Coattails and Cocktails
by Rumer Haven
Genre: Historical Mystery, Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Fallen Monkey Press
Cover Designer: RoseWolf Design
Publisher: Fallen Monkey Press
Cover Designer: RoseWolf Design
Release Date: September 14, 2017
A body clearly shaken, but not stirring…
Summer, 1929. Murder isn’t on the menu when Chicago tycoon Ransom Warne hosts a dinner party at his country estate. But someone’s a victim—and everyone’s a suspect—when drinks and desires lead to disaster.
Hollywood starlet Lottie Landry has returned home to celebrate her engagement. She’s famous for her on- and off-screen romance with co-star Noble, but, privately, she’s having second thoughts. As her former guardian, Ransom doesn’t approve of the match. Yet his own affections raise questions when his wife, Edith, suspects him of having an affair—just as Noble suspects Lottie. Stirred into the mix are Lottie’s friends Helen and Rex, a young journalist and football hero who can feel tension building in the Warne mansion like a shaken champagne bottle.
And once the cork pops, a body drops.
Coattails and Cocktails is where Agatha Christie meets The Great Gatsby, a whodunit spiked with new love and old baggage, public faces and private vices. Filled to the brim with romance and mystery, it’s sure to intoxicate.
Still laughing, Rex bit his lip. His gaze dipped below her shoulders, reminding her of her revealing, as-yet wet garments. She pursed her lips into the smile-pout she’d become famous for and held her eyes on him as she swung the loose end of the towel back around her.
“How is Henry, anyway?”
“Good. Has his degree now and sights set on a new crime detection lab in Chicago. It’s only just opened, and he’s not nearly experienced enough but hoping to get under someone’s wing there. Meeting with some affiliates this weekend, in fact, which is why he can’t be here.”
“Won’t he follow your father in DuPage county?”
“Naw, not as a long-term career, anyway, and Pop’s glad of it. The way it was when we were growing up, it wasn’t a life. Not for him, at least, not outside law enforcement. And Henry wants to explore the science of crime. Guess there’s more to forensics than fingerprints.” As if punctuating his sentence, he raised his index finger.
Lottie did the same, pressing the pad of her finger to his. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a side-grin. “I think fingerprints are still effective. In the right places.”
A snort burst from across the room. Helen, who’d settled herself at Ransom’s roll-top desk during this exchange, had apparently reached her limit on silence.
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt, darlings. Must be all this nature getting to me.” She swiped a hand over her nose. “City girl, country allergies. Unless I’m catching cold from our swim?”
Grasping the chair’s wooden arms, Helen shivered from her head to torso. “Time to dip in a warm bath.” She gathered her towel as she rose and draped it like a mink stole around her shoulders. “Carry on.” Waving her hand, she exited to the foyer.
Rex grew redder than his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. Though not nearly as risqué as her and Helen’s pool-soaked frocks, his wet, pale shirt clung to him in rather interesting ways, which Lottie took the opportunity to notice while he shyly looked to the carpet. She stepped closer and released one end of her towel again to lay her fingers on his wrist.
He shifted on his feet.
“I,” she began, then stopped when he met her gaze. So used to fans’ stares and critics’ jeers, women’s glares and men’s leers, she rarely met a sincere eye. To chance on one like his, she wanted to preserve it forever.
“How is Henry, anyway?”
“Good. Has his degree now and sights set on a new crime detection lab in Chicago. It’s only just opened, and he’s not nearly experienced enough but hoping to get under someone’s wing there. Meeting with some affiliates this weekend, in fact, which is why he can’t be here.”
“Won’t he follow your father in DuPage county?”
“Naw, not as a long-term career, anyway, and Pop’s glad of it. The way it was when we were growing up, it wasn’t a life. Not for him, at least, not outside law enforcement. And Henry wants to explore the science of crime. Guess there’s more to forensics than fingerprints.” As if punctuating his sentence, he raised his index finger.
Lottie did the same, pressing the pad of her finger to his. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a side-grin. “I think fingerprints are still effective. In the right places.”
A snort burst from across the room. Helen, who’d settled herself at Ransom’s roll-top desk during this exchange, had apparently reached her limit on silence.
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt, darlings. Must be all this nature getting to me.” She swiped a hand over her nose. “City girl, country allergies. Unless I’m catching cold from our swim?”
Grasping the chair’s wooden arms, Helen shivered from her head to torso. “Time to dip in a warm bath.” She gathered her towel as she rose and draped it like a mink stole around her shoulders. “Carry on.” Waving her hand, she exited to the foyer.
Rex grew redder than his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. Though not nearly as risqué as her and Helen’s pool-soaked frocks, his wet, pale shirt clung to him in rather interesting ways, which Lottie took the opportunity to notice while he shyly looked to the carpet. She stepped closer and released one end of her towel again to lay her fingers on his wrist.
He shifted on his feet.
“I,” she began, then stopped when he met her gaze. So used to fans’ stares and critics’ jeers, women’s glares and men’s leers, she rarely met a sincere eye. To chance on one like his, she wanted to preserve it forever.
Learn more about Rumer at www.rumerhaven.com.
Email: rumerhaven@gmail.com
Street Team: Haven’s Ravens
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