Mystery
![Stephen Spotswood - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B0852PYDMF.jpg)
Fortune Favors the Dead: A Novel (A Pentecost and Parker Mystery)
"Razor-sharp style, tons of flair, a snappy sense of humor, and all the most satisfying elements of a really good noir novel, plus plenty of original twists of its own."-Tana French
A wildly charming and fast-paced mystery written with all the panache of the hardboiled classics, Fortune Favors the Dead introduces Pentecost and Parker, an audacious new detective duo for the ages.
It's 1942 and Willowjean "Will" Parker is a scrappy circus runaway whose knife-throwing skills have just saved the life of New York's best, and most unorthodox, private investigator, Lillian Pentecost. When the dapper detective summons Will a few days later, she doesn't expect to be offered a life-changing proposition: Lillian's multiple sclerosis means she can't keep up with her old case load alone, so she wants to hire Will to be her right-hand woman. In return, Will is to receive a salary, room and board, and training in Lillian's very particular art of investigation.
Three years later, Will and Lillian are on the Collins case: Abigail Collins was found bludgeoned to death with a crystal ball following a big, boozy Halloween party at her home-her body slumped in the same chair where her steel magnate husband shot himself the year before. With rumors flying that Abigail was bumped off by the vengeful spirit of her husband (who else could have gotten inside the locked room?), the family has tasked the detectives with finding answers where the police have failed.
But that's easier said than done in a case that involves messages from the dead, a seductive spiritualist, and Becca Collins-the beautiful daughter of the deceased, who Will quickly starts falling for. When Will and Becca's relationship dances beyond the professional, Will finds herself in dangerous territory, and discovers she may have become the murderer's next target.
A wildly charming and fast-paced mystery written with all the panache of the hardboiled classics, Fortune Favors the Dead introduces Pentecost and Parker, an audacious new detective duo for the ages.
It's 1942 and Willowjean "Will" Parker is a scrappy circus runaway whose knife-throwing skills have just saved the life of New York's best, and most unorthodox, private investigator, Lillian Pentecost. When the dapper detective summons Will a few days later, she doesn't expect to be offered a life-changing proposition: Lillian's multiple sclerosis means she can't keep up with her old case load alone, so she wants to hire Will to be her right-hand woman. In return, Will is to receive a salary, room and board, and training in Lillian's very particular art of investigation.
Three years later, Will and Lillian are on the Collins case: Abigail Collins was found bludgeoned to death with a crystal ball following a big, boozy Halloween party at her home-her body slumped in the same chair where her steel magnate husband shot himself the year before. With rumors flying that Abigail was bumped off by the vengeful spirit of her husband (who else could have gotten inside the locked room?), the family has tasked the detectives with finding answers where the police have failed.
But that's easier said than done in a case that involves messages from the dead, a seductive spiritualist, and Becca Collins-the beautiful daughter of the deceased, who Will quickly starts falling for. When Will and Becca's relationship dances beyond the professional, Will finds herself in dangerous territory, and discovers she may have become the murderer's next target.
Editorial Reviews
"Bullets, blood, bodies, and belly-laughs: all the ingredients of a classic mystery novel. Stephen Spotswood hard-boils with the best of ‘em!"--Alan Bradley, bestselling author of the Flavia de Luce Mystery Series
"Fortune Favors the Dead takes gritty 40s noir, shakes it up, gives it a charming twist, and serves it up with unforgettable style. My new favorite sleuthing duo are Pentecost and Parker, the spiritual sisters of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. An utterly brilliant debut!"--Deanna Raybourn, author of the Veronica Speedwell Mysteries
"Witty. . . Humorous and fun [with] all the hallmarks of an Agatha Christie mystery, and there's a delightful dose of noir thrown in for the more hardcore pulp fiction crowd, too. . . As mysterious and fun a caper as you will ever read, with plenty of misdirection and intrigue to keep you guessing. You don't need a clairvoyant to realize this duo will be around for years to come."-Bookpage *Starred Review*
"Spotswood's stellar debut puts a modern spin on the classic hard-boiled fiction... The deep and sensitive characterization of the two protagonists coupled with the rich description and tonally spot-on humor, makes this a novel to remember. Spotswood is definitely a writer to watch."--Publishers Weekly *Starred Review*
"One of the most rewarding and entertaining books I've read in years . . . Every page-nay, every paragraph-is rich and compelling. . . When it comes to male authors penning feminist issues that ring true and female characters who are fully realized and complex characters, Spotswood joins Terry Pratchett at the very top of the list. And if anyone's the heir apparent to Phryne Fisher or Elementary's Sherlock and Joan, it's Parker and Pentecost. This is an adventure you'll want to rave about to strangers on the streets. Personally, I'm already impatient for these ladies' next case." -Criminal Element
"A relentlessly entertaining romp through 1940's New York City, and through the annals of mystery fiction, as well, with many sly nods to authors of the past and some invigorating reinventions of classic tropes and gambits. . . Spotswood's style is swift and witty, and the mystery at the novel's heart is a clever knot."-CrimeReads
"Sparkles [with] wit and personality. . . Delightful. . . This mystery plot has all the twists and surprises a fan of the genre could ask for, but it is Will's distinctive, captivating voice and background [that] is Spotswood's real triumph. . . Gutsy Will, with her snappy, slangy narrative style, ultimately wins readers' hearts and carries the day. This classic noir-style myst...
"Fortune Favors the Dead takes gritty 40s noir, shakes it up, gives it a charming twist, and serves it up with unforgettable style. My new favorite sleuthing duo are Pentecost and Parker, the spiritual sisters of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. An utterly brilliant debut!"--Deanna Raybourn, author of the Veronica Speedwell Mysteries
"Witty. . . Humorous and fun [with] all the hallmarks of an Agatha Christie mystery, and there's a delightful dose of noir thrown in for the more hardcore pulp fiction crowd, too. . . As mysterious and fun a caper as you will ever read, with plenty of misdirection and intrigue to keep you guessing. You don't need a clairvoyant to realize this duo will be around for years to come."-Bookpage *Starred Review*
"Spotswood's stellar debut puts a modern spin on the classic hard-boiled fiction... The deep and sensitive characterization of the two protagonists coupled with the rich description and tonally spot-on humor, makes this a novel to remember. Spotswood is definitely a writer to watch."--Publishers Weekly *Starred Review*
"One of the most rewarding and entertaining books I've read in years . . . Every page-nay, every paragraph-is rich and compelling. . . When it comes to male authors penning feminist issues that ring true and female characters who are fully realized and complex characters, Spotswood joins Terry Pratchett at the very top of the list. And if anyone's the heir apparent to Phryne Fisher or Elementary's Sherlock and Joan, it's Parker and Pentecost. This is an adventure you'll want to rave about to strangers on the streets. Personally, I'm already impatient for these ladies' next case." -Criminal Element
"A relentlessly entertaining romp through 1940's New York City, and through the annals of mystery fiction, as well, with many sly nods to authors of the past and some invigorating reinventions of classic tropes and gambits. . . Spotswood's style is swift and witty, and the mystery at the novel's heart is a clever knot."-CrimeReads
"Sparkles [with] wit and personality. . . Delightful. . . This mystery plot has all the twists and surprises a fan of the genre could ask for, but it is Will's distinctive, captivating voice and background [that] is Spotswood's real triumph. . . Gutsy Will, with her snappy, slangy narrative style, ultimately wins readers' hearts and carries the day. This classic noir-style myst...
Readers Top Reviews
Kindle
This is an interesting story with likable characters. I will buy the next one in the series when it becomes available.
Sadie
I loved this book! It was an interesting take on a female lead character from a male author. I never wanted to put it down and even my husband is really enjoying the read.
Patricia A. ESQ
Terrific novel and interesting lead characters. What I liked most were the private thoughts and lives of the main characters and how the author developed them over the course of the book. There was also a last-minute twist I never saw coming, which may indicate a continuation into the next novel in the series. Hope so!
Cathy G. Cole
I feel as though Fortune Favors the Dead should win some sort of special award. You see, it's the first audiobook I've listened to that didn't put me to sleep in under thirty seconds. Granted, I wised up and had my knitting needles busy while I was listening, but I think the book would have kept me awake regardless. Stephen Spotswood has written an engaging story set in 1940s New York City that has a hint of noir, a dash of humor, and two unusual and mesmerizing characters in Willowjean "Will" Parker and her boss, Lillian Pentecost. It's not often that you read a mystery that involves a female circus runaway and a middle-aged woman with multiple sclerosis and a glass eye. Will is the book's voice, and that voice drew me right into the story with its sass and spark. She kept me listening as the story unfolded, and I didn't even particularly mind that the identity of the killer wasn't that difficult to deduce. As a novice audiobook listener, it hasn't taken me long to learn that the narrator has a lot to do with a book's success. I found that the narrator of this book, Kirsten Potter, was perfect. Her Will was smart and sassy and her Lillian was calm and determined. She did a good job of creating different voices for all the characters even though I don't find that to be a necessity. (Just don't have a run-of-the-mill voice that drones.) In fact, I found Potter to be so good that Spotswood's series is one that I'll continue to follow in audiobook format. Now all I have to do is wait patiently for Pentecost and Parker to make another appearance.
Kindle
I caught the blurb for this book months ago and bought it early because it looked like the type of book I'd like. And boy did I, like it. I hopr there are many many more to the series. Write quickly!
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1
The first time I met Lillian Pentecost, I nearly caved her skull in with a piece of lead pipe.
I had scored a few shifts working guard duty at a building site on West Forty-second. A lot of the crew on Hart and Halloway's Traveling Circus and Sideshow picked up gigs like that whenever we rolled into a big city. Late-night and off-day gigs where we could clock in after a performance and get paid cash on the barrel.
There were more jobs like that available in those years. A lot of the men who'd usually have taken them were overseas hoping for a shot at Hitler. When you're desperate to fill a post, even a twenty-year-old cirky girl starts to look good.
Not that it required much of a résumé. It was a knucklehead job. Walk the fenced-in perimeter from eleven until dawn and keep an eye out for anyone slipping through the fence. If anyone did, I was supposed to ring a bell and shout and make a ruckus to drive them away. If they refused, I ran and found a cop.
At least that was what I was supposed to do. McCloskey-the site foreman, who was paying me-had other thoughts.
"You catch anyone slipping in, you give them a good clobber with this," he said, tugging at the ends of his greasy moustache. This was a two-foot length of lead pipe. "You do that, you get an extra dollar bonus. Gotta set an example."
Who I was setting an example for, I didn't know. I also didn't know what was around the site that would be worth stealing. Construction had just started, so it was basically a giant hole in the ground half the size of a city block. Some lumber, some pipe, a few tools, but nothing really worth pinching. This close to Times Square, I was more likely to get drunks looking for a place to sleep it off.
I expected to spend a handful of uneventful nights, collect a few bucks, and be done with my shift in time to run back to Brooklyn and help with the circus's matinee. I was also hoping to find some quiet time to devour the detective novel I'd picked up at the newsstand down the street. Maybe catch a few hours' sleep in some corner of the yard. On the road, solitary sleep-especially sleep without the rumble of trucks or the roar of the tigers prowling in their cage across the yard-was a rarity.
The first two nights, that was exactly how it went. It was actually kind of lonely. New York might be the city that never sleeps, but even those few blocks in the heart of Midtown took a catnap between two and five. Not much in the way of foot traffic, or at least little that could be heard through the seven-foot-high wooden fence surrounding the construction site. That half-block hole in the ground was eerily quiet.
So on the third night the creak of a board being pried away from the fence rang out like a bell.
Heart racing, I grabbed the piece of lead pipe and made my way around the edge of the pit. I was wearing dungarees and a denim shirt-soft fabrics that didn't make a sound. My boots had worn-thin soles, which didn't do any favors for my arches but meant I was able to slip like a shadow. I crept up on the figure crouched on its haunches at the edge of the pit.
Whoever it was picked up a handful of dirt and let it sift through their fingers. I thought about yelling and trying to drive them off, but they were bigger than me. In their other hand they were brandishing what looked like a stick or cudgel-something heftier than my length of pipe at any rate. If I yelled and got rushed, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay on my feet long enough to hit back.
I took one slow step after another. When I was only a short stride away I lifted the pipe above my head. I wondered what it would feel like when I brought it down. Could I finesse it so I just knocked them out? Detectives were always managing to do that in the dime novels. More likely, I'd crack their skull open like an egg. My stomach did the same kind of slow flip it performed when I watched the trapeze artists.
I still had the pipe raised above my head when the figure turned and looked at me.
"I'd prefer not to end my day with a concussion," she said with a voice even as a tightrope. The hefty guy I had been afraid would rush me was a woman. She was around the age my mother would have been with her hair done up tight in an intricate bun.
"You're not supposed to be here," I told her, managing to keep my vibrating heart out of my voice.
"That remains to be seen," she said. "Have you worked here long?"
"A few nights."
"Hmmm." There was disappointment in that murmur.
By all rights, I should have told her to scram. But for some reason, call it fate or boredom or an inborn pernicious streak, I kept talking. "I think McCloskey-that's the site manager-only just started hiring night guard...
The first time I met Lillian Pentecost, I nearly caved her skull in with a piece of lead pipe.
I had scored a few shifts working guard duty at a building site on West Forty-second. A lot of the crew on Hart and Halloway's Traveling Circus and Sideshow picked up gigs like that whenever we rolled into a big city. Late-night and off-day gigs where we could clock in after a performance and get paid cash on the barrel.
There were more jobs like that available in those years. A lot of the men who'd usually have taken them were overseas hoping for a shot at Hitler. When you're desperate to fill a post, even a twenty-year-old cirky girl starts to look good.
Not that it required much of a résumé. It was a knucklehead job. Walk the fenced-in perimeter from eleven until dawn and keep an eye out for anyone slipping through the fence. If anyone did, I was supposed to ring a bell and shout and make a ruckus to drive them away. If they refused, I ran and found a cop.
At least that was what I was supposed to do. McCloskey-the site foreman, who was paying me-had other thoughts.
"You catch anyone slipping in, you give them a good clobber with this," he said, tugging at the ends of his greasy moustache. This was a two-foot length of lead pipe. "You do that, you get an extra dollar bonus. Gotta set an example."
Who I was setting an example for, I didn't know. I also didn't know what was around the site that would be worth stealing. Construction had just started, so it was basically a giant hole in the ground half the size of a city block. Some lumber, some pipe, a few tools, but nothing really worth pinching. This close to Times Square, I was more likely to get drunks looking for a place to sleep it off.
I expected to spend a handful of uneventful nights, collect a few bucks, and be done with my shift in time to run back to Brooklyn and help with the circus's matinee. I was also hoping to find some quiet time to devour the detective novel I'd picked up at the newsstand down the street. Maybe catch a few hours' sleep in some corner of the yard. On the road, solitary sleep-especially sleep without the rumble of trucks or the roar of the tigers prowling in their cage across the yard-was a rarity.
The first two nights, that was exactly how it went. It was actually kind of lonely. New York might be the city that never sleeps, but even those few blocks in the heart of Midtown took a catnap between two and five. Not much in the way of foot traffic, or at least little that could be heard through the seven-foot-high wooden fence surrounding the construction site. That half-block hole in the ground was eerily quiet.
So on the third night the creak of a board being pried away from the fence rang out like a bell.
Heart racing, I grabbed the piece of lead pipe and made my way around the edge of the pit. I was wearing dungarees and a denim shirt-soft fabrics that didn't make a sound. My boots had worn-thin soles, which didn't do any favors for my arches but meant I was able to slip like a shadow. I crept up on the figure crouched on its haunches at the edge of the pit.
Whoever it was picked up a handful of dirt and let it sift through their fingers. I thought about yelling and trying to drive them off, but they were bigger than me. In their other hand they were brandishing what looked like a stick or cudgel-something heftier than my length of pipe at any rate. If I yelled and got rushed, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay on my feet long enough to hit back.
I took one slow step after another. When I was only a short stride away I lifted the pipe above my head. I wondered what it would feel like when I brought it down. Could I finesse it so I just knocked them out? Detectives were always managing to do that in the dime novels. More likely, I'd crack their skull open like an egg. My stomach did the same kind of slow flip it performed when I watched the trapeze artists.
I still had the pipe raised above my head when the figure turned and looked at me.
"I'd prefer not to end my day with a concussion," she said with a voice even as a tightrope. The hefty guy I had been afraid would rush me was a woman. She was around the age my mother would have been with her hair done up tight in an intricate bun.
"You're not supposed to be here," I told her, managing to keep my vibrating heart out of my voice.
"That remains to be seen," she said. "Have you worked here long?"
"A few nights."
"Hmmm." There was disappointment in that murmur.
By all rights, I should have told her to scram. But for some reason, call it fate or boredom or an inborn pernicious streak, I kept talking. "I think McCloskey-that's the site manager-only just started hiring night guard...
