Boston PI Sunny Randall investigates the dark side of social media in this exciting new thriller in the bestselling series.
Sunny Randall’s newest client, Blake, seems to have it all: he is an Instagram influencer, with all the perks the lifestyle entails—a beautiful girlfriend, wealth, and adoring fans. But one of those fans has turned ugly, and Sunny is brought on board by Blake’s manager, Bethany, to protect him and to uncover who is out to kill him. In doing so, she investigates a glamorous world rife with lies and schemes…and ties to a dangerous criminal scene.
When Bethany goes missing and the threats against Blake escalate, Sunny realizes that in order to solve this case, she has to find out exactly who Blake and Bethany are, behind the Instagram filters. While digging into their pasts, she is also forced to confront her own, as old friends—and ex-husbands—reappear. With a combination of old-school crime-solving skills and modern internet savvy, Sunny will stop at nothing to catch a killer.
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Elise’s Thoughts
Robert B. Parker’s Bad Influence by Alison Gaylin brings to life his character Sunny Randall. Those who have read Gaylin in the past know she loves to have twisted endings that are very intense. This story is not any different as she takes readers on a roller coaster ride.
In this story Gaylin includes many of Sunny’s supporting characters and attempts to bring her into the modern world. Bethany Rose hires Sunny to protect one of the most popular influencer couples. She offers the services of her influencer couple, Blake James, and Alena Jade, to help Sunny’s BFF Spike gain new customers for his bar and restaurant. Bethany is willing to do it on gratis if Sunny finds out who is sending threatening messages to the couple.
Sunny must come to terms with social media as she tries to figure out who is the stalker. The problem is she must get up to speed because she did not use any online forums. Now she uses it as a tool to research her clients. She is trying to understand how people can base their entire careers on letting strangers into their personal lives.
She can be stubborn at times and is trying to figure out where she stands emotionally.
This mystery/thriller is riveting, and the readers also can learn about the world of influencers, which makes the story even more fascinating.
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Author Interview
Elise Cooper: Why write a Parker character?
Alison Gaylin: I have been a longtime fan of the Robert B. Parker books, although I did not read any of the Sunny books. I was offered to write twenty pages and thought this is a terrific opportunity. I had this idea regarding influencers. A month later I heard I got the job and will be writing a second book.
EC: Did you change anything regarding style?
AG: I tried to stay as loyal to Parker as I best I could. His style is different than my style with more dialogue, shorter chapters, and I have a little more internal dialogue. I did try to make it as “Parkeresque” as I could. All the supporting characters of his was like being given a toolbox to make some furniture. There is her good friend Spike, her father, her ex-husband Ritchie, his mob dad, and her dog Rosie. Parker books had more humor than I usually put but I wrote more intensity, especially at the end.
EC: Did you make any imprint on the Sunny character?
AG: It will always be a little different when a woman writes the character. It is a pleasure to be the first woman to write Sunny. I think the way women move through the world and relate to other women is different. In a lot of his books, she called in for help, but in this book during the climactic scene I had her do it on her own.
EC: How would you describe Sunny?
AG: Funny, tough, smart, strong, loyal, but vulnerable. She never let’s go of relationships. She had this dog Rosie who passed away and she got the same kind of dog and named it the same. She does not love change very much. She has been divorced from her ex-husband for years but still has feelings for him and they still maintain a relationship. Sunny is a solid person. In her profession as a private investigator, she is reckless, observant, and calm. She is in her late thirties. She is very good with a gun.
EC: Jesse Stone, another character of Parkers’ is mentioned on the page but does not appear?
AG: Sunny dated him for a while when Mike Lupica was writing this series. But in the last book, Revenge Tour, he broke them up. I decided they probably did not have a lot of contact now. He is still writing the Jesse Stone books and he has Jesse involved with someone else so I cannot write an alternative reality.
EC: What was the role of Rosie?
AG: She is a great companion for Sunny. I love dogs so Rosie will be in a lot of the stories. In this book Rosie is the go between for Sunny and her client, Blake, who she is guarding. His attitude towards Rosie showed a side to Blake readers would not otherwise see, caring and vulnerable. He was deprived of owning a dog during his childhood.
EC: Blake, Athena, and Bethany represent what?
AG: They are involved with the influencing world, and I wanted to show how things are not as they appear to be on social media and Instagram. As the book progresses there is more of a filter that will change people’s perception of them.
EC: Why influencers?
AG: I find them fascinating because I see them as a con. Everything is filtered and photoshopped. They have created a character of who they hope to be, not who they are. The goal is to be aspirational, not real. There is an element of artificiality. I thought how Sunny as a single woman in her late thirties she would have a social media imprint. But she does not, and I wondered why. Although she does find it fascinating. I think she wonders if followers have a mind of their own and maybe thinks of influencers as the modern-day commercials/advertisements. The influencers are getting paid with a lot of free products. Commercials have lost their power because people fast-forward them, so influencers have taken their place. They have a whole different level of fame.
EC: Idea for the mystery?
AG: I saw a Netflix documentary on con artists. This inspired me for the book, the different layers to the characters. The essence of the book is that these people were someone who they did not appear to be.
EC: Where are you going with the Sunny/Ritchie relationship?
AG: I put it to the test by having him move to New Jersey, six hours away. It has been on again/off again. Will absence make the heart grow fonder or will she decide to be on her own and independent? She relied a lot on his family. I put more change on her.
EC: Next books?
AG: The next Sunny book should come out this time next year. There is no title. It might involve the Energy Drink king who goes missing and Sunny is hired by his father.
For my next book, the tentative title is We Are Watching, out next summer. A normal family is targeted by a cult like group of conspiracy theorists.
THANK YOU!!
***
BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Today I am sharing on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour. My Feature Post and Book Review is for DERAILED (PI Kelly Pruett Book #1) by Mary Keliikoa.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
A dying wish. A secret world.
Can this grieving investigator stay on the right track?
PI Kelly Pruett is determined to make it on her own. And juggling clients at her late father’s detective agency, a controlling ex, and caring for a deaf daughter was never going to be easy. She takes it as a good sign when a letter left by her dad ties into an unsolved case of a young woman struck by a train.
Hunting down the one person who can prove the mysterious death was not just a drunken accident, Kelly discovers this witness is in no condition to talk. And the closer she gets to the truth the longer her list of sleazy suspects with murderous motives grows. Each clue exposes another layer of the victim’s steamy double life.
Can Kelly pinpoint the murderer, or is she on the fast track to disaster?
Genre: Mystery Published by: Camel Press Publication Date: May 12th 2020 Number of Pages: 232 ISBN: 1603817069 (ISBN13: 9781603817066) Series: PI Kelly Pruett #1 Purchase Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop | Goodreads
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
DERAILED (P.I. Kelly Pruett Book #1) by Mary Keliikoa is the start of a new female P.I. series by a debut author. This is an intriguing mystery full of characters with secrets and plot twists which take you as well as this inexperienced P.I. down many paths before ultimately discovering the truth.
P.I. Kelly Pruett is trying to make it on her own after her divorce and the death of her father who left her his detective agency. Kelly has always been fascinated with her father’s P.I. work, but has yet to work a major investigation. Kelly is trying to move forward after the death of her father, support herself and her deaf daughter and deal with an ex and mother-in-law who are still much too involved in her life.
A client shows up looking for Kelly’s father, but retains Kelly to investigate the supposed drunken accidental death of her daughter. This is Kelly’s chance to prove to everyone she is capable of taking over her father’s firm. As Kelly investigates the life of the dead woman, nothing is as it first seemed. She had a secret life and the murder of her main suspect leads her further into a web of sleazy characters that all have their own secrets.
Kelly is learning as she goes. She is finding she has more suspects than she anticipated and their many secrets lead to a motive that the killer does not want revealed and is willing to kill again to protect.
This is a cozy P.I. mystery that is intricately plotted with deceitful characters and red herrings that kept me turning the pages as I follow this new P.I. Kelly’s personal life felt realistic and pulled me in with her determination to make her dream work, protect her relationship with her child and hopefully more of her budding relationship with the handsome police officer. I am impressed with this mystery by this debut author and I hope she will continue with many more books in this series.
I recommend this first book in this cozy P.I. mystery series.
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Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Portland, Oregon has as many parts as the human anatomy. Like the body, some are more attractive than others. My father’s P.I. business that I’d inherited was in what many considered the armpit, the northeast, where pickpockets and drug dealers dotted the narrow streets and spray paint tags of bubble-lettered gang signatures striped the concrete. In other words, home. I’m Kelly Pruett and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
I’d just finished invoicing a client for a skip trace and flicked off the light in the front office my dad and I used to share when a series of taps came from the locked front door. It was three o’clock on a gloomy Friday afternoon. A panhandler looking for a handout or a bathroom was my best guess. Sitting at the desk, I couldn’t tell.
Floyd, my basset hound and the only real man in my life, lifted his droopy eyes to meet mine before flopping his head back down on his bed. No help there.
Another rap, louder this time.
Someone wanted my attention. I retrieved the canister of pepper spray from my purse and opened the door to a woman, her umbrella sheltering her from the late October drizzle. Her angle made it hard to see her face, only the soft curls in her hair and the briefcase hanging from her hand. I slipped the pepper spray into the pocket of my Nike warmup jacket.
“Is Roger Pruett in?” she asked, water droplets splatting the ground.
She hadn’t heard the news and I hadn’t brought myself to update R&K Investigation’s website. I swallowed the lump before it could form and clutch my throat. “No, sorry,” I said. “My dad died earlier this year. I’m his daughter, Kelly.”
“I’m so sorry.” She peered from under the umbrella, her expression pinched. She searched my face for a different answer.
I’d give anything to have one. “What do you need?”
“To hire a P.I. to investigate my daughter’s death. Can you help me?” Her voice cracked.
My stomach fluttered. Process serving, court document searches, and the occasional tedious stakeout had made up the bulk of my fifteen hundred hours of P.I. experience requirement. Not that I wasn’t capable of more. Dad had enjoyed handling cases himself with the plan to train me later. In the year since his death, no one had come knocking, and going through the motions of what I knew how to do well had been hard enough. Now this lady was here for my father’s help. I couldn’t turn her away. I raked my fingers through the top of my shoulder length hair and opened the door. “Come in.”
“Bless you.” She slid her umbrella closed and brushed past me.
After securing the lock, I led her through the small reception area and into my office. A bathroom and another office that substituted for a storage closet were down the long hallway heading to the rear exit. Floyd decided to take interest and lumbered over. With his butt in the air, he stretched at her feet before nearly snuffling my soon-to-be client’s shoe up his nose. She nodded at him before vicious Floyd found his way back to his corner, tail swaying behind him. Guess he approved.
The woman looked in her mid-sixties. She had coiffed hair the color of burnt almonds, high cheekbones, and a prominent nose. She reminded me of my middle school librarian who could get you to shut up with one glance. “Would you like coffee, Ms…?”
“No thank you. It’s Hanson.” She settled in the red vinyl chair across from my dad’s beaten and scarred desk. “Georgette Hanson.”
My skin tingled when she said her name.
“My condolences on your father,” she said.
“Thank you.” Her words were simple, and expected, but her eyes held pain. Having lost her daughter, she clearly could relate.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
I swallowed again. With as many people as I’d had to tell, it should be getting easier. It wasn’t. “Stroke. Were you a former client of my father’s?”
She waved her hand. “Something like that.” She lifted the briefcase to her lap and popped the latch. Her eyes softened. “He was a fine man. You look just like him.”
My confident, broad-shouldered, Welshman father had been quite fit and handsome in his youth. Most of my adult life he’d carried an extra fifty pounds, but that never undermined his strong chin, wise blue eyes, and thick chestnut hair. I’d been blessed with my Dad’s eyes and hair and had my mom’s round chin. But since I’d ballooned a couple of sizes while pregnant with Mitz, I knew which version she thought I resembled. “What were you hoping he could do for you with regards to your daughter?”
“Find out why she’s dead.” Georgette shoved a paper dated a few weeks ago onto the desk and snapped the case lid closed.
A picture of a young woman with a warm smile, a button nose, and long wavy brunette hair sat below the fold on the front page under the headline: WOMAN STRUCK BY MAX TRAIN DIES.
I winced at the thought of her violent end. “I’m sorry. Such a pretty girl.”
“She was perfect.” Georgette pulled off her gloves, her eyes brimming. “The train destroyed that. Do you know what a train does to a hundred-pound woman?” Her voice trembled.
To avoid envisioning the impact, I replaced it with the smiling face of Mitz, my eight-year-old daughter. Which made it worse. If anything ever happened to her… How Georgette wasn’t a puddle on the Formica eluded me. I took a minute to read the story. According to the article, Brooke Hanson fell from the sidewalk into the path of an oncoming MAX train downtown at Ninth and Morrison Street. The police reported alcohol was a contributing factor. “They detained the sole witness who found her, Jay Nightingale. Why?” I set the paper down.
Georgette brushed her hair away from her forehead flashing nails chewed to the quick. “At first, the police thought he had something to do with her fall. He told them he’d seen my Brooke stumble down the sidewalk and teeter on the edge of the curb. Supposedly, he called out the train was coming and she didn’t hear him. He made no effort to get her away from those tracks. When the autopsy showed she’d been drinking, they wrote her death off as an accident, released Mr. Nightingale, and closed the case.”
Their decision couldn’t have been that cut and dry. “How much had she been drinking?”
“You sound like the police.” Georgette lifted her chin and met my gaze. There are many stages to grief. One of them anger, another denial. Georgette straddled both, something I knew plenty about. “Not sure…exactly. You’ll have to check the report.”
I scanned her face for the truth. “You don’t know or you’re afraid to tell me?”
She massaged the palm of her hand with her thumb. “The bartender at the Limbo said she’d had a few before he’d cut her off and asked her to leave. None of that matters because Nightingale’s lying. He had something to do with her fall. He may have even pushed her. At the very least, he knows more than he’s telling.”
My eyebrows raised. The police weren’t perfect, but they had solid procedures in death investigations. They would have explored that angle. “What are you basing that on?”
“My gut.”
A mother’s intuition while undeniable, alone didn’t prove foul play. “Did the MAX operator see Mr. Nightingale next to her at any point?”
“He didn’t even see her because the area wasn’t well lit.”
“Do you have his name?”
“Chris Foley.”
I jotted the information down. “What do the train’s cameras show?”
“There weren’t any. And no passenger statements because the train was done for the night. But Brooke shouldn’t have even been in the vicinity of that train.”
“Where is the Limbo located?”
“Ten blocks from where she was hit.”
A half mile, give or take. “Could she have been heading to catch the MAX to go home?”
“Brooke detested mass transit. The people who ride during the day scared her. She wouldn’t go there at night. Besides, she lived south of town. The train wouldn’t have taken her there.” She sighed. “I’m telling you, she wouldn’t be that far from the bar unless someone…” She closed her eyes.
Georgette talked in circles attempting to make sense of it all, but I had first-hand knowledge of drunk people doing things out of character. Given what she’d described, I could understand why the police had closed the matter. Even so, her devastation gripped my heart. And something had brought her out on this rainy Friday. “What are you holding back, Ms. Hanson? Why do you feel so strongly Mr. Nightingale was involved that you’d come to my dad for help?”
She stared at her hands as if they held the answers. “Brooke had changed in the last year. Become more distant. Not visiting. Missing our weekly calls.” The corner of her mouth turned upward in a sad smile. “We used to go for pie once a month. She loved pie. Apple pie. Cherry pie.” Her smile melted. “One day she was too busy and couldn’t get away. When she did, she didn’t look well. Stressed.”
“Did she say what was bothering her?”
“No. She shut me out, which she’d never done before. Now to have been killed by a train downtown when that Nightingale fellow was close enough to stop it from happening? He’s involved. I can feel it.” She straightened. “Until I know what happened that night, I won’t rest.” Georgette reached into her purse and produced an envelope grasped in her right hand. “Here’s three thousand for you to find the truth. Please say you’ll help me.”
Despite steady work from a few law firms around town, and an adequate divorce settlement, being a single mom often meant more month than money. Georgette was offering twice what I made in a good month of process serving and that would go a long way in taking care of my little girl. Not needing to ever rely on my ex would have been incentive alone, but there was more to it than that.
I’d recognized Georgette’s name the moment she’d said it. At the reading of my dad’s will, his lawyer had handed me a handwritten letter. It was a request from my dad that if a Georgette Hanson ever came to his door asking for help, I should assist and not ask questions why. It had meant nothing at the time. I’d figured it was due to his unending dedication to his clients.
Because Georgette had a connection to my dad in some capacity, that sealed my decision to at least try and help her. While I’d been directed not to ask questions, even he would have needed the obvious one answered before he took her money.
“You said she’d changed. Is there any chance she might have…I mean, was she depressed? Could she have stepped…”
Georgette cut me off. “Stop.” Her eyes grew wide with denial and the damn broke. Tears poured over her cheeks; her shoulders shook, buckling from the weight of her anguish. The anger and determination she’d used as a mask crumbled, and each passing second exposed another layer of her gut-wrenching grief.
I shifted at witnessing her raw emotion, bracing myself against my own around my father, and my thoughts on Mitz. Tears stung my eyes, unsure how to comfort my client when I struggled to do that for myself.
She muffled a wail with the back of her hand and finally drew in deep breaths until the sobs subsided.
I grabbed a box of Kleenex behind me. She already had a handful of tissue ready from her purse. I’d back off the notion of suicide—for the moment. The woman didn’t need any more distress than she’d already endured.
She sniffed hard a couple of times and sopped up her face with the tissue. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I swiped under my eyes with my fingers, gaining control over my thoughts. “I’m not sure I’ll uncover anything new, but I will look for you.”
“Thank you.” She composed herself and stuffed the tissue back in her purse for the next inevitable breakdown.
I handed Georgette one of my dad’s old contracts, explaining my hourly rate, and a couple of authorization forms that might come in handy if requesting any case files was necessary.
She signed her name without bothering to read the fine print. She stood, the vinyl chair screeching against the hardwood floor startling Floyd. Her expression softened. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Brooke was a couple of years older, but pretty, like you and with the same flowing brown hair and kind eyes.” She sniffed. “I came to Roger because he could get to the heart of things. If you’re like him, you’ll find out what happened to my baby.”
I’d never be as good as my dad, but I did possess his mule-like stubbornness to get to the bottom of things. My ex could attest to that. “I’ll do what I can.”
She nodded. “Brooke was a good girl. She loved animals, ran every morning, and worked for the law firm Anderson, Hiefield & Price. She was the head accountant there.” Her face beamed with pride before her chin trembled again, but she held it together.
“It might help if I get a better sense of who she was.” I slid the legal pad to her. “If I could get her address, I’d like to start there.”
Georgette jotted the information down and pushed it back to me. She dug into her purse and produced the key. “I haven’t brought myself to go there yet.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “Are there family or friends I should start with?”
“Besides my husband, Chester, there’s just her sister, Hannah, who lives in Seattle. They weren’t close.” Georgette cleared her throat. “She never spoke to me about friends or boyfriends. Honestly, with her work schedule, she didn’t have time for any.”
With my own social life lacking, I related. “Do you have her cell? I’d like to check who she had on speed dial.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t among her belongings.”
What thirty-something didn’t have their phone glued to them? Unless the impact of the train threw it. Another image I pushed away. I rounded my desk and walked her out of my office.
“Please keep in touch on how the investigation is going,” she said.
I assured her I would. She squeezed my arm to thank me as she left. With a twist of the deadbolt, I rested my shoulder against the door and closed my eyes. Mitz would get hugged a little closer tonight.
At my desk, Floyd trotted over and sat at my feet. He rested his chin on my lap while I added a few more notes. His sixth sense of when I needed him never faltered. I tucked the notes, along with a couple of divorce petitions into my bag to serve in between outings with Mitz.
It was early enough to get to Brooke’s place, about twenty minutes away, and to the grocery store so Mitz and I weren’t eating PB&Js for dinner. The faster I got started and found answers, the sooner Georgette could begin healing. If I was lucky, Brooke’s phone would be sitting on her nightstand waiting to be found.
Before getting up, I pulled the letter from my dad out of the top drawer and unfolded the paper. I traced the ruts in the desk we shared with my finger as I read his words. Georgette’s name was there in black and white. I had wanted to ask her more about how she knew my dad, but he’d been explicit in his request. He was a good man, albeit a tough man that I didn’t question. Nor had I ever felt the need to. It hadn’t been easy for him after my mom died, and we became the Two Musketeers. We may have run out of time for him to teach me everything he knew about being a P.I., but I’d learn as I went. I had no other choice. Helping Georgette was the last thing I could do for him. And I would.
“Ready to boogie, Floyd?” I flicked off the lights and Floyd padded behind me down the narrow hall to the backdoor.
We jogged to my yellow 1980 Triumph Spitfire, a gift from my dad when I graduated. “You know the routine, buddy.” Floyd stretched himself halfway into the car, and with a grunt, I lifted in his other half. He tripped over the manual gearshift and settled into the passenger seat as I slunk behind the wheel. The engine started right up, for a change.
Brooke was a couple of years older than me—far too young to die. Was Nightingale involved in her death? Did he know more than he was telling? Or was he just a helpless bystander who could only watch Brooke fall because she was drunk off her ass? I had a feeling I’d be returning the bulk of Georgette’s money after putting in some legwork. With a case the Portland police had already closed and an eyewitness who’d already been cleared, what other possibility was there?
***
Author Bio
Mary Keliikoa spent the first 18 years of her adult life working around lawyers. Combining her love of all things legal and books, she creates a twisting mystery where justice prevails. She has had a short story published in Woman’s World and is the author of the PI Kelly Pruett Mystery Series.
At home in Washington, she enjoys spending time with her family and her writing companions/fur-kids. When not at home, you can find Mary on a beach on the Big Island where she and her husband recharge. But even under the palm trees and blazing sun she’s plotting her next murder—novel that is.
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Mary Keliikoa. There will be 2 winners of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card each. The giveaway begins on September 1, 2020 and runs through October 2, 2020. Void where prohibited.
