Evie is a would-be flapper with too much spunk and too little common sense. After exposing a boy's shameful secret at a party, Evie is exiled to New York City to stay with her uncle. The city has all the booze and parties that she'd hoped for, but it also contains a terrible mystery: a serial killer is stalking the streets, and only Evie and her uncle can find and stop him.
I do really like Evie, who never thinks ahead but whose intemperate actions are often more effective than any plan. That said,
I don't like that she's become involved with Jericho, who her best friend has been in love with for years. Thou shalt not move in on your friend's crush, especially if your friend is continually sacrificing her own interests for yours. This is the first instance in which Evie seemed not just thoughtless but outright selfish, and it soured the end for me. The other thing that soured the ending for me was that there WAS NO FUCKING ENDING. After slogging through five hundred goddamn pages of minor characters infodumping their sadsack backstories in lieu of plot development, the serial killer is stopped. Huzzah! Except then there are about six more chapters to go, each containing yet another mystical portent that This is Just the Beginning, and that Something Worse is Coming. Well I don't give a crap. The pacing in this book was so incredibly terrible that even though I liked the characters and Bray's Jazz Age, I will not torture myself with more of this series.
