The Birthday of Eternity
by A. D. Price
May 13 – June 7, 2024 Virtual Book Tour
Hi, everyone!
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE BIRTHDAY OF ETERNITY (A Comfort & Company Mystery Book #2) by A.D. Price on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Good luck and enjoy!
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Book Description
L.A. private investigators Kit and Henry become entangled in the city’s robust post-WWII occult trade when they’re hired to track down Lillian, the estranged wife of a prominent physician, and her spellbinding “spirit” lover Tashin. Fresh from her training in judo and “dirty fighting,” Kit poses as an eager recruit at a Hollywood cult run by the ambitious Reverend, while Henry takes on the city’s séance circuit, which has reinvented itself in the wake of war. Assisting them are Kit’s psychiatrist lover Luca and her combat veteran brother Stanley, who offer their own brand of expertise in unraveling the tricks of the conmen.
Plunged into the strange and deadly world of mediums and gurus, Kit and Henry soon discover that surviving the spirit trade will take all of their cunning and a whole lot of luck.
The Birthday of Eternity
Genre: Historical Private Detective Mystery
Published by: Indie
Publication Date: December 6, 2023
Number of Pages: 358
ISBN: 9798986893044
Series: Comfort & Company Book 2
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
THE BIRTHDAY OF ETERNITY (A Comfort and Company Mystery Book #2) by A.D. Price is a suspenseful historical P.I. mystery set post WWII in Los Angeles, California and features two memorable private investigators. This is the second book in the series, and I feel I understood and enjoyed all the characters and their motivations more by reading book one, After the Blue, Blue Rain, and book two in order.
P.I. Kit Comfort and her partner P.I. Henry Richman have barely recovered from their last case and find themselves quickly drawn into their next. Hired to track down the missing wife of a prominent L.A. physician, they find themselves involved in the world of cults and spiritualists. With the help of Kit’s psychiatrist lover and her combat veteran brother, Kit and Henry soon discover the spirits may be more dangerous than they believed.
I am really enjoying this historical mystery series. While it has a bit of a noir feel to the private investigation plot, it is not as dark or gritty as some others in this period. It has both Kit and Henry alternating the narrative of the story with the occasional insertion of the missing person’s narrative. It is a unique way of discovering the facts as the investigation gets closer to the solution. (The first book in the series was narrated in a similar way.) The investigation is interesting with none of the current advantages of technology, just plenty of personal contacts, shoe leather, ingenuity, and undercover work with some action interspersed throughout.
While the plots of both mysteries are well paced and plotted, it is the characters that I love. Kit is an emancipated woman for her times and yet she still has a very loving heart towards her brother, partner and friends and she also loves a good hat. Henry has a complicated history and an even more complicated marriage. While he gives off a hard guy persona, I felt so much sympathy for him. All the related characters in this series are fully drawn and believable for the period.
I highly recommend this compelling historical P.I. mystery series.
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Excerpt
PROLOGUE
DAIVIKA
(Preface, “Survival: My Journey to Enlightenment,” CoEB Press, 1948)
Happy New Year! Today, I begin the story of my death. The story of my death and my rebirth. The story of my journey to enlightenment. It won’t begin at the beginning. It won’t unfold in chronological order, or in subject order. Instead, it will flow in psychic order. An order marked by change—the before and the after—and its place in my eternal existence, in the circle with no beginning and no end.
Some in my position might shy away from sharing their story. They might prefer to keep their past a secret. However, from my experience—the experience that brought me to this point today—secrets destroy. They destroy trust, of course, but they also destroy hope. We can’t profess to love nature’s sunshine while keeping a part of ourselves in the darkness. Our past, our histories, are as much a part of our being as our beliefs and our actions.
Of course, it’s impossible to recall everything, and not all revelations are suitable for all audiences, but as far as common decency and memory will allow me, I will be truthful and open with my history. It’s the least I can do for my new friends and colleagues. Now more than ever, I need your trust. So, I will give you my secrets—some of them anyway.
And circle or not, I must start my story somewhere, and when I think about the past, I find myself returning to one moment, one place, one hot summer afternoon. It was a moment whose significance grew over time, like a soft mew swelling to a roar. It’s there I’ll begin the story of my life, a not-so-long-ago moment, fresh from death’s door.
Chapter 1
DAIVIKA
(Excerpt from “Survival: My Journey to Enlightenment.” CoEB Press, 1948)
Death, as a concept, bubbles up often in my current existence, but in my previous life, I did my best to keep the topic at bay, to push down my fears and ignore any pain. Months after the war’s end, I was still rationing my sadness, still offering fake smiles and unearned laughs.
That began to change with the death of my grandmother. Days before, she had taken a bad fall and her recovery had been fitful. I dropped by the hospital once or twice, but on that last Sunday, I canceled my planned visit and attended one of my husband’s archery competitions instead. She passed during the night.
Gramma had always been the kind constant in my life—more giving than my mother—and her departure from this world was a blow to my defenses. Its full impact, however—my shame especially— didn’t hit me until later. Even then, as I first stood by her open grave under that scorching sun, dry martinis in ice-cold glasses were all I was thinking about.
In her will, Gramma instructed she be buried at Forest Lawn, in the Everlasting Love section, next to her beloved husband, my grandpa. He had succumbed to a stroke a few years earlier, and his demise rendered Gramma spiritually unbalanced. Or as she put it, without him by her side, her life had no joy. At the time, I didn’t associate Gramma’s spiritual imbalance with a literal imbalance, the type of vertigo that caused her to misjudge a step, take a spill and break her hip, but the connection seems obvious to me now.
I also see now the deep imprint that my grandparents’ long and loving marriage left on my psyche. My parents’ marriage was fragile and my own romances were flops. But Gramma and Grandpa’s bond truly was everlasting—in life and beyond. Who doesn’t yearn for that?
No doubt that if my native Californian Gramma had been in charge of the matter, her burial would have taken place on a rainy dawn in winter. As it turned out, however, the fates preferred a cloudless afternoon in July. The night before, a Santa Ana wind had blown in, delivering a day of gusts so hot and dry they all but set fire to the lungs. The service at the Wee Kirk o’ the Heather Church had been reasonably well-attended, but most of the mourners, including my husband, skipped the burial. While immaculate and stubbornly green, the lawn the cemetery was famous for had absorbed the wind’s heat, making standing graveside more hellish than heavenly.
The minister-for-hire went through his rituals as quickly as was socially acceptable. But as he was delivering his final words over Gramma’s coffin, the birds and insects of Forest Lawn went abruptly silent. I felt the silence more than I heard it, but I sensed instantly that something was off and something else was eminent. And just as that anticipation hit, the sky’s light dimmed and the air dulled. We had been plunged, midday, into dusk.
During the next few seconds, my ears started to ring, or rather, hum. My heart raced, and I gasped. Then I fainted. My knees gave out and I tumbled to the ground. I toppled just inches from the open grave, my left arm dangling over the side. I quickly recovered but when I opened my eyes, the world was tinged with red and the air that swirled around me was frigid. I could hear murmurs of concern and felt someone touching my back. Embarrassed, I struggled to my feet and assured everyone I was fine.
And for a time, I fooled myself into believing that I was fine. On the drive home from the cemetery, I heard radio bulletins describing the total solar eclipse that had just occurred in the Northern Hemisphere. Everything I had experienced during the funeral was unusual but explainable. A natural phenomenon.
Or was it? Was Gramma’s funeral occurring at the same time as a rare astronomical event a coincidence? Or had Fortuna influenced the scheduling somehow? What had I seen? What had I felt? Had I felt through that cold wind Gramma’s spirit heading for the Afterlife? Or was it the stirring of my own sorrow, blowing around me in warning? Or both?
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Author Bio
A native of Washington, D. C., A. D. Price is an Emmy-winning screenwriter and author. Her publications (as Amy Dunkleberger) include educational books and feature articles on historical and arts-related subjects. In 2022, she published After the Blue, Blue Rain, her first novel and the first book in her Comfort & Company mystery series. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two dogs.
Social Media Links
www.ADPricebooks.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @adpricebooks
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Facebook – @adpricebooks
YouTube – @ADPrice
Purchase Links
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads
Audiobook Links: Audible | Spotify | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | Chirp
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KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY
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