Renting silence

Review by Booklist Review

With the support of her bosses, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks, amateur sleuth Jessie Beckett has no trouble pulling off an elaborate ruse to catch the real killer who's put an innocent woman on death row. Set in Jazz Age Hollywood, with cameo appearances by famous stars and stars in the making, along with the slightly shady (but delicious) David Carr from the previous two books, this series' third installment zips along with energy. While the mystery is fairly straightforward savvy buffs will spot the culprit early on the entertaining characters and details of a bygone Hollywood more than make up for it. Jessie's questionable past and spunky determination to make something of herself are endearingly reminiscent of Kerry Greenwood's Phryne Fisher (though a younger and poorer version). A little sparkle, a hint of sex, some wily Prohibition-era shenanigans, and one smart cookie in the lead make this a great read that's similar to Renee Patrick's Design for Dying (2016), the first of another Tinseltown mystery series set in Hollywood's golden age, with a likewise spunky sleuth.--Baker, Jen Copyright 2016 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In Miley's highly entertaining third mystery set during the 1920s (after 2014's Silent Murder), Hollywood "script girl" Jessie Beckett draws on her education in the school of hard knocks as well as her years in vaudeville to track down the killer of a young woman with a taste for blackmail. Jessie's bosses, movie stars Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Mary Pickford, encourage her investigation after Ruby Glynn, a friend of Miss Pickford's, is falsely convicted of the crime. Jessie's quest takes her on trains across a fair amount of the country. Since Prohibition is in force, transporting and stealing booze is big business-and highly dangerous. Meanwhile, Jessie's sometime lover, once known as the bootleg king of Portland, Ore., claims he's gone legit, but Jessie isn't sure. The reader gets a strong sense of what life was like if you were from an outsider group or broke Hollywood's moral code in public. A middle-of-the-night encounter with the Ku Klux Klan is particularly chilling. All the details of her journey not only advance the story but are fascinating in themselves. (Dec.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

In 1920s Hollywood Jessie Beckett works as a script girl for Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and his wife, Mary Pickford. In her third outing (after The Impersonator and Silent Murders), Mary asks Jessie to investigate the death of Lila Walker. The woman convicted of Lila's murder, Ruby Glynn, is a friend of Mary's favorite cameraman, Rob Handler, and neither of them believe Ruby is guilty. Jessie, a former member of a vaudeville troupe, has a knack for uncovering schemes and throws herself into the investigation. Wearing a disguise, she moves into Lila's old boardinghouse and then ends up back on the vaudeville trail, trying to determine who hated Lila enough to kill her. VERDICT With a well-developed and surprising plot twist, an appealing, resourceful amateur detective, and fascinating period details, this entertaining historical will delight fans of Old Hollywood and those who like the 1920s-set mysteries of Suzanne Arruda and George Baxt. © Copyright 2016. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

An amateur sleuth takes a nostalgic journey straight into danger to solve a Jazz Age murder. Any Hollywood hopeful would envy Jessie Beckett, an assistant script girl for Douglas Fairbanks. She also doubles for Mary Pickford, Americas Sweetheart and Jessies longtime idol. But Jessies job description changes when Mary introduces her to one of the cameramen for the PickfordFairbanks Studios. He was a juror for the murder trial of Ruby Glynn, accused of murdering her rival Lila Walker, and hes haunted because he gave in to pressure to find her guilty. The evidence against Ruby, now facing the gallows, was so compelling that there was no police investigation; now Mary wants Jessie to do what the cops didnt. With some success in outwitting gangsters, a previous gig as an impersonator, and the survivors instincts of someone whos been on her own since she was a child, Jessie (Silent Murders, 2014, etc.) is clearly the right one for the job. Pretending to be interested in renting Lilas newly available boardinghouse suite, she sees the place where Lila was stabbed and Ruby was found in a faint with a bloody knife in her hand. Although Ruby has lost hope, her suitor, a handsome Cuban actor who gets the roles Rudolph Valentino turns down, wants Jessie to clear Rubys name. Jessie finds evidence that Lila was blackmailing various Hollywood luminaries. The identity of one of her targets may be on an old program from the small-time vaudeville circuit Jessie traveled as a child. So she rejoins it as a member of a song-and-dance sister act in hopes of finding someone who remembers the people named on the program. The startling answerand an ageless tale of jealousy and revengeavails her little when, like a runaway train, her fortunes careen from one peril to another before reaching an only partially satisfying conclusion. Despite an overburdened plot that still leaves one mystery unresolved, readers will welcome this third showcase for a valiant heroine with a shady past. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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 With folded arms, the Klansmen huddled closer. I tried to go around. They only snickered and shifted to block me, first right, then left, toying with me, cat-and-mouse fashion. "You say she put her hands on a nigger?" said one muffled voice. "What, like this?" And he reached over and grabbed my bosom.
 Without hesitating a second, I aimed a hard kick at his shin. But my foot got caught up in the folds of fabric, and I lost my balance. Rough hands caught my shoulders and kept me from falling to the ground. "No, like this," someone said. I fought back, but all that drapery made it impossible to land a kick. My cries for help fell on deaf ears--the station had cleared quickly of passengers, and the only person not wearing a robe was the hapless porter.
 "Hey, now," the skinny man said nervously. "You leave that young lady alone."
 The Klansmen hooted. "Mind your own business, Jinks," said one. "Go on home now and keep shut if you know what's good for you," said another.
 Jinks knew what was good for him. He skulked away.
 Several cars ahead of us, a conductor called the all-aboard. I pushed hard against the man who was holding me and lashed out with both arms, but with so many, it was child's play to pin my arms behind my back and grope my breasts. Hands pulled my shirtwaist out of its belt and squeezed underneath. Other hands held my flailing legs and felt up under my skirt. I screamed to the conductor, but the train's whistle drowned out any sound I made. No one could see me. I had disappeared into what must have looked like a large pile of laundry.
 "I think this little slut is disturbing the peace, what do you think, George?"
 "Go ahead--call the sheriff!" I spat. "I'll have you arrested for assault."
 The engine squealed and the train lurched forward with a huff. Still time to jump onto the ladder if I could break free.
 There was much sniggering at my remark until someone called out, "Oh Sheriff!" in a simpering, high-pitched voice. One of the Klansmen standing in front of me pulled off his hood and blessed me with a malicious smile. "At your service, Bill. Looks like I'm gonna need to arrest someone for assault. Any of you men want to press charges against this shameless hoyden?"
 There was a lot of joshing. "Arrest me too, Sheriff. Put us in the same cell."
 The engineer blew the whistle again. The train chugged forward, picking up speed with every second.
 "Good work in apprehending this violent criminal," the sheriff said. "I'll take over from here, men. Think a couple nights in the hoosegow might tame the little whore? At least it'll serve as an example to nigger lovers everywhere."
 A round of laughter greeted this witticism. Whoever was holding my arms threw me at the sheriff's chest. His powerful hands grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me 'til my brains were scrambled, then dragged me toward the street, gripping my arm so tight it went numb. His other hand circled my neck, ready to choke off any call for help I might be tempted to make. The deputy loping along beside us had pulled off his hood too, so passersby would see nothing more alarming than two officers of the law escorting a dishevelled young woman to jail.
 Such precautions proved unnecessary; we passed no one except other white-robed figures on our way to the jail, just two short blocks away. It was nearly dark. Redfield's population had retreated behind curtains and closed doors. No one was watching. I knew very well how the script would go once we arrived at the jail. They would put me in a cell and take turns. Excerpted from Renting Silence by Mary Miley All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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