The Nightingale
Detective Agency
A Charlotte Van Elsberg Mystery Book 1
by Denise Devine
Genre: 1920’s Historical Cozy Mystery
St. Paul,
1926—where ambition comes at a cost, especially for a woman.
Charlotte Van Elsberg is determined to become the city’s first female private
investigator and help women in need. She’s already landed her first case: a
grieving mother who wants answers about her daughter, Eleanor Kimball, a
debutante killed in a suspicious car crash. Was it truly an accident or
something more sinister? Char intends to find out. There’s just one
hitch—Char’s husband.
Will Van Elsberg, a seasoned investigator, knows the job too well. It’s no
profession for a petite young lady, and he’s not about to let his wife charge
headfirst into danger. Char has other ideas. She agrees to hire bodyguards to
satisfy his objections.
However, despite the addition of her “new team,” she soon learns that this job
is a lot harder than it appears. Doors slam in her face, alibis don’t add up,
and everyone appears to be hiding something. Does she have the grit
and determination it takes to solve this case?
The more she digs into Eleanor’s carefully polished life, the more she uncovers
the young woman’s secrets. Hidden truths that someone is desperate to keep
buried. Evidence worth killing for. Now that Char is asking questions, who is
determined to stop her from revealing the missing pieces?
If you love Prohibition-era intrigue
and twisty whodunits, dive into this 1920s cozy mystery filled with clever
clues, hidden secrets, and a bold female sleuth. Grab your copy today and start
sleuthing!
Amazon * Books2Read *
Bookbub
* Goodreads
“Robert can’t know about this,”
Marjorie said in a low, cautious tone. “He believes Eleanor’s death was an
accident and he considers the matter closed. Any attempt to dig up new
information will cause doubt and suspicion, casting a blight on our reputation.”
“I can be very discreet,” I
assured her. “Besides, a woman asking questions isn’t going to cause concern
like it would if a man began poking around.”
Marjorie scrutinized me with a
critical eye. “If I decide to retain your services, what assurances do I have
that you’re trustworthy? I’ve never heard of you. Are you affiliated with
Pinkerton?”
“No, but I do have experience in
handling all manner of issues, and I have great counsel,” I replied, wishing
I’d already chosen a name for my agency. At times like this, having an
official-sounding name made me appear more professional. “My husband is also a
private detective. His reputation is impeccable.”
Marjorie’s amber eyes lit up with
curiosity. “Is that so? Perhaps I should hire him.”
“He’s overloaded with cases right
now,” Ethel said, injecting herself into the conversation. “He shares an office
with an attorney, Peter Garrett, and he works almost exclusively with Peter’s
clients. Willard has needed their services a few times with real estate deals.”
“But can a woman be as
effective?” Marjorie asked, her eyes shadowed with lingering doubt.
Keeping my expression neutral, I
refused to let my disappointment show. I’d expected men to doubt my competence,
but not another woman. “I will get answers for you,” I said firmly, my voice
steady with resolve. “Give me a week. If I haven’t reached a breakthrough by
then, our agreement is off, and you owe me nothing. Fair enough?”
A tall, gray-haired man wearing a
dark tweed suit appeared in the window, scrutinizing us with narrowed eyes.
“What a wonderful garden you
have, Marjorie,” Ethel said loudly and turned her back to the window.
Marjorie glanced back at the
window and turned away quickly as well, confirming to me that the man in
question was her husband, Robert. “My gardener came highly recommended,” she
replied in a nervous, high-pitched voice. “You’ll have to come back in April
when my spring perennials are in full bloom. Perhaps we’ll have luncheon, then,
too.”
Ethel smiled conspiratorially as
the three of us made our way toward her black limousine. “So, the agenda is set
then? Charlotte will meet with you again in a few days to go over the specifics
of the garden club’s next outing.”
Marjorie held off answering until
we reached the car and out of the earshot of her husband. “All right,” she said
to me. “I’ll meet with you again a week from today, but at nine o’clock when
Robert is golfing. In the meantime, you are not to call my house under any
circumstances. Is that clear? Robert must not get wind of what I’m doing, or
he’ll be upset.”
“Yes, I understand,” I replied
with a nod. “I’ll meet you here next Thursday at nine o’clock to give you all
of the information I’ve acquired.”
Marjorie engulfed Ethel with a
hug. “Have a safe drive home.”
I slid into the car with sweaty
palms and a stomach churning with anxiety as Marjorie walked swiftly toward the
house. I’d just promised to give her the information she so desperately needed
in seven days. What possessed me to make such an outrageous claim?
I didn’t care about the
money. I had exactly one week to prove I was worth the trust she’d placed in
me—or be finished as an investigator.
Denise Devine is a USA Today bestselling author
who has had a passion for books since the second grade when she discovered
Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She wrote her first book,
a mystery, at age thirteen and has been writing ever since. She loves all
animals, especially dogs, cats, and horses, and they often find their way into
her books.
She has written twenty-two books, including books
in the Beach Brides series, Moonshine Madness series, and West Loon Bay series.
Her books have hit the Top 100 Bestseller list on Amazon and she has been
listed on Amazon’s Top 100 Authors.
Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bluesky * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
