by Cynthia Chow
As we near the end of Pride month, we are featuring one last LGBTQ+ mystery author this week as we review Charlotte Illes is Not a Detective By Katie Siegel. We also have an excerpt from the book after the review! But do not despair, KRL covers LGBTQ+ authors all year long, we just do an extra push during Pride! Details at the end of this post on how to enter to win a copy of the book and a link to purchase the book from Amazon.
Charlotte Illes is Not a Detective by Katie Siegel
Review by Cynthia Chow
Charlotte knew the evening was going downhill as soon as her date said that she’d Googled her. Charlotte was indeed once a “mini Sherlock Holmes,” only without a Watson or cocaine habit (she’d learned to not joke about the last part). No longer a ten-year-old famous for successfully solving crimes operated out of a detective business in her family’s garage, Charlotte is now an aimless twenty-year-old Gen Z-er still living at home while futilely looking for a job that gives her a sense of purpose. So, when her brother calls the Detective Hotline – an actual landline phone that she can’t believe her mother continues to pay for – Charlotte feels obligated to help Landon and his request for a detective. It’s actually his girlfriend Olivia Kimura who needs help, though, as the software developer has been receiving threats possibly related to the delivery app company where she works. Scoop delivery workers have been making plans to unionize, and the death and disappearance of employees mean that Charlotte is unable to resist helping out her brother by once again entering the detective business. 
Dealing with murders and dead bodies violates one of the rules set up by their mother, but this time Charlotte will have the help of her own versions of Nancy Drew’s Bess and George investigating besties. Charlotte first met the Filipino-American, trans, bisexual, mattress company social media director when they were freshmen in high school, and she has known schoolteacher Lucy Ortega since kindergarten. While they are more than eager to once again join into the fray of amateur detective work, Charlotte can’t help but feel like she is regressing and dragging them back into a life that they should have outgrown. Charlotte’s investigating skills have admittedly grown a little rusty – hence the crawling back through a window to retrieve a purse – but it’s her lack of confidence in her instincts that will force her to rely on the support of the very friends whom she believed left her behind. For while they grew up and now live normal, adult lives, Charlotte still hasn’t found an identity that isn’t tied to being a Former Kid Detective.
Anyone who loved reading mysteries as a kid must have at some point wondered what happens when their favorite teen detective grows up. The film Kid Detective delightfully depicted a rather darker and drunker version than this one, even though Charlotte definitely struggles with a similar identity crisis and fear of not living up to expectations. Very few people have the same goals as an adult as they did as a child, and once Charlotte became a teenager she never again found the same sense of purpose. It’s a topic many will in some way relate to, although they will wish that they had their own hilarious, witty, and supportive group of detective-enabling friends. Lucy and Gabe are worthy of their own starring series, with the school teacher looking for a reason to break up with her boyfriend while Gabe’s Instagramming skills far outpace the needs of his unfulfilling job.
Readers of all ages will be able to relate to their attempts to find their own identities, while mystery fans will adore seeing how a child detective grew up. Just as appealing is the inclusivity and diverse cast of characters populating the novel, especially considering how they are woven in seamlessly and naturally. This is a very entertaining and well-crafted mystery that lives up to the author’s own social media popularity.
Charlotte Illes is Not a Detective By Katie Siegel
Chapter 1: The Bowling Alley Is Closing (Also There Was a Murder)
“So . . . I Googled you.”
They hadn’t even ordered their food yet. The last time this happened, she was at least able to hide her involuntary grimace be- hind a curtain of spaghetti. The time before that, a fistful of fries.
Charlotte Illes quickly raised the giant diner menu, but not fast enough to conceal the wince.
The woman sitting across from her—Amy—smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said. “I do it before every date.”
God, I hate that word, Charlotte thought as she slowly lowered the menu. Googled. Just thinking it felt gross.
Katie Siegel
“Oh!” she said, her voice several steps above its usual pitch. She cleared her throat, forcing her tone back down to normal. “Hope you didn’t find my middle school–era fanfic. That’d be embarrassing.” But a relief, Charlotte thought. She hoped that was all Amy found.
She cracked a smile, hoping her date would take the out, laugh at the joke, and change the subject to something more palatable. Like tax returns. Or lawn care.
“No, it wasn’t that,” Amy said, leaning forward eagerly. She had that look in her eye—the look of someone completely oblivious to the fact that the thing they were about to say was way more exciting to them than it would be to their audience. “I didn’t know you were, like, famous!”
Like, famous. Charlotte heard that modifier a lot. Not super famous, or currently famous. But she had, at one point, been sort of, kind of, like, famous.
Charlotte shifted in her seat. “I wasn’t really famous,” she said, beginning what was now a well-rehearsed speech. “I just—” “You were!” Amy said, as if she were gifting Charlotte a great
compliment.
Oh, okay. She wasn’t even going to listen to the speech. Charlotte sat back.
“I mean, there were so many articles about the mysteries you solved,” Amy continued, her eyes bright. “You were, like, a mini Sherlock Holmes.”
Yup, just a ten-year-old solving mysteries and doing cocaine. Charlotte had made that joke the first time she got the Sherlock Holmes comparison on a date. It didn’t land. She never made it again.
“You helped so many people.” Amy took a quick gulp of water, looking at Charlotte over the rim of her glass. She swallowed. “Did you really help the British Museum find a stolen artifact?” Charlotte paused for a moment, going very still. Maybe if she stayed frozen and silent, the other woman would just keep talking, and Charlotte would never have to comment on her well-documented childhood.
But Amy was gazing at her expectantly, so she cleared her throat and said, “Yes. Yeah, I . . . yeah.”
As Amy continued to gaze, Charlotte realized she was wait- ing for more than that. “Oh. Um, I was in London on a family trip when the museum got robbed. I looked around, talked to a few people, and saw that a screw on an air vent was a little loose . . . it was pretty quick work after that.”
She paused for a moment, then added with a half-smile, “Of course, the statue had already been stolen way before then.”
Amy’s eyes widened with excitement. “This wasn’t the first time it was stolen?”
“You know, because . . . the British Museum. Most of the artifacts were stolen from other countries.” Charlotte hesitated as the eagerness in Amy’s eyes began to dim. “A lot of artifacts in Western museums are . . . stolen.”
“Oh.” Amy took another drink from her glass, much longer than her last one.
Charlotte felt indignant as the mood suddenly shifted. Why did she always have to tell stories from her childhood to keep the date going well? Why couldn’t she talk about looted cultural property instead?
She seized the opportunity to catch the eye of Maggie, the diner’s manager (and host, on slow nights like this one). Charlotte flashed her a distressed look.
“Already?” Maggie mouthed back, stepping out from behind the host stand.
Charlotte gave a subtle nod, then looked back as Amy put down her glass. Behind her date’s head, she saw Maggie flag down a server and send her towards their booth.
“Sooooo . . .” Charlotte said, drawing out the word for as long as she could as she watched the server—Jordan—approach the table. Right as Jordan was about to reach them, someone in the adjacent booth called out. To Charlotte’s dismay, Jordan stopped to respond.
Charlotte’s jaw tightened. She really didn’t want to give Amy the opportunity to reopen her line of questioning, and she was clearly already gearing up for round two.
As Amy opened her mouth to speak, Charlotte blurted out, “So, did you just get out of a long-term relationship?”
The diner’s retro jukebox, while usually one of Charlotte’s favorite things about the place, chose that inopportune moment to end the song that had been playing, making the silence that followed even louder than it would’ve been otherwise.
Amy blinked. “Um . . . yeah, actually.”
Charlotte glanced back at Jordan, who was still talking to the people in the other booth. “That must’ve been rough.”
Amy shrugged noncommittally, looking vaguely confused. “It was a long time coming, honestly. I’m taking it better than I thought I would.”
Charlotte bobbed her head way too enthusiastically. “Cool.
Very cool. Good for you.” Amy stared at her. “How—”
Charlotte silently thanked the diner gods for their mercy as Jordan finally arrived at their booth, a wide smile on her face. “Hey there,” she said, pulling out a pad and pen. “Ready to order?”
“So, what do you do?” Charlotte asked as soon as Jordan walked away with their menus. It was a question she normally hated receiving on dates, but one she found useful when trying to get the other person to talk about themselves for an extended amount of time.
Looking like she’d rather continue delving into Charlotte’s childhood, Amy reluctantly began talking about her work. Charlotte tried to concentrate on what her date was saying, but her brain was already working in overdrive to figure out how to keep the conversation off of her sleuthing days.
Their food arrived, and Charlotte managed to squeeze in one mundane story about having to jump-start her car before Amy said, “I’m sorry, I just have to go back to the whole child detective thing.”
Charlotte paused chewing for a moment, then continued, swallowing a mouthful of cheese and tomato. “Sure,” she finally said, putting down her sandwich. “I mean, I promise you, it really wasn’t as wild as a lot of the articles made it sound, but . . .” She put a tight smile on her face. “What do you want to know?” Amy put her spoon down. “It’s just . . . nuts, right?” she said. “How you kept solving mysteries that adults couldn’t.” Her brow furrowed as she suddenly looked concerned. “Was it a lot of
pressure?”
Here we go.
Charlotte pursed her lips. In her experience, there were two types of people who wanted to hear about Charlotte’s experience as a kid detective. In fact, she was convinced that she could write an entire dissertation on the topic:
The Two Types of People Who Want to Hear About Charlotte’s Experience as a Kid Detective
by Charlotte Illes
As a former kid detective (FKD), it is only a matter of time after meeting a new person that the FKD’s amateur sleuthing days becomes the main topic of conversation. After years of experiencing these conversations, it is clear that almost all people can be divided into two categories, determined by the kind of questions they ask about this time in the FKD’s life. These two types of people will henceforth be referred to as the Audience Member and the Psychologist.
The first type of person—and the most common of the two—is the Audience Member. This person wants to hear as many stories as they can about the FKD, despite the former detective’s semi-blatant distaste for the subject. The Audience Member wants to know about every celeb- rity the FKD met (the Hilary Duff story is a crowd favor- ite), every close call she had (getting stuck in the back of an 18-wheeler heading for the Canadian border always takes the cake), and every reward she’d received (her mom made her turn down most gifts, and any reward money went straight into her college fund). Essentially, the Audience Member wishes to be entertained.
The second type of person is the Psychologist—rarer in quantity, but arguably more stressful to deal with than the Audience Member. This person wants to get into the head of the FKD. The Psychologist wants to know how her childhood affected her, mentally and emotionally, and if she still experiences those effects as an adult. They ask about her scariest moment (train boxcar full of snakes), if her parents took advantage of her fame (no), and if her parents forced her to keep doing detective work (again, no—everyone always wants a story about her parents being horrible to her, and they’re almost always disap- pointed with the truth). Essentially, this person wants to be the one to help the poor FKD work through any trauma she may have experienced.
It has become clear, over the years, that despite their differences, the Audience Member and the Psychologist have one big similarity: despite their intentions (most of these people only have good intentions), both make her feel like a bug under a microscope. Which is pretty FKD.
Amy was staring at Charlotte, waiting for a response, her spoon still lying in her rapidly cooling matzo ball soup.
Charlotte gave a small smile. “Sure,” she said. “There was some pressure.” She shrugged. “But, you know, who doesn’t experience pressure as a kid?”
Of course, there was much more to it than that, but that was a conversation for a therapy session (of which she’d had many), not a first date.
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw Maggie watching them as she led a family to their table. Maggie Lewis was in her mid-fifties, White, with curly blond hair perpetually pulled up into a messy bun. She had known Charlotte as early as her pre-detective days, back when Charlotte’s mom would bring her and Landon to the diner for milkshakes. Charlotte would sit at the counter, legs kicking against the vinyl cushion of the chair, solving the maze on the children’s menu in under a minute.
But Maggie, unlike most other adults in Charlotte’s life, wouldn’t gush over how observant or clever Charlotte was. She would just disappear into the back and emerge a few minutes later with two milkshakes and a new maze drawn on a napkin for Charlotte to solve, always more difficult than the one on the menu.
Nowadays, Maggie and Charlotte’s relationship was less mazes and milkshakes, and more of Maggie helping Charlotte escape out the back door of the diner during especially rough dates. Maggie particularly enjoyed making up excuses for why Charlotte had to run out, to the point where Charlotte had to tell her to ease up on the tall tales. (“In what world would NASA ask me to go to space?”)
This date wasn’t bad enough to warrant an emergency exit,
although Charlotte definitely wasn’t planning on there being a second one. She didn’t blame Amy—no one, especially the Psychologists, ever considered how often Charlotte had been asked the same questions over and over again.
Charlotte just couldn’t help but feel like she was sitting in a ten-year-old’s shadow every time they looked at her.
The rest of the date went by quickly after that. Charlotte steered the conversation back to Amy, who talked about a TV show she was watching before pivoting to Charlotte’s astrological chart.
“You have to find out what time you were born,” Amy explained as their plates were cleared. “It’s the only way to know exactly who you are. Astrologically, I mean.”
Jordan brought over the check, and Charlotte managed to win the “no, let me pay” debate, despite not currently having an income.
“As long as you let me pay next time,” Amy joked. Charlotte let out a ha ha and hoped it didn’t sound too forced. The two walked out of the diner into the warm July evening.
“My car’s over there,” Amy said, pointing across the parking lot. “Oh, I’m that way.” Charlotte jerked her head in the opposite direction. “Um, it was nice meeting you!”
“Same!” Amy started to lift her arms, as if to go in for a hug, then seemed to rethink the move. She scratched the back of her neck instead. “I’ll text you?”
“Sounds good.”
Amy gave a little wave and said goodbye, then turned and walked to her car.
Charlotte stood under the diner’s neon sign, bathed in its pink and blue light, and watched Amy cross the parking lot before walking over to her own car. She stopped, pretending to inspect the pressure of one of her back tires, listening for the sound of an engine turning on.
Giving the tire a little kick (she didn’t actually know how to check tire pressure), Charlotte looked up to wave as Amy drove past. As soon as the car’s taillights disappeared around the corner, she straightened, turned on her heel, and headed back into the diner.
“That didn’t look too bad,” Maggie commented as Charlotte pulled herself up onto a seat at the counter. “I’m a little disappointed. I had a really good excuse this time.”
Charlotte rested her arms on the counter and dropped her chin on top of them. “Did it involve me going into space?” she asked wearily.
Maggie pulled a giant bag of mints out from under the counter and got to work refilling the little glass bowl next to the cash register. “No. I had you rushing to the hospital to donate your stomach to a woman in critical condition.”
Charlotte grabbed a mint and popped it into her mouth. “Yuh con’t donate yer shtomach wall yer stull alahve,” she said, her words garbled by the mint.
“I know that,” Maggie said, closing up the bag and bending over to put it away.
Tucking the mint into her cheek, Charlotte leaned over the counter, looking down. “You were gonna kill me off?”
Maggie straightened, tucking a loose blond curl back beneath her headband. “You would’ve died a hero!” she said. “Plus, it would’ve been a surefire way to make sure she didn’t text you again.”
“I guess,” Charlotte said grumpily, sucking on the mint.
Maggie crossed her arms. “Hey, missy,” she said. “You know, one of these days, you’ll have to go on a second date.”
“Wanna bet?”
Maggie rolled her eyes, then gently tapped twice on the lami- nate countertop with her fingertips, remembering something. “What was the name of the town your brother moved to?”
“Highview.” Maggie began to walk away as Charlotte spoke, remaining in earshot. “It’s up in North Jersey, close to the city. Commuter town.”
Maggie returned with a newspaper in her hand. She dropped it onto the counter.
Charlotte looked down at it. “ ‘Bowling Alley Chain Closes After Declaring Bankruptcy.’ Burrito Bowl closed? Sad.” She looked up. “That’s where everyone used to have their birthday parties. And get food poisoning.”
Maggie picked up the paper and used it to bop the top of Charlotte’s head. “Not that, smarty pants.” She put the paper down again and pointed a French-manicured finger at a different headline.
Smoothing down her hair, Charlotte returned to the paper and read:
Highview resident found dead in park
Charlotte’s stomach dropped. She kept reading:
A man was found dead Monday night in Highview, with a gunshot wound in his chest, a New Jersey State Police spokesperson said.
The man has been identified as 27-year-old Bernard Hughes. The body was found in Carolina Park. Police are still looking for the shooter, according to Sgt. Abigail Rossi, of the State Police.
Highview resident Louise Finch was walking her dog when she saw Hughes lying in the grass.“When I looked closer, I saw a big bloodstain on the front of his shirt,” said Finch. She called 911, and Hughes was declared dead on the scene.
Residents in the area were unsure if they heard the gunshot due to fireworks being shot off nearby.
Hughes was a delivery driver for the online delivery company Scoop, but was not working at the time of his death, according to Sgt. Rossi.
Charlotte looked back up. “Okay, next time you ask me about Landon and then show me a news article about a murder, could you preface it with something like, ‘This article is not about your brother,’ or something like that?”
Maggie put her hands up defensively. “Sorry. But tell him to be careful.”
Charlotte gave her an amused look. “Landon’s one of the most careful people I know.”
“I’m just saying. I worry about him, out there in the big city.” “Commuter town,” Charlotte corrected.
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “I should’ve killed you off with the stomach donation story.” She grabbed the paper out of Charlotte’s hands and gave her one final bop on the head. “Alright, get out of here. You’re scaring off the customers.”
“But I’m your favorite customer!” “Out.” Maggie turned to walk away. “Hey, Maggie?” Charlotte said quickly.
The older woman turned back, an eyebrow raised.
“I know we joke about the excuses you make up for me, but . . .” She flashed a tight smile that faded just as fast. “Thanks for never telling them I had to leave to solve a mystery or something.”
Maggie pursed her lips, giving Charlotte the same look she would give when Charlotte was seven and finished another maze without touching her milkshake. Then she walked over to the case of baked goods by the cash register, grabbed a couple of big black-and-white cookies with a piece of wax paper, and dropped them into a paper bag. She slid the bag towards Charlotte.
“One of those is for your mom,” she said warningly. “And I don’t mean the two vanilla halves. I mean one full cookie.”
Charlotte smiled. “Thanks.”
Maggie gave her one last Look, then headed into the kitchen. Charlotte pushed herself off of the chair, holding the bag of cookies in one hand, and walked out of the diner for the second time that night. She knew Maggie was probably right. Maybe she didn’t give people a fair chance to really get to know her beyond whatever they had read on the first page of Google’s search results. But as she walked past the spot where she had said goodbye to Amy, her farewell rang in Charlotte’s head.
“Bye, Lottie.”
Learn more about Katie and find all of her social media including her very popular TikTok on her website!
To enter to win a copy of Charlotte Illes is Not a Detective, simply email KRL at krlcontests@gmail[dot]com by replacing the [dot] with a period, and with the subject line “charlotte” or comment on this article. A winner will be chosen July 1, 2023. U.S. residents only, and you must be 18 or older to enter. If you enter via email please include your mailing address in case you win. You can read our privacy statement here if you like.
Check out other mystery articles, reviews, book giveaways & mystery short stories in our mystery section. And join our mystery Facebook group to keep up with everything mystery we post, and have a chance at some extra giveaways. Also listen to our new mystery podcast where mystery short stories and first chapters are read by actors! They are also available on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, and Spotify. A new episode went up this week featuring another LGBTQ+ mystery.
You can use this link to purchase the book. If you have ad blocker on you may not see the Amazon link. You can also click here to purchase the book.
Disclosure: This post contains links to an affiliate program, for which we receive a few cents if you make purchases. KRL also receives free copies of most of the books that it reviews, that are provided in exchange for an honest review of the book.
New author for me, sounds good! tWarner419@aol.com
We have a winner!