I had not intended to involve myself in a murder investigation. But I imagine few do, unless they are killers. Murders, like unsuitable engagements and unfortunate hats, are the sort of thing one generally hopes will happen to other people.
I’m afraid this particular murder has become inconveniently personal, since my brother Simon appears to be the most likely suspect. He has, it seems, made some rather unfortunate choices.
Simon and my husband were quarreling when Miss Brior arrived this morning, so we didn’t exactly put our best foot forward as a family. Simon was being cool and careless in that way of his. I do love him dearly, but I should also like to put my hands on his shoulders and shake him until some sense appears.
Arthur, meanwhile, was being Arthur, and lecturing about appropriate behaviour in his archest tone. His whole life is arranged around the belief that if one uses the proper fork, the monsters will stay away.
Naturally, Miss Brior heard more than she ought. Not that that seemed to dissuade her. She does have a lovely, unspoilt sense of justice. There is something rather solitary about her, too, which makes one want to wrap her in cotton wool. I like her very much.
At any rate, it seemed wisest to remove Miss Brior before she got bitten. So I found the motorcar key and whisked her from the house. Going sleuthing at the Charleses seemed promising. For several minutes I even allowed myself the luxury of hope. If Edward Charles had been guilty, Simon would be out of the soup.
But, alas, the old gentleman proved less murderer than weathercock. And Mrs Charles was pink and adorable, with half the British Empire pinned under glass. She also evidently adores her husband. I envy her that.
Anyway, she served his alibi up with the tea, so that’s put paid to that.
I do fear we rather stepped into it with Inspector Garrett when he turned up. Although I must admit it was amusing to watch the old don’s sublimely Victorian reaction to a policeman at the front door, instead of Garrett pulling at his forelock at the servants’ entrance.
Garrett knew immediately he’d put a foot wrong. He saw through us at once, of course. I must admit I do find him rather fascinating. It felt like we were the only two people in the room not pretending.
I offered him tea, of course. I’m not a savage.
I suppose it helped the investigation. But it didn’t help Simon, and he seems bound and determined not to help himself. I’m starting to be truly worried. As maddening as he is, I couldn’t muddle through without him.
Miss Brior will no doubt keep asking questions. And I, apparently, will help her.
Perhaps I should have a private word with Inspector Garrett. He’s clearly no fool. I cannot yet say that I entirely trust him to help Simon — but I find myself wanting to believe he will.
THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA’S
Series: An Inspector Garrett Mystery, Book 1
Genre: Historical Mystery 1920s
Release: May 2026
Format: Print, Digital
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London, 1923. Sharp-eyed American expat librarian Eden Brior thinks things are bad when she is accidentally locked overnight in the St. Cecelia’s Library vault with the charming and unreliable Simon Cross. Then she emerges to find the body of his estranged wife, a celebrated French actress, draped over a chair upstairs.
Detective Inspector William Garrett is methodical, quietly perceptive, and already fairly certain he has his man. He tells Eden firmly to go home and leave the detecting to the professionals. But how can she?
Determined to uncover the truth before suspicion hardens into certainty, Eden follows a case that leads from the bright footlights of the London stage through the sleek drawing rooms of Jazz Age society, and into secrets someone will kill to keep buried.
Steeped in the style of Golden Age detective fiction, The Harlot of St. Cecelia’s captures a London still glittering on the surface and shadowed underneath — where every drawing room hides a secret and every secret has a price.
Meet the author
Darcy Graves (darcygravesauthor.com) grew up in Boston and holds an MA in English history and a BS in copywriting. She writes Golden Age–inspired historical mysteries set in the glittering, secretive world of 1920s England. Her debut mystery, The Harlot of St. Cecelia’s, begins the Inspector Garrett series, and she is currently working on the next book in the series, The Treasure of Mayfair. Darcy lives in the Berkshires with her daughter, two ragdoll cats, and a very naughty terrier named Merial.