CHAPTER ONE

Brooklyn, New York City, 1925

A woman has to do what she must to survive.

That was what my father always told me growing up. He would grab me by the shoulders and say, “This is a man’s world, Penny, one that isn’t a friend to women. You must be strong and brave. And let no man tell you who to be.”

He was an enlightened man, my father. Truly ahead of his time. That was why it hurt so badly as they lowered his coffin into the ground, right next to my mother and brother.

My mother died when I was four years old. I think my father did, too—it only took a few decades for his body to catch up. My little brother, Warren, died of cancer at eighteen.

They’re together now, wherever they may be, but I’m all alone. And the inheritor of a large business at the age of twenty-two. My father, Eugene Fox—you may have heard of him—owned The Primrose, a popular cabaret in downtown New York. And as his last heir, the deed goes to me.

I don’t mind, though. I’ve been running my private investigation agency—Sly Fox Investigations—out of its office for the past six months while managing the club. My father was very sick with lung cancer in the end, so everything had fallen to me. It was only a matter of time until it became official.

And don’t tell anyone, but due to Prohibition, my father also ran a speakeasy in the basement. It’s a secret he took to the grave, and to honor him, I vowed to keep the club—and the speakeasy—up and running. It was the least I could do for him.

A wind blew past the cemetery, making me shiver. My best friend since childhood, Genevieve Merrick, placed a hand on my shoulder. The dying glow of dusk bounced off the large diamond on her engagement ring and made it light up like a prism.

I glanced at her, giving her a half-smile. The woman was a lawyer—born to the famous and wealthy lawyer Ernest Merrick, owner of the largest law firm in New York. He ran it with his wife, a paralegal named Patsy, Genevieve’s mother. She had helped me with Papa’s estate. We were two of the same—women trying to make our way in a man’s world.

And, of course, besides my father, Genevieve was the only one who knew my secret. A secret that could get me thrown in jail and labeled a sinner. Fortunately, neither of them judged me—and I loved them for it. Genevieve was getting married soon to a scientist, the son of my father’s friend, the local coroner. It was much-needed good news after the year I’d had.

“Sorry for your loss, Penny,” Genevieve whispered, her blond hair in ringlets around her shoulders. She wore a peach-colored dress and heels for the funeral. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, all right? Other than the legal procedures, of course.”

I nodded. “I will. Thanks, Gen.”

The cemetery workers finished lowering my father’s casket. Pastor Alvin Leach looked up at me. He had dark, shaggy hair, wore a suit with a cross around his neck, and always had something judgemental to say about the cabaret. Who knew music and dancers could be so sinfully scandalous?

“Yes, I’m also sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man, Penny.” Pastor Leach hesitated. “Despite his…career path. He donated a lot to the Jesus Heals Church and we’re still grateful. Now, is there anything you’d like to say?”

I leaned forward, adjusting my cloche hat. Then I bent down, throwing some dirt on my father’s coffin. “Goodbye, Papa. I’ll miss you and all our chats over tea.”

“Very nice, Miss Fox,” Pastor Leach said. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you. Even if you haven’t gotten married or given him a grandchild yet.”

I nearly rolled my eyes. Were women only housewives and mothers? Were we allowed to have no goals or ambitions of our own? The world seemed to think so. I liked my life just fine, emboldened by my father who always encouraged me to choose my own path and make no apologies. I shuddered to think what life would’ve been like with a father like Pastor Leach.

When I glanced at Genevieve, she was rolling her eyes, too. I snickered and glanced back at the grave.

“May he rest in the arms of our Lord and Savior,” Pastor Leach finished as the cemetery workers cleaned around Papa’s burial site. “If you don’t need me anymore, Penny, I’m needed back at the church for midnight Mass later. But please, stay as long as you’d like. And remember—your father will always be with you in spirit.”

That was nice of Pastor Leach to say, but I wasn’t big into religion. It was a comforting thought, nothing more. My father was gone. That was all I knew now.

As the pastor walked away, the cemetery workers following, Genevieve turned to me. “I have some last-minute files to look over, so Father wants me back at the office—and to tell you he’s very sorry. My mother is, too. They adored your father.”

“That’s very thoughtful of them. I appreciate you all so much.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Genevieve said with a smile. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

I rose to my feet, my strap heels digging into the dirt. “I’ll be fine—don’t worry. I’ll see you later tonight at The Primrose. I have a job to do before then.”

Genevieve raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Another client?”

“Yes, and a doozy,” I muttered, reaching for the camera in my pocket. The Vest Pocket Autographic Kodak glimmered in the last bits of sunlight. “This woman’s husband is cheating on her with just about every gal in this city. Mainly his secretaries. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she deserves to know the truth. That’s what she’s paying me for.”

Genevieve nodded. “Indeed. Well, when you expose the husband, send the wife my way. Father excels at divorce cases. She’ll have her husband’s entire fortune by the end of the week.”

I snorted. “Sounds good. I catch cheaters and you bankrupt them.”

“Don’t we make the perfect team? Happy investigating,” Genevieve said with a wink, turning her back to me. Her blue peacoat flapped in the wind. “And be careful, Penny. This world is a dangerous place—especially for women like us.”

I already knew that lesson, of course. It was a lesson all women must learn eventually.

I watched Genevieve walk across the cemetery to reach her blue Duesenberg automobile, waving at me as she sped off. Then I turned on my heel, walking through the gravel sidewalk of the cemetery to the gate. The incriminating photographs I had in my pocket felt like they weighed a million pounds.

I rushed down the block to my car—a Chrysler Six in scarlet, my favorite color. The shade matched my half-moon manicure. I placed my camera and photos on the passenger seat, then sped off. I drove to the downtown apartment of the woman who suspected her husband was having an affair.

And sadly, she had been right. I parked on the street in front and rang the doorbell. I stepped into the hoist—a fancy word for an elevator, powered by the bellboys—and I rode it to the second floor to apartment 217.

I cleared my throat, then knocked loudly. Margot Timmons—my client, an auburn-haired woman in her late thirties—opened the door. Her blue eyes looked hopeful, searching my green ones for any sign that her husband wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t want to destroy her optimism but I had no choice.

“Ah, Miss Fox,” she began with a smile, her apron on. I could smell cookies baking in the kitchen behind her. “I assume you’re here about my husband?”

I nodded. “I am, Mrs. Timmons.”

“Do come in. You can have some of my delicious cookies,” she replied, ushering me in. I took a seat on the leather couch. “I sincerely hope you have good news for me.”

I shifted on the couch, uncertain of how to proceed. How could I tell her the love of her life was having affairs? I really despised businessmen like her husband, Earl, who thought they could do whatever they wanted. He owned a department store and had made himself quite familiar with his female employees. His wife had to have suspected that, of course.

Margot walked over, carrying the cookie tray. She leaned it toward me. “They’re still hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Timmons,” I replied, taking a chocolate chip cookie. I moaned when I bit off a piece. “Wow, very delicious. You’re quite the baker.”

She grinned, placing the tray on the windowsill to cool. She removed her oven mitts and sat across from me. “Thank you, Miss Fox. I love to bake and do it for my husband all the time. I’m unable to have children, you see, so I must do something to keep myself occupied. All I ever wanted was to be a mother.”

“There’s still time. You could always adopt.”

She nodded, sadly looking down. “I know. Part of the reason why I asked you to follow my husband is I want to adopt an orphan. I already met one I adore at the orphanage. But…I need to make sure my husband’s heart is true and pure. I’ve found some interesting things. Lipstick on his collar and a garter belt in his office, for instance. Things that aren’t mine.”

I winced. “Well, Mrs. Timmons, I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just come right out. Your husband is having an affair. More than one.”

I pulled the black-and-white photographs out of my pocket, placing them on the coffee table. I had followed her husband to work and snapped photos of him locked in a passionate embrace with his secretary and another midsmooch with his maid. Margot leaned forward in silence and looked over the pictures. I thought she would cry or scream, but she didn’t. She seemed rather calm—as if she had already suspected the truth.

“I didn’t want to believe it was true,” Margot whispered. “I thought there may have been a reasonable explanation for everything. I’m a fool, aren’t I?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not. You’re a good wife, Margot, and a good woman. I’m sorry your husband doesn’t respect that.”

She rose to her feet, smoothing out her apron. “Thank you, that’s kind. Now I must think of how to handle this.”

I pulled out Genevieve’s law firm card from my pocket, handing it to Margot. “I know of a divorce lawyer. I know divorce can be a dirty word in our society, but it’s far better than staying with a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

She took the card, looking it over. “Very true. Really, I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Miss Fox. Allow me to get your payment.”

She scurried into the bedroom, and I stood up with a giddy smile. As much as I loved helping women flee their abusive partners and expose their cheating husbands—that was mainly what Sly Fox Investigations did—I also loved the payment.

She returned a minute later, a briefcase in hand. “I know where my husband keeps his emergency savings. For a job well done, I want you to have it all.”

When she opened the case, I gawked. There must’ve been a thousand dollars in bills—a lot for her husband to have saved up.

I shook my head. “No, really—I can’t take that much. Besides, you should leave some for your divorce proceedings. Can’t take everything from your husband if you give it all to me, right?”

Margot placed the briefcase in my hand. “He has more hidden—I’m sure of it. Please, just take it. It’s the least I can do.”

I sighed and took the briefcase. “Thank you, Mrs. Timmons. I truly wish you the best.”

Margot led me toward the door. “Thanks. And at least you’ve provided me with an answer to my question. I’ll speak to your friend at the law office soon—”

As we reached the door, it unlocked with a jingle of keys. Both Margot and I fell silent as a tall, dark-haired man in a suit entered the apartment. He was grinning—another smear of lipstick on his collar—until he noticed us. His face fell as he placed his briefcase on the floor.

“Honey, I’m home,” he said with a frown. “Sorry I’m late, but some extra business came up. I hope you made dinner because I’m starving. Hey, who’s this? A friend?”

“She’s my private investigator, Penny Fox,” Margot said, crossing her arms. “And she’s told me all about your dirty secrets, Earl. Were you working late or sleeping with your employees again? I’ve got it all photographed!”

Margot reached for the black-and-white photos, all of them with Earl kissing different women, and threw them at her husband. He gasped as they fell to the floor. He picked one up, shaking his head as he stared at the photo. There was no way he could deny the affairs now.

“Really, I can explain,” Earl stammered. “It isn’t what you think!”

“Save it,” Margot hissed. “I’ll be marching to a divorce lawyer in the morning. And to think I wanted to adopt a child with an unfaithful worm like you! You know, I’ve done nothing but support your business and be a loving wife. Well, now I’m going to take everything I can from you—starting with your savings.”

Earl turned to me, a snarl across his pale face. His eyes dropped to the briefcase in my hand. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll pay for this. I won’t tolerate being stalked and photographed. I have excellent lawyers, you know!”

And so did I. Did he think that idle threat would scare me? I clutched the briefcase to my chest. “I only did the job that was asked of me, Mr. Timmons. If you didn’t want to be exposed as a cheater, perhaps you shouldn’t have been one. So do your worst, but I have the Merrick family lawyers working for me.”

His jaw clenched, recognizing the name. “Give me back that briefcase—it belongs to me. And no one will get hurt.”

Margot stood a few feet away, silently fuming as she watched us. Earl crept closer to me to pry the suitcase out of my arms. I couldn’t let that happen—I had worked hard and needed the money—so I did the only thing I could think of.

With the path to the front door blocked, I ran toward the balcony, flinging the door open and rushing onto the iron porch. Earl growled and chased after me as I glanced down. It was only the second floor—how far could it be?

I did have a gun hidden in my dress pocket, a golden Smith & Wesson Model 10. I only used that when I was in real danger. And a cheater like Earl Timmons wasn’t worth shooting and going to jail for.

“Game over, spy,” he muttered, leaning onto the porch. “Give me the briefcase. Now!”

“No can do,” I said with a smile, then jumped.

The fall was fun, but the landing wasn’t. With a groan, I landed on my feet a little harder than I would’ve liked into the bushes below. They had cushioned my fall as I kept a firm grip on the suitcase—my payday. I glanced up, watching Earl snarl down at me with Margot glaring at him from behind.

“Don’t think you can get away!” Earl called out. “I’ll find you. You haven’t seen the last of me, no matter how good your damn lawyers are!”

I rolled my eyes and turned my back. I didn’t want to waste time, so I took off down the street in my heels back to my car. “Drinks are on me tonight,” I said with a grin, throwing the briefcase onto the seat and starting the engine.

I drove through the busy streets, the sky growing darker until I reached The Primrose. The sign above the door to the maroon building sparkled with the emblem of a cabaret dancer wearing a top hat. I parked around the back, grabbing the briefcase. As I walked toward The Primrose, hearing my employees getting ready for another busy night of good food and dancing—and of course, that illegal speakeasy in the basement—I heard an argument.

I glanced down the darkening street, noticing two people standing there. One was a woman, wearing a sparkly blue gown, a cloche hat like mine, and black heels. She was beautiful—dark hair, dewy skin, green eyes, and freckles like stars on her face.

The minute I saw her, I knew I was in love.

Her green purse jiggled on her arm as the man she was with grabbed her, and not in a lover’s embrace. He seemed angry. He had blond hair, blue eyes, wore a black suit with loafers, and a gray fedora.

I crept toward them, reaching for the golden gun in my dress pocket. A lady should never be without her pistol. That was my number one rule.

“Roy, please,” the woman was saying, her voice soft and smooth like butter. “I just wanted us to have a good time tonight—”

“No, you got dressed up to act like a harlot,” the man spat, tightening his grip on her. I feared he’d leave red marks on her skin. “I bet you wanted to come here to sing, didn’t you? What did I tell you? You don’t need your silly singing career any longer. You have me now.”

The woman was a singer? I was intrigued. We were always looking for new talent at The Primrose, and saving women from abusive men was exactly what Sly Fox Investigations did.

Without thinking, I ran over—my suitcase and gun in hand, ready to defend a beautiful woman from that brute.