An American sleuth in Victorian London investigates the murder of a young Jewish woman in this "complex and gripping period whodunit" (Publishers Weekly).London, 1901. With the Boer War raging, England's air is crackling with political intrigue. The rumors are so thick that the newly formed British Secret Service can barely keep a lid on. But it's not South Africa that is on everyone's lips. Rather, it's The Jewish Question: The armies of Antisemitism are on the march, even as the call to Zionism echoes through London's East End. Denton, the famous American expat author, prefers to keep the conflict at arm's length—until his neighbor's murder brings it home. He could stay out of it. He should stay out of it. But . . . but he rather liked the woman. And the police are clueless. So Denton yet again sticks his pointy American nose into England's business. And he keeps it there, even as the price for asking questions gets perilously high.

When Denton hears there's a fellow missing from Oxford, it takes him a while to grasp that "fellow," in this instance, means some sort of academic character, and not, you know, a fellow. A bloke. Never mind: He's happy to set off for Oxford and poke around. He imagines a holiday, a peaceful sojourn among the hushed libraries and the famous dreaming spires. It will be so different from frantic, filthy London, muscling its way into the 20th century... Turns out, those dreaming spires hide nightmares as wicked as anything in the city's back alleys. He stumbles in particular into the web of vicious rivalries otherwise known as the School of Archeology, with hatreds rooted in the famous discovery of the ancient city of Troy. Grisly suicides, terrifying curses, threats of eye-popping violence—it's the stuff of penny dreadfuls. No wonder the fellow has disappeared; Denton wouldn't mind following his lead and hopping a train back to London.

An expatriate U.S. Civil War veteran and sheriff turned novelist living in Edwardian London follows a deadly trail in search of a missing box. It’s true that Denton and Henry James are both American writers now living in London, but they have little else in common: James has the gravitas (and perhaps the pomposity) of a living legend, master of the literary kingdom, while Denton . . . well, he’s scruffy and often covered in dog hair. But he does have this knack for sorting out problems, and James has just such a problem. There was a box, you see, and now it’s gone missing, and in the box were certain letters that, if made public, could be most embarrassing. Most embarrassing indeed.  Praise for the Denton Mysteries“Cameron . . . paints a striking portrait of London, and Denton is a hero whose unheroic side only makes his character more appealing.” —Kirkus...

England in the chilly winter of 1902 is captive to a new craze: Mediums and psychics are springing up like toadstools after a rainstorm, and the public is rushing to consult them, thirsty for intimations of the Great Beyond. No surprise, Denton has his doubts: An American Yankee in King Edward's city, he is a walking representative of the "Show Me" state. Nevertheless, he's agreed to write a book about ghosts and hauntings, and has taken himself to Italy to do it. Napoli may be bella, but it offers Denton only boredom and frustration, until a dead body – a real one, made of blood and bone rather than ectoplasm – shows up to make life interesting. Even more interesting? The murderer looks to come from among Denton's new circle of oh-so-spiritual friends.