Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for this. I wanted to like this, but I was disappointed. The premise of a fake PI agency being mistaken for a real one made me think that this was supposed to be funny, but it wasn't. Without adequate humor, the setup is too silly to take seriously. The side characters aren't developed enough for there to be a significant found-family aspect to this book. I wanted to root for the main character and her relationship with her niece, but I ended up being annoyed at the MC's stres about housing/money and the custody battle. Wouldn't it make more sense for the grandparents to provide some financial aid while not uprooting their granddaughter or going against their son's dying wishes? I also knew really early who the murderer was, and I'm not the type of reader who usually tries to figure out whodunnits.

It's interesting to me that the love interest from book 1 really moved away and isn't in the series anymore. This was fine? It was interesting to see more about the ghost dog, and also learn a little bit about the main character's feelings about his military service.

I enjoyed this the same way I enjoy TV shows from the 90s and 00s that are kind of cheesy, but that you can count on to have a pleasant resolution. I'm also a sucker for any books with a dog or psychics in it, even if I always feel slightly guilty about consuming copaganda.

I can always count on John Scalzi for some sarcastic sci-fi fun.

I really love this sci-fi but vaguely 1920s reminiscent setting and the way that it lends itself to interesting cozy mystery twists. The author also does a really good job at humanizing the characters and evoking emotion from the reader, even in such a short format.

I appreciated this, and I found it worthwhile and affecting, especially thinking about the way in which attitudes about sexual assault have changed over the decades, and how far there still is to go. However, the book is a bit scattered, because despite being short, this volume encompasses portions of the stories of the (likely but uncredited) inventor of the rape kit Marty Goddard, the author Pagan Kennedy, and the the rape kit itself.

On thing that struck me while reading this was the way in which Marty attempted to be a palatable feminist, and how this did expedite her goals in the short term, but which may have ultimately contributed to burning out, falling short of her aspirations, and fading away alone because she didn't connect with other allies and a more intersectional approach.

Pagan Kennedy does a good job touching upon the ways in which intersectionality matters, especially in Chicago, where anti-Black racism and police violence, historically and currently, are a huge hindrance in reporting by, and justice for, Black women who experience sexual violence. Kennedy also describes the way in which at-home rape kits increased in use during COVID, which provides some hope, despite the fact that we have seen accessibility of many things, including medical care, rolled back in favor of convenience and profit in unfortunate voluntary societal amnesia.