Sometimes it’s the setting that grabs you. Often it’s the plot. But here it is two fabulous characters who come together and through sharp dialogue create a story that both cozy and traditional-mystery readers will love. Former Senator Dorothy Gibson—pant-suit loving, wise-cracking, and wine-imbibing—has just weeks ago lost a run for the presidency to that man, and she’s retired to her northern White House on the Maine coast to lick her wounds and begin work on her memoirs. Her ghostwriter, new on the job, is summoned to Maine; Dorothy’s not one to sit idle. It’s quite a fun hothouse with Dorothy’s gay son hanging around, a ten-out-of-ten bodyguard lurking in the corridor, a Huma Abedin clone who tries to keep everyone on track—and the ghostwriter describing it all in delicious detail. All’s well until there’s a death at a neighboring estate and Dorothy and the ghostwriter, refusing to believe it’s an accident, quickly launch their own investigation. The denouement is quite wordy, but full of the requisite number of surprises. The idea of a ghostwriter as the narrator, who pairs up with different celebrities to solve crimes, is a darn good one.
