”
Deadly Secrets at Ballyford Castle is the second book in author Ellen Butler’s historical cozy Ariadne Winter Mystery series, and brings a great change of venue for the young newswoman’s burgeoning investigative skills. This new adventure takes Ariadne to Ireland to attend a weekend house party at the ancestral home of her cousin Julia Brennan’s soon-to-be fiancé, Cormac O’Connell. But rather than an engagement party, the hosts find themselves planning a wake.
Set in the late 1950s, Ariadne Winter is still breaking ground as a journalist, but this story is all about family. When a convenient accidental death occurs, she is suspicious, especially when several members of the O’Connell family have good motives for wanting the victim out of the way. Ariadne is down-to-earth but naturally sophisticated, which serves her in good stead among this family of Irish aristocrats who are barely keeping their estate viable.
Also at the manor for the weekend are Julia’s parents, Ariadne’s Aunt Maggie and Uncle Gerald. Julia is head over heels for Cormac, and even though her mother likes him well enough, she’s not overly impressed by the title he will one day wear. She is a force to reckon with and proves more than equal to the task of handling his supercilious mother, Lady Aisling, with the always helpful Uncle Gerald a good partner. I enjoyed the normal teenage Imogene, Cormac’s much younger sister, and his troubled brother, Shane, provides a ready-made suspect.
The plot is fast-paced, and the setting is full of atmosphere and tension as the two families get to know one another, and tragedy strikes. I had my suspicions all along and was pleased to find out that I had guessed correctly about a couple of things. However, there were some interesting and exciting twists and turns along the way to the final resolution. I was glad for the epilogue, which lets the story end on hopeful notes.While this is the second book in the series, it stands well on its own, and new readers will be able to easily read and enjoy it without needing to read the previous book first. However, it was great and not to be missed either! I recommend DEADLY SECRETS AT BALLYFORD CASTLE to cozy mystery readers.
I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advance Review Copy from the author through Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours.
In the summer of 1941, Hollywood heats up again when Humphrey Bogart arrives right after a female corpse with a dead bird stuffed inside her overcoat topples into the office of B. Norman Investigations. While filming The Maltese Falcon, Bogie found a mysterious ancient Egyptian hawk artifact on his doorstep containing a mummified black bird. Someone with dark intentions threatens the main cast, one by one, leaving dead birds, from crows to falcons, as their calling cards.
While more murders pile up, jeopardizing the film from being finished, Bogie hires private eyes Babs Norman and Guy Brandt, infuriating his volatile third wife, Mayo Methot, or Sluggy, as she’s known in some circles. Unraveling the personal lives of Mary Astor, John Huston, Sydney Greenstreet, Elisha Cook, Jr., Peter Lorre, and Jack L. Warner in their quirky, humorous way, the PIs turn the underbelly of Tinseltown upside down to stop the crazed killer from claiming another victim.
Praise for Bye Bye Blackbird:
"No author can seamlessly blend Hollywood history with and engaging mystery yarn better than Elizabeth Crowens. It’s a jaunty tale that could have been lifted from a Warner Bros. screenplay with all the principals from the studio’s famed stock company: The Maltese Falcon, Bogie, Mary Astor, Greenstreet, John Huston, and Jack L. Warner. Fasten your seatbelts for a wild ride through 1940s Hollywood!" ~ Alan K. Rode, film historian and author, Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film
"Crowens does it again with Bye Bye Blackbird. Babs, Brandt, and Bogart make this rocking novel the stuff dreams are made of." ~ Reed Farrel Coleman. New York Times bestselling author of Blind to Midnight
"It’s like someone shook a movie projector and out tumbled Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre, and a duo from a struggling PI agency bringing all the lighthearted fun of a 1940’s Hollywood mystery. That someone is Elizabeth Crowens." ~ Tom Straw, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
"A creative twist on The Maltese Falcon: Dead birds show up on doorsteps. Humphrey Bogart assumes the role of a real-life Sam Spade, and two young PIs rescue every oddball animal as they investigate. Even the mogul of a major movie studio is no match for a wisecracking myna bird who sounds like a Warner Brothers cartoon. If you’re a fan of Turner Classic Movies and the Golden Age of Hollywood, Bye Bye Blackbird will be sure to entertain." ~ Robert Dugoni, New York Times bestselling author of The Tracy Crosswhite Mystery Series
"Elizabeth Crowens’ Bye Bye Blackbird is a welcome addition to the Babs Norman Hollywood Mystery series. Set during the Golden Age of Hollywood and brimming with depictions of its personalities, Crowens succeeds in bringing Old Hollywood to life and offering readers another thoroughly entertaining installment to this series." ~ Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., author of the Hometowns to Hollywood series
"A delectable mystery set in the Golden Age of Hollywood, Elizabeth Crowens Bye Bye Blackbird is a fantastic addition to her Babs Norman series with a treat of a cast featuring Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre and other screen legends from the era brought to stunning life." ~ Lee Matthew Goldberg, award-nominated author of The Great Gimmelmans and The Mentor
Bye Bye Blackbird Trailer:
Book Details:
Genre: Golden Age of Hollywood Private Investigator novel with satire Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: January 28, 2025 Number of Pages: 340 Series: Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery Book Links:Amazon | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
Chapter 1
Look at the Birdie!
Hollywood 1941
On Friday, July 4th, only the most essential, dedicated, or insane Los Angelenos punched the clock. Established businesses that usually stayed open closed early that afternoon. For the fledgling ones, like the young private detectives at B. Norman Investigations, there would be no weenie roasts, barbeques, or national holiday celebrations. Death would soon follow. Every electric fan they owned hummed its own tune. Between the fan blades whirring and the cats purring, panting dogs, who could qualify as hotdogs, an injured pelican with its wing in a sling, and their janitor’s wisecracking myna bird, the whole kit and caboodle at Hollywood Boulevard and N. Sycamore resembled a cross between the Humane Society and the Griffith Park Zoo.
Guy Brandt, more detective-partner than secretary, manned the desk upfront. On top of it: a shoebox of magazine clippings, scissors, and a stack of The Times and Herald-Examiner. He undid one more button on his clammy, sweat-stained shirt, flung his tie onto their hat rack, and took a swig of his warm Nehi orange soda, already flat. He hoped to find new clients from newspaper leads but wasn’t getting anywhere. Babs Norman, who always had every pin curl in place, patted off her sticky forehead with a handkerchief. Way beyond a simple touch-up with powder and fresh lipstick, only a masterful makeup wizard, like Perc Westmore, could bring new life to this wilted flower.
“Wouldn’t it be fine and dandy if we could afford to run an ad at least once a week saying that we’re private detectives, specializing in discreet celebrity cases?” she asked.
An adventurous kitten, who strayed from the pack, latched on to Guy’s sock and started to climb his leg. “Maybe we should ask if we can put a note in the downstairs lobby that we’re also a pet adoption service.” He unhooked its claws, returning him to his mama.
“You think that would pay off our debts?”
“Do you always have to sound like a broken record?” An Irish Wolfhound, in need of a bath, sauntered in from the doorway between the two offices. He went up to Guy and plopped his oversized, hairy head into his lap. “Dog days not agreeing with you, Sir Henry?” After rubbing the furry beast’s head, he went to their icebox and plopped chunks of ice in the various water bowls scattered around both rooms. Several prostrated cats laid on their backs, trying to find coolness on the linoleum floor.
From under his pile of clippings, he fished out a copy of Black Mask. Babs, with a wooden clothespin clamping her nostrils shut and carrying an odiferous box of shredded newspapers, walked into his office and stopped short when she caught him reading the pulp. “You think we’re going to find our next client from detective fiction? We need another high-profile case like when we rescued Asta, so MGM could go into production on their next Thin Man film. They paid us an unheard-of amount of money…until you lost it all.”
“Stop being such a sourpuss.” He refused to give her eye contact.
“Do you think I’m enjoying spending time in our stifling office? I’d rather be at the beach with the man of my dreams.” Her inflection had a hint of sarcasm.
“Who’s the lucky fella?”
She went over to their monstrous dog and kissed him on the nose. “Looks like it’s you, Sir Henry of the Baskervilles. Instead of my frog prince, you’re my dog prince. Ah, you’re such a good boy.” She stared at the bulldog in the corner. “But we really need to paper-train Bruno.”
Their adopted bulldog whined. “You hurt his feelings,” Guy said. “Give him a good scratch behind his ears and apologize.”
She scowled. “I’ll give him two more weeks, and it’ll be your job to train him. Otherwise, he can go back to Wiggins, and I don’t care if one of his kids breaks out in hives.” She headed out the door to dump the litter.
* * *
“Our phone rang twice while you were out,” Guy said. “But Wiggins’ stupid bird answered before I could.”
“Hello, sucker!” the myna bird cackled. “Down for the count…1…2…3. Knocked him in the kisser, didn’t ya?”
“By the time I picked up the receiver, whoever it was hung up,” he explained.
“It’s hard to believe a bird can be so smart,” Babs muttered.
“Smart-mouthed is more like it,” he said. “Sounds like Jimmy Cagney, who he’s named after. Maybe we should let him earn his keep. The bird can impersonate him at parties.”
Babs stared at the troublemaker. “The person on the other end probably thought it was a prank.” She looked around the room. “Keep it up and…I got a lot of hungry cats and canines who wouldn’t mind a bowlful of myna bird stew.”
Wiggins, the building janitor, propped their front door open, causing their ginger tomcat to disappear into the hallway faster than gunfire. “My wife said the same. What are the two of ya doing here on Independence Day? With the tenants gone, I heard yer bickering all the way in the basement. Sounded like a married couple in divorce court. How did ya get in?”
“We had an extra set of keys,” Guy said.
Wiggins planted his hands on his hips. “More like makin’ a copy of my set while my back was turned. There’s no foolin’ me. Come on now. Who’ll be the first to confess?”
Both detectives buried their noses in their newspapers.
“All right, if none of ya willin’ to come clean, why aren’t you out having fun?”
“Paying our overdue office rent is my idea of fun,” Babs replied.
Wiggins looked confused. Guy explained, “We’re hurting. Nothing but small potatoes since retrieving our dognapped canine stars.”
“We might be forced to move out, if we don’t land a decent case,” said Babs. “I’m not looking forward to setting up shop at my house.”
Wiggins inhaled but choked. “You make sure you keep this place spic-and-span. If your neighbors start belly achin’…”
From inside his desk, Guy took out a sardine from its wax paper wrapping and tossed it to their pelican.
“Sniff…sniff… If you don’t get rid of this stench,” Wiggins continued, “my boss’ll make sure he throws you out on your arse.”
She plucked a bottle of cheap toilet water from her purse and spritzed the room. “Better now?”
Wiggins pointed toward the exit. “Goin’ after that mouser. Left the back door open to the alley downstairs. He’s liable to slip out and get lost forever.”
Babs handed her partner a feather duster. “Do something.” Then she returned to her lair with a stack of discarded tabloids to make fresh litter and to do her own skewed interpretation of housekeeping.
Guy reset their wall clock, which was a few hours behind the last time they had a power outage, and gave the reception area the minimal once-over by removing accumulated grime from the top of file cabinets. He was just about to straighten the frame displaying his private investigator’s license, when out of the side of his eye, he noticed a shadow. A large, irregular object leaned against the pebbled glass window of their front door. At first he paid it no mind and continued his cleanup crusade.
When minutes passed and it hadn’t budged, he called out just above a whisper, “Do you mind coming over? Make it quick, but be quiet.”
A startled canary flew out their open transom as Babs breezed toward the front. Guy pointed to the silhouetted figure. “I tidied up, like you asked, but don’t recall hearing anyone approach. This thing…it appeared out of nowhere and hasn’t moved since.”
Babs called out to see if it was Wiggins, but whomever it was didn’t respond. She inquired again. “The door is open. Come on in. We’re too hot and tired for practical jokes.”
With a nod, she gave Guy the go-ahead to open the door, but when he did, a young woman they’d never seen before, wearing a hat and an oversized coat despite the heatwave, fell face-forward onto the floor.
“The casting office is on the fourth floor,” Babs said, until she realized the lady hadn’t moved or said a word. Horrified, she squealed and froze in place.
Guy, also shaking, reached for the phone and called Wiggins’ downstairs office. His voice broke up. “Come up—pronto!”
As soon as he put down the receiver, she demanded he call the cops. Without thinking, she leapt up on a wooden chair as if she’d seen a mouse. Her legs wobbled, and she continued to holler.
Wiggins returned, heaving as if he had skipped waiting for the elevator and sprinted up the stairs. He had the missing tomcat draped over his shoulders. “Heard screams echoing down the hallway. You better keep better tabs on your tabbies. What the blarney did ya think was so important—Holy moly! Mary, Mother of God!”
Guy poked the stranger with his feather duster. Not having any luck, Wiggins, who was bigger than the two detectives combined, got a firm toehold with his work boots and rolled her onto her back. All three stared at the stiff.
“Oh, she’s dead alright,” Wiggins assured them. “Ever seen her before?”
Both PIs shook their heads. Guy tiptoed around the corpse and closed the front door. Wiggins fended off their curious menagerie.
“Something dark and…fea-ther-y is protruding from her coat. Like she was trying to conceal whatever she was carrying.” Babs wrinkled her nose. “Smells like she or someone else doused her with…men’s cologne. Not flowery enough to be one a lady would wear. Wiggins, how do you think she got in?”
“Through the back-alley door, I suppose, ’cause I locked the front. Could’ve snuck in and been here a while. Maybe passed out in a stairwell while my back was turned and crawled up to your floor before she expired.”
Guy paced the room and checked the clock. “The cops seem to be taking their time.” He pulled a flask from his file cabinet and took a swig. He offered some to Babs, but she declined.
Wiggins wrested the flask out of Guy’s hand and finished it to the last drop. “Sure as hell, this would have to happen on a holiday when the police are short-staffed.” He took a swatter from off the wall and clobbered a pesky fly that landed on the stranger’s ear. Babs trembled.
“She can feel it no more than if you were all doped up at the dentist,” Wiggins said.
Babs commented that the police could examine the body. She wasn’t touching it.
Guy suggested to Wiggins to wait for the cops downstairs. “They’ll need you to unlock the building.”
Keeping his distance, Guy asked, “Babs, how do you think she died?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” She made it clear she wasn’t even interested in slipping on gloves to search for an ID.
He suggested that this could be the lead they’ve been looking for. She didn’t see it that way. “This is no way to spend a holiday. Let the police and the medical examiner do their jobs. They’ve expressed they don’t want us meddling in their homicide cases, anyway. I just want her out of here.”
Soon, they heard footsteps and the sound of crunching paper. She took for granted the cops had arrived. “Come in. It’s unlocked.”
She and her partner didn’t make a move until the front door creaked open.
Instead of the police, Humphrey Bogart stood there holding a parcel haphazardly wrapped in brown paper and twine. “I called twice. Assumed you had an answering service to leave a message. Dialed the right number, but someone with a peculiar voice like a Warner Brothers cartoon picked up. When I tried to explain my predicament, he mocked me and cracked a few jokes. Figured I better stop over.”
“How did you get into our building?” Guy asked.
“Your janitor recognized me. When I asked to see you, he figured I was harmless. He said he was waiting for—” Babs interrupted his train of thought. Still standing on the chair, she covered her eyes with one hand and pointed to the floor without making a sound. Bogie backed up. The blood drained from his face. “Whoa! Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was expecting the cops.”
A black cat jumped on top of the victim and started making biscuits. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Guy bent down to throw him off.
“Wh-a-a-t happened?” Bogie’s words came out choppy.
Babs regained her voice, which, at first, came out in squeaks. “Not sure. What brings you here?”
“I’m looking for a private investigator. You came highly recommended as some of the best private dicks in town.”
Babs flushed. She preferred a more ladylike elucidation. With no further introductions needed, she ushered Bogart into her office, and Guy followed, grabbing a notepad off his desk. Even though she hated staring at the corpse, she kept her door open to keep an eye out for the police. She kept reminding herself to take deep breaths and not to panic.
“Do you mind clearing your desk?” Bogie held out his parcel. “I’d like to show you what I found on my doorstep this morning.”
With one fell swoop of her arm, the papers went into a spare box, which Babs said she’d sort through later. Bogart put his parcel down on her desk and fanned out his jacket.
“I guess we can skip formalities when the weather beats us into submission. Mind if I take this off?” His shirt was soaked. “This has been one of those days where I’ve felt like an omelet slapped on the Devil’s griddle.”
Babs identified his mysterious object as a museum replica of an ancient Egyptian canopic jar of Horus, the Hawk, the offspring of Isis and Osiris.
“This is much smaller and lighter than the falcon prop in our movie. Ours is about forty-seven pounds of lead. If you dropped it, you could break someone’s toe.” Bogie lifted its lid and revealed a mummified object. Taking special care, he unwrapped its gauze, stained but far from looking ancient, to reveal a sizable dead crow.
“I have no idea what this is supposed to symbolize, but now it looks like I’ve got competition from what’s in your front room as to which gives me the worst case of the heebie-jeebies,” Bogie remarked.
Guy pulled the privacy shades down on the pebbled glass windows on the walls and door separating the front office from her inner sanctum. “One would presume to find a dead falcon, not a raven, considering you’re in the middle of production for The Maltese Falcon.”
* * *
Excerpt from Bye Bye Blackbird by Elizabeth Crowens. Copyright 2025 by Elizabeth Crowens. Reproduced with permission from Elizabeth Crowens. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Elizabeth Crowens is bi-coastal between Los Angeles and New York. For over thirty years, she has worn many hats in the entertainment industry, contributed stories to Black Belt, Black Gate, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazines, Hell’s Heart, and the Bram Stoker-nominated A New York State of Fright, and has a popular Caption Contest on Facebook.
Awards include: Leo B. Burstein Scholarship from the MWA-NY Chapter, New York Foundation of the Arts grant to publish the anthology New York: Give Me Your Best or Your Worst (no longer in print), Eric Hoffer Award, Glimmer Train Awards Honorable Mention, Killer Nashville Claymore Award Finalist, two Grand prize, six First prize, and multiple Finalist Chanticleer Awards. Crowens writes multi-genre alternate history and historical Hollywood mysteries.
A bizarre mystery and murder set during Hollywood's
Golden Age threatens the filming of The Maltese Falcon.
Bye Bye Blackbird is the second in author Elizabeth
Crowens's Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery series featuring
PI partners Babs Norman and Guy Brandt. The story opens on July 4, 1941. The
war is on in Europe, and principal photography on the film, The Maltese
Falcon, has just started when a dead woman tumbles into the reception area
of B. Norman Investigations. As Babs, Guy, and Wiggins, the property
caretaker, await the police, Humphrey Bogart arrives with a bizarre mummy-wrapped
crow in an Egyptian canopic jar that was left at the front door of his home
that morning. A similar bird is found to be tucked inside the dead woman's
clothing, and the following day, Mary Astor, Bogart's co-star in the film, receives
one at her home as well. Babs and Guy are hired to discover who is behind the
creepy deliveries and why.
Babs and Guy, the two friends and partners, are a fun duo to
watch as they conduct a well-structured investigation on their way to finding
the truth. Babs still struggles to be taken seriously as a PI (even by her
mother), while Guy is constrained from revealing his true nature. I enjoyed
their brother-and-sister style relationship, their closeness, camaraderie, and constant
bickering. I worried about Bab's decision to get involved with Detective Felix
Allgood to gain him as a sympathetic source of insider information eventually.
He was smarmy and more, and something just didn't feel right.
The plot moves steadily forward as Babs and Guy must work
their case around the activities of the two Hollywood police detectives, and
there are few clues to jump-start the process. Starting from scratch, they
interview Bogart's fellow castmates and others involved with the making of the
film as the dead birds and the appearance of the dead woman seem to mirror
aspects of its story. Their suspect list reads like a Hollywood's "Who's
Who," and the individual interviews, with the likes of John Huston, Sidney
Greenstreet, and character actor Elisha Cook, Jr., to name a few, are full of
Hollywood gossip, trivia, and history. Slowly but surely, the story comes out.
I recommend BYE BYE BLACKBIRD to readers of historical cozy
mysteries, fans of the previous novel in the series, and those who are
interested in stories featuring filmmaking or the Golden Age of Hollywood.
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Historical Cozy Mystery 3rd in Series Setting - 1958 New York City Publisher: Crooked Lane Books (March 11, 2025) Hardcover: 288 pages ISBN-13: 979-8892420266 /Digital ASIN: B0D6V3Q3JL
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About The Socialite's Guide to Sleuthing and Secrets
Hotel heiress Evelyn Murphy is on the hunt for a cunning killer and a mysterious thief in the third Pinnacle Hotel mystery, perfect for fans of Rhys Bowen and Ashley Weaver.
New York, 1958. When Evelyn’s mail is delivered during a luncheon in the Gold Room, she’s surprised to find she has received a diamond tiara, which catches the attention of a costume jewelry sales team lunching nearby. Their leader, Lois Mitchel, is especially interested, but by the end of the lunch, Lois has choked and fallen into Evelyn’s lap—and by the end of the day, she’s dead.
The papers report on the death the next day, while also spreading news of a Gentleman Thief who’s been leaving behind a red pocket square after robbing the city’s wealthiest. Determined to figure out what happened to Lois, Evelyn devotes herself to the investigation.
The truth is as rare as a diamond and just as hard to crack, and Evelyn swiftly discovers that this particular mystery is multifaceted, too. From costume jewelry hawkers to wannabe Robin Hoods and a detective in residence at the Pinnacle, nothing is simple. But neither is Evelyn—and this case is hers to solve.
S.K. Golden writes cozy mysteries and crime capers. Born and raised in the Florida Keys, she married a commercial fisherman. The two of them still live on the islands with their five kids (one boy, four girls — including identical twins!), two cats, and a corgi named Goku. Sarah graduated from Saint Leo University with a bachelor’s degree in Human Services and Administration and has put it to good use approximately zero times. She’s worked as a bank teller, a pharmacy technician, and an executive assistant at her father’s church. Sarah is delighted to be doing none of those things now.
The Socialite’s Guide to Sleuthing and Secrets is the
third novel in author S.K. Golden’s nostalgic, fun, and frothy Pinnacle
Hotel Mysteries and is an excellent addition to the series. Engaging
characters, a suspected murder, and a jewel thief, all combine for a comfortable
and entertaining story.
The main character is Evelyn Murphy, the daughter of the wealthy
owner of the Pinnacle Hotel, who lives onsite and fulfills the role of party
planner for the company. With two successful investigations under her belt,
Evelyn is more than ready to take on this latest case of murder mistaken as an
accidental death. With each book, this sweet amateur detective grows a little
bit more as she learns to cope with her ongoing agoraphobia, finding her place
and expanding her life beyond the mental and physical confines of the hotel. In
this story, Evelyn also deals with the absence of her former boyfriend and sleuthing
sidekick, Mac. However, she is joined by a great group of secondary characters,
including her new personal assistant, Poppy, her good friend and Hollywood star,
Henry Fox, and the former city police detective, Hodgson, who now works for the
hotel as well.
The mystery kicks off early with the sudden demise of a
lunch guest in the first couple of pages, and the action never lets up as
Evelyn finds evidence that the death was no accident. As always, the 1950s
timeframe is fun and nostalgic, and the posh hotel is a glorious setting. In addition
to the murder, a notorious jewel thief is targeting the Pinnacle’s guests. The
author provides suspects and clues for the sharp-eyed and sharp-witted armchair
detective to note on their way to the climactic resolution.
While this is the third book in the Pinnacle Hotel saga, it
stands well enough on its own to entertain readers new to the series. I recommend
THE SOCIALITE’S GUIDE TO SLEUTHING AND SECRETS to readers who enjoy cozy
historical mysteries.
Historical Cozy Mystery 12th in Series Setting - West End of London, Summer, 1941 Publisher: JDP Press (December 9, 2024) Paperback: 301 pages ISBN-13: 979-8992015218 / Digital ASIN: B0DNNQ23F4
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About Deadly Performance
Behind the spotlights and glamour lurk secrets and murder.
Amid the grim realities of wartime Britain, inside during the blackout hidden from the tatters left by the Blitz, glitz and glamour live onstage in the West End. But at one theater, The Regent, a malevolent force is causing escalating problems. Sabotage, damage and injury feed mistrust among the cast and crew.
Then during opening night, the hated director drops dead from poison, and Olivia Redmond's colorful, kindly editor is arrested for murder. Determined to investigate, Olivia finds secrets piling up among the bodies. But which secret leads to a crafty killer who won't hesitate to remove anyone in their way, including Olivia.
Kate Parker has long wanted to build a time travel machine. However, after several false starts, she gave up and created time travel by going back in time inside her books. Since she's fond of murder mysteries, it is probably best that all of her travel is inside books or police from various ages would be hunting her. When not recreating old time buildings and fashions, she can be found with a modern computer and modern air conditioning in North Carolina with her daughter and a 115 lb. puppy who could just crash through any time barrier.
Sometimes danger lurks in plain sight, and in the cutthroat London Season socialite Lily Adler must race against time to catch a killer.
Fans of Bridgerton will delight in this Regency-era mystery featuring an intrepid sleuth, plenty of intrigue, and a touch of romance.
London, 1817. The London Season is beginning once more, and Lily Adler’s return to her home on Half Moon Street feels different this year. No longer a recent widow, she has a life and friends waiting for her. Lily also has new responsibilities in the form of her protégée Amelia, the sister of her longtime friend Jack Hartley, who is escaping her own brush with scandal and murder.
It doesn’t take long for Lily’s growing reputation as a lady of quality who can discreetly find what is missing or solve what is puzzling to bring a desperate young woman to her doorstep. But helping her means unraveling a tangled web of family secrets. Soon, a missing will, a dead body and the threat of blackmail leave Lily facing danger every way she turns.
The glittering society of Mayfair conceals many secrets, and the back alleys of London hide even more. Lily Adler will need to find the connection between them quickly if she wants to stop a killer before it’s too late.
Praise for A Scandal in Mayfair:
"A perfect London crime novel... Fast paced, expertly researched, and intricately plotted." ~ Alex Grecian, New York Times bestselling author
"The strong characters will appeal to readers of the Bridgerton romances, as well as those who appreciate Georgette Heyer’s stories." ~ Library Journal
Book Details:
Genre: Historical Cozy Mystery Published by: Crooked Lane Books Publication Date: August 20, 2024 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 9781639108411 (ISBN10: 1639108416) Series: A Lily Adler Mystery, Book #5 | Each is a Stand Alone Book Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House
Read an excerpt:
“You are Mrs. Adler? You do not look anything like I expected,” the young woman said bluntly. “I thought that someone who offers such investigations would be . . . more dramatic, I suppose. But you are very nearly plain. Well, not plain,” she added apologetically, looking Lily over once more. “Your gown is beautifully made, I must say, and you are very elegant—a tall figure helps with that, I suppose.” She sighed, glancing down at her own figure, which was of average height and rather waiflike. “But I thought you would be more glamorous. Is it not a glamorous occupation that you have?”
“Hardly an occupation,” Lily said firmly. Miss Forrest was not wrong; with unremarkable coloring and looks only just on the pretty side of average, elegant was the best descriptor Lily could hope for from an impartial observer. But it still rankled to be sized up so bluntly. “And not a genteel one, if it were. Besides, I think what you have heard of are discreet inquiries for those who need them. A dramatic or imposing appearance would hardly serve that purpose.”
“Oh, indeed. That does make sense.” The girl’s eyes were wide as she nodded along. “That is what Mrs. Mannering said—that you were the soul of discretion. I am so hoping it is true, believe me. My predicament is dreadful, and it would become even worse were it to be
widely known and discussed.”
“That is often the case, especially in town,” Lily said, but her eyes narrowed as she spoke. The Mannerings’ daughter had disappeared one night, leaving no trace of where she might have gone, and they had been beside themselves when Lily arrived for tea with a mutual
friend. She knew Mrs. Mannering to be a loose-tongued woman, so rather than offering to help directly, she had presented them with one of her cards and suggested that her “acquaintance” might track down their daughter.
The daughter had been located—she had become so fed up with her parents’ matrimonial ambitions that she had run away to the home of her aunt—and the Mannerings had never known that it was Lily herself who had found her.
“So it was Mrs. Mannering who suggested you contact the lady of quality?” On the one hand, Mrs. Mannering loved to gossip. On the other hand, sharing such a story about her own daughter would hardly reflect well on her, even if that daughter was now well married. And Lily had no interest in assisting someone who began with lying to her.
“Yes,” the young woman said, nodding.
Lily waited silently, her brows rising just a hair.
“No . . .” Miss Forrest stretched the word out hesitantly, biting her lip as she looked away. “That is to say, not exactly. Mrs. Mannering mentioned that someone had assisted them with a sort of inquiry—she made it sound dreadfully dramatic, which is why I thought—well, and she showed my cousin, who is my companion, and me the lady of quality’s card over tea. And I was already so worried, and in need of help, that I—I took it.” The final words came out in a rush, and the girl looked suddenly both deflated and relieved. “I stole it, I suppose. And then I wrote because I so desperately needed someone to help me. Can you?” She raised her eyes hopefully to Lily’s.
“Perhaps,” Lily said. “Though beginning with a falsehood does not bode well.” Miss Forrest’s face fell, and she looked like nothing so much as a scolded puppy. Lily sighed. “Tell me what it is you need assistance with.” She glanced at Clive and added coldly, “And how you come into it, sir. Then I shall make up my mind.”
Miss Sarah Forrest sat up very straight. “I need your assistance to escape my uncle. I fear he has stolen all the money my father intended for me to inherit.” Her mouth and hands both trembled, and she clasped her fingers together tightly to keep them still. “He says it is for my own good that he controls my inheritance. But I do not believe my father would do such a thing. And now, because he has kept my independence from me, my uncle is preventing me from marrying in order to keep me dependent on him, perhaps forever.”
Lily sat back against the bench. She glanced at Clive. “And that is where you come into it, I suppose?”
He, still standing, bowed. “I have asked Miss Forrest to marry me, yes. We met during the winter and were instantly in sympathy with each other.”
“Mr. Clive’s family is from Suffolk, and his property is there too, of course.” Miss Forrest said, holding out her hand to her suitor. “But he felt so dreadfully isolated that he came to London last winter.”
“I had not recalled that your family was from Suffolk,” Lily said, her eyes fixed on Clive. Her hands were clenched into fists by her sides; she took a deep breath, trying to relax them. “How forgetful of me.”
“No matter,” Miss Forrest went on, not noticing Lily’s tone. Clive’s sideways glance, however, said he had not missed it. “Such a handsome, charming young man is much better suited to life in town, do you not think?”
“My dear Sarah is too kind to me,” Clive said gallantly, taking the hand she held out to him, giving her a warm smile as he pressed it between his. “And I am fortunate indeed that she is. She is the love of my life.”
“So Miss Forrest said in her letter,” Lily said a little more cynically than she intended. But it was impossible to keep a completely straight face as she watched their romantic interlude, or as she remembered the melodramatic turns of phrase the young woman had employed.
“Yes.” Miss Forrest smiled at her sweetheart, showing no hesitation or embarrassment over her elevated prose. “He is a most dashing, wonderful young man. Though I hardly need tell you that,” she added earnestly, turning back to Lily, “as you are already acquainted.”
They were acquainted. And when Lily had met him in her aunt’s small Hampshire village, he was a cardsharp and a bookmaker, accepted into more elevated circles than the ones into which he had been born because nearly every young man with pretensions to dissipation owed him money. No one had trusted him, but no one could risk offending him either. He knew it, and he despised those around him even as he needed them in turn.
Once or twice, Lily had thought she saw a hint of the more admirable man he might have become had he chosen a different path. But if there was, he had not bothered to cultivate it. And he had made no secret of his plan, during that brief week of their acquaintance, to use his ill-gotten income to one day place himself in the role of a gentleman and improve his lot in life.
It seemed he had succeeded. Or would have, if Miss Forrest’s inheritance had not disappeared.
“But it seems this dashing, wonderful young man will not marry you without your inheritance?” Lily asked.
That prompted a scowl from Miss Forrest. “I know what you are thinking, ma’am. But you are wrong. My dear Mr. Clive has some money of his own. The problem we face is that my uncle will not give his consent.”
“How old are you, Miss Forrest?” Lily asked, glancing sideways at Clive.
“I am not yet two-and-twenty,” Miss Forrest said sitting up very straight, as though to look as mature and worldly as possible.
“Then you are legally able to marry, even without your uncle’s consent,” Lily said pragmatically. “If it is not a question of needing your inheritance, why not simply do so?”
Clive sighed. “Because—”
But Miss Forrest broke in. “Just because he is not marrying me for my money does not mean we’ve no need of something to live on,” she said, the irritation plain in her voice. She gave Lily a look up and down. “You will forgive me for saying, ma’am, but you look like you are no stranger to comfort. Is it so wrong that we might wish for the same in our own lives?”
Lily wanted to argue the point, but it was a reasonable one. Or it would have been, were it not for what she knew of the gentleman in question. “Very well,” she said, inclining her head. “I merely wish to know all the facts of the situation.”
“And if I had come to you for marriage advice, your interference might be warranted,” Miss Forrest snapped, her cheeks going splotchy with irritation. “But I did not.”
“Sarah,” Clive said before Lily could reply. When she glanced at him, his smile was firmly in place, but there was a cynical edge to it. “It is a mark of her good character that she asks such questions. Mrs. Adler does not know me as you do.”
Miss Forrest took a deep breath, reining in her emotions once more. “I suppose. But my uncle’s refusing his consent only proves my concern is warranted.” She clasped her book tightly against her midsection, as though it were a shield she could hide behind. “Even if my father did change his will, whatever inheritance my uncle is currently steward of would pass from Uncle Forrest’s control to that of my husband if I marry. What other reason could he have for refusing his consent if not to keep control of those funds?”
“Skepticism of your suitor, perhaps?” Lily murmured.
“But we have never met,” Clive put in. “He has refused to do so.”
“Which is also suspicious!” Miss Forrest declared.
Lily glanced around. Miss Forrest’s emphatic tones had drawn curious stares from the couples strolling nearby. One of the women glanced at them several times, though she had not stopped talking to the man with her. A feeling of unease settled in Lily’s stomach. She
thought she recognized the woman, though she could not put a name to the face.
She needed to leave this conversation as soon as possible.
“Well,” she said, tapping the tips of her fingers together, “you tell an interesting story.”
Miss Forrest met Lily’s eyes; her own, for the first time, were wide and sober. “I know it sounds like something out of a novel. But it is the truth. All I want is to reclaim the independence that should be mine.”
“Then you would be best served by speaking to your father’s solicitor,” Lily said briskly. “He would be able to assist you in understanding how your father left things, I’ve no doubt.”
The young lady scowled, her cheeks flushing red. “I do not know who his solicitor was. And for obvious reasons, I cannot ask my uncle for the name.”
“Then what is it you are hoping I will do?” Lily said. “I am one woman, Miss Forrest. I cannot retrieve your money for you.”
“I know that. But my uncle will have a copy of my father’s will in his house, and I think I know where it would be.” The girl leaned forward, her breath coming quickly and her hands trembling once more. “I want to hire you to steal it for me so I can prove what he has done.”
***
Excerpt from A Scandal in Mayfair by Katharine Schellman. Copyright 2024 by Katharine Schellman. Reproduced with permission from Katharine Schellman. All rights reserved.
Review:
5 stars!
Another exciting adventure for Lily and her friends!
A Scandal in Mayfair is the fifth book in the
excellent Lily Adler Mystery series by Katharine Schellman and brings the
action right to Lily’s doorstep. Wonderful characters, unique problems to
solve, and an immersive Regency London setting all work together to cement this
series as one of my new favorites.
One aspect of the book (and the entire) series that I really
admire is Schellman’s character development; I feel like I know these people as
real individuals. Lily and her friends and close members of her social group are
distinctly different from one another. While they function within the narrow
confines of their small society and, therefore, must act within the strictures
of the time, the author has crafted believable, diverse personalities. I enjoy
all the main characters, but Fanny Andrews has grabbed a special place with me.
The Regency London comes alive as the characters both go
about their normal daily activities and pursue their inquiries. Lily and her
friends are at home in these surroundings, and their confidence in navigating society
drew me comfortably into the scenes. The descriptions are vivid and natural
without slowing down the action. I could easily visualize persons and places
almost as if I were there.
The plot unfolds at a spirited pace with seemingly unrelated
inquiries requiring Lily’s special attention, which are cleverly conjoined as the
story progresses. With this being the fifth book in the series, there is
starting to be quite a history of success stories, and the core of friends
involved in their resolution has expanded over time. However, readers should
rest assured this book stands well on its own without needing to have read the previous
novels. (But, really, don’t miss them!) Characters from earlier books do return
to assist Lily in her latest undertakings and, in one instance, to threaten her
reputation with the ton.
I recommend A SCANDAL IN MAYFAIR to historical cozy
mysteries, especially those who enjoy the Regency period and fans of the previous
Lily Adler Mysteries.
Author Bio:
Katharine Schellman is a former actor and one-time political consultant. These days, she writes the Regency-set Lily Adler Mysteries and Jazz Age Nightingale Mysteries. Her books have been praised in outlets from Library Journal to The New York Times, with reviewers calling them “worthy of Agatha Christie or Rex Stout” (Library Journal). Katharine writes in the mountains of Virginia, where she lives with her husband, children, and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.
1st in Series Setting – 1920s London, England Publisher:K.E. O’Connor Books Publication Date: January 16, 2024 Number of Pages: 225 pages Digital ASIN: B0CL2HDFSM
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SYNOPSIS:
A fading star, a puzzling death, and a mystery that must be solved!
Veronica Vale spent a turbulent few years serving her country during the Great War - doing more than her role in the exchange network suggested! Now back on British soil and adjusting to life as an obituary writer for her uncle's newspaper, while caring for her ailing mother, Veronica has gotten used to a slower (and safer) pace of life.
Excitement comes from fun parties, walks with Benji, her beloved rescue dog, and volunteering at the Dogs' Home.
When an old family friend, and former superstar of the theatre, Florence Sterling, is discovered dead in her dressing room at the Winter Garden Theatre in London, Veronica is curious to discover what happened to the sweet, funny, ruthlessly ambitious beauty.
Much to the dismay of her sometimes nemesis Inspector Templeton, Veronica is tasked with writing Florence's obituary. And what she learns will blow the roof off the theatre! That's if she survives to tell the tale.
If you love witty dialogue, historical glamour, intrigue, and a fast-paced cozy mystery set in 1920s England, then you'll adore Kitty Kildare's unputdownable whodunits.
If you love witty dialogue, historical glamour, intrigue, and a fast-paced cozy mystery set in 1920s England, then you'll adore Kitty Kildare's unputdownable whodunits.
“At last!” Hetty reappeared at the door, and Peregrine growled at her. “You caught the nuisance. His brother and him were such pests whenever I worked. They were always getting in the way or nipping at my ankles.”
“There’s another pug in residence?” I asked. “I was only told about one in need of collection.”
Hetty waved a hand in the air. “It’s not here! I put together a box of the animal’s things. If you don’t take them, I’ll only throw them out.”
“I’ll take the toys. Peregrine will welcome his familiar things since his world has been so grievously upturned.”
“It’s by the front door.” Hetty shook her head as she regarded the pug with a shrewish look.
“Florence treated those creatures like they were babies, not animals.”
“It’s a point of fact that we are all animals,” I said.
Hetty sniffed again. “Not by my reckoning. Time for you to go. You got what you came for.”
I stopped by a photograph hanging from a picture rail on the wall. “Your former employer must have been someone of note. These pictures are of famous people.”
Hetty looked at me as if I’d said something ridiculous. “Of course she was. Everyone knew Flo.
And they all loved her. Mind you, they wouldn’t have been so fond of her if they had to clean up after her. She was almost as messy as her dogs, God rest her soul.”
“Florence was in the theatre business?”
“She was. You really must leave. I have so much to do.” Hetty marched to the door, lifted a box, and held it out to me.
I followed her to the door. “What about the other dog? I may as well collect them both. Where will I find him?”
Hetty tilted her head. “You don’t know what happened to Flo?”
“All I was told was there was an animal that needed rescuing because his owner died. I knew the woman’s name was Florence, and I was given this address. Is there something else I should know?”
Hetty pulled herself upright. “I should have said earlier. They found the other dog with Flo’s body. It’ll most likely be in the pound or have run off if the coppers didn’t grab it. That one was always escaping out the door if you didn’t watch for it.”
This news didn’t thrill me. The police dog pound was a notoriously unpleasant place, all cold floors and metal, and whenever I could, I got the dogs out and arranged for them to be fostered, or moved them to the much more appealing dogs’ home on the other side of the river.
“Where did Florence die?” I asked.
Hetty looked smug at having more information than I did, but I tried not to let it bristle.
“I don’t like to gossip,” she finally said.
“I’m sure you’ll make an exception on this occasion. Once I know everything, I’ll take this pug, and you’ll never see either of us again.”
“Florence took the dogs with her when she worked,” Hetty said. “But that one you’re holding wasn’t feeling well, so she left it behind. She was supposed to be home that night, but she never showed.”
“Did that not concern you?”
“I don’t live in. I have lodgings across town, so I didn’t know she hadn’t come home. Flo has several London homes, or she’d stay at a nearby hotel when she was working.”
“She died in a hotel?”
“I can’t tell you where she died. When the police came here, they said she’d passed last night after her performance. She was found when her other dog, Quillon, alerted to a problem. It kept barking.” Hetty’s expression grew sharp and shrivelled, as if she smelled something unpleasant. “The coppers wouldn’t tell me anything else, despite having worked for Flo for thirty years. If you need to know more, go to the Winter Garden Theatre. That was her second home, and where she held her last performance. The staff there should know more.”
I drew in a sharp breath. My gaze went to the sitting room with its photographs of dazzling bygone era theatre stars. “Flo. Florence. Are you talking about the theatre star, Florence Sterling?”
“And now the penny drops. The very same. And you’re standing in her home, holding one of her pugs,” Hetty said. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
REVIEW:
Coming soon!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Immerse yourself into Kitty Kildare's cleverly woven historical British mysteries. Follow the mystery in the Veronica Vale Investigates series and enjoy the dazzle and delights of 1920s England. Kitty is a not-so-secret pen name of established cozy mystery author K.E. O’Connor, who decided she wanted to time travel rather than cast spells! Enjoy the twists and turns.
