Echoes of Infamy

Book 3: Bishop & Gallagher Mystery

by Shaina Steinberg

Genres: Mystery

Synopsis

In postwar Los Angeles, former spies Evelyn Bishop and Nick Gallagher dig into shady real estate dealings, murder, and the appalling aftereffects of Japanese American internment during World War II.

Now president of her father’s company, Bishop Aeronautics, Evelyn is presiding over a groundbreaking ceremony for the expansion of her factory when she is approached by Billy Takemura, a Japanese American soldier who announces that she’s building on stolen land.

Like Evelyn and Nick, Billy is a war hero. He served in the decorated 442nd Nisei company, while most of his family were forcibly interned at Manzanar. Their thriving family restaurant, and the land it occupied, were taken while they were in the camp.  

Determined to right this wrong—and concerned about her father’s possible involvement in profiteering—Evelyn enlists Nick in her investigation. What starts as a discovery of widespread fraud quickly graduates to murder. Suspects range from an unscrupulous business partner to a bitter widow to Billy’s hotheaded brother. It’s up to Evelyn and Nick to expose the truth. However, it’s not easy when Evelyn is fending off betrayal in her own company and Nick’s brutal childhood returns to haunt him.  

Nothing is as it seems as secrets threaten to destroy the life they have worked so hard to build . . .

Release date: May 26, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

Los Angeles, June 1949

Evelyn Bishop’s red suit stood out like a beacon against the dull gray sky. Her dark brown curls were pinned back neatly. She wore simple makeup and jewelry. As the female president of one of the largest companies in the world, she understood she was a novelty. Her usual instinct was to hide in the shadows, but that was a luxury she could no longer afford. Instead, she stood on a high, hastily constructed stage on the edge of an empty field that would soon become the new Bishop Aeronautics Factory. The podium was covered in red, white, and blue ribbons, while several American flags waved lazily in the breeze. Almost two hundred people were in attendance—mostly employees, politicians, and locals, who were all counting down the minutes until they popped the corks on the free champagne.

The mayor of Los Angeles, newly minted and unaware of the company’s recent history, spoke of Bishop Aeronautics’ outstanding commitment during World War Two when it came to manufacturing the airplanes that flew over Europe and the Pacific. The governor, playing to the crowd, talked about the company’s service to the troops, both during the war and upon the veterans’ returns. The U.S. senator, who knew better, simply spoke of the future.

In between each speech, the local high school’s marching band struck up rousing renditions of national songs. They ranged from “America the Beautiful” to “My Country, ’Tis of Thee” to “You’re a Grand Old Flag.” It felt like overkill. As Evelyn waited for the last bars of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” to fade, she wondered if this show of patriotism was meant to counteract the fact that her father was a traitor. For the last two weeks, Lewis Bryson, her vice president in charge of operations, had stopped by her office at least once a day to warn her against mentioning Logan Bishop. Each time, she nodded, wondering how to celebrate the expansion of her company without mentioning its founder. Evelyn had spent months working on her speech. It was hard to find the words to explain the significance of this project. It was the fulfillment of her father’s dreams … and the last of the road map he left before ceasing to be one of the lodestars in her life.

Evelyn glanced down at her notes. The mischievous part of her wanted to deliver an epic poem. The pragmatic part knew she had to be done by four so the story could run in the evening edition of the Los Angeles Times.

“Bishop Aeronautics is a family company,” Evelyn began. “Not just because my father built it from the ground up. Nor because I’m currently running it. It’s our belief that everyone who works here is a vital part of this community and we take care of each other. We understand that every aircraft holds someone precious, whose loved ones are waiting at the end of a journey. New advancements, like those produced here, will shrink the world and open up new adventures. A journey from New York to London now takes seventeen hours. Soon that will be reduced to seven. As we step into the jet age, we have a commitment not only to the city of Los Angeles and the state of California, but to every single person who flies on our planes. We hold this mission sacred and promise to continue earning your trust every single day.”

Polite applause and one loud wolf whistle from Evelyn’s husband, Nick Gallagher, followed her speech. Even five months after their wedding, it still felt strange to use the word “husband.” As Evelyn stepped off the stage, flashbulbs burst, recording the seventy-six-step journey to where a silver shovel waited for the official groundbreaking. Until recently, this was farmland and Evelyn’s heels sank low into the loamy earth. She took the shovel and symbolically moved a scoop of dirt two feet from where it originated—a prelude to the excavators arriving the next morning. After another round of applause, she was swallowed by well-wishers and those wanting a photograph to commemorate their presence. The bureaucrats smiled broadly, sharing the glory of an event in which they took no part. It felt like ages, but realistically, it was approximately a half hour before she finished the obligatory handshakes.

Evelyn let out a deep sigh, relishing the stillness after the pomp and circumstance of the day. Nick pushed through the lingering crowd. He was tall, with dark hair and a nose that tilted at a slight angle from where it was broken years ago and never properly set. The look he gave her always made her feel like they were the only two people in the world. He grabbed her in a bear hug, swinging her off her feet and twirling her in a circle.

“Great speech,” Nick said, then kissed her in a way that was not meant for public consumption.

“You liked it because it was short,” Evelyn teased.

“I think you hit all of the high notes,” he replied, not denying her statement.

Behind Nick was Carl Santos, one of her oldest and closest friends. Broad-shouldered, with sharp, intelligent eyes, he often looked stern and imposing, as befit his position at the FBI. Underneath was a warm, kind person who could make anyone feel at ease. Evelyn, Nick, and Carl met during the war when they worked for the OSS. The fear and the secrecy of their assignments cemented their bond, both behind the enemy lines and in the pubs of London. Now, years later, in the daylight of civilian life, they were still family.

Evelyn gave Carl a hug.

“Thanks for coming.”

“For you, always,” he replied with a broad smile. It wasn’t the first time he showed up for her, but at least this time, no one was shooting at them. “This place is going to be incredible.”

“You put together a nice shindig,” said a voice from behind Evelyn. She turned to see LAPD Captain John Wharton, whom she had invited to represent the police onstage. Both Nick and Carl had served under him with varying degrees of success. He was a gruff man, utterly devoted to the job and the citizens he protected. Evelyn worked with him enough to develop a deep respect that almost bordered on friendship.

“I’m so glad you came,” Evelyn said as she gave him a hug. He stood stiffly for a moment, before putting one arm around her and patting her back awkwardly.

“Hate to break it to you, but this isn’t my jurisdiction.”

“What? Who am I going to call when I get into trouble?” she asked.

“You could let things be boring for a while,” Wharton suggested.

“If only,” Carl sighed.

“Can’t imagine it’s easy with Gallagher around,” Wharton agreed.

“Nice to know you care,” Nick said, grinning.

A few other people, including Evelyn’s close friends Colette and Lily, came by to offer their congratulations. Evelyn’s aunt Taffy, who, along with Evelyn’s secretary, Julia, had organized the event, approached to receive their well-deserved accolades.

“‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’?” Evelyn asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They went rogue,” Taffy replied. “I told them two songs up front, but it seemed rude to call out fifteen-year-olds for showing off. This might be their only moment of glory.”

Evelyn laughed, but her attention was caught by a soldier, wearing his dress uniform. He made a beeline toward them, his innate confidence not hiding his anxiety, nor his anger. As he approached, Evelyn deciphered his rank from the insignia on his uniform.

“How can I help you, Captain?” Evelyn asked, offering a guarded smile.

Carl looked over with surprised recognition. “Billy? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I worried you might try to stop me,” the man replied before turning to Evelyn. “My name is Billy Takemura from the 442nd. You’re building this factory on stolen land.”

Twenty minutes later, Evelyn, Nick, Carl, and Billy Takemura were sitting in Evelyn’s office. It was sparsely decorated with a desk, a few chairs, and an uncomfortable couch. The most prominent feature was a picture window that looked over the factory floor. It was quiet and dark, seeing everyone went home after the ceremony. Julia Martinez, Evelyn’s secretary, arrived with two bottles of champagne, but when she saw their expressions, she changed her offer to coffee. Evelyn glanced toward those assembled, who shook their heads.

“No, thanks,” Evelyn said. “But, please check if Lewis is still here. He would have been part of the land deal.”

“Of course,” Julia said, then left the office, closing the door behind her.

Billy’s eyes warily surveyed the room, already on the defensive. Carl stepped closer and put his hand on Billy’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Captain Takemura—” Evelyn began.

“I’m no longer in the Army,” Billy corrected. “However, I find people are more willing to hear me out when I remind them that I am an American citizen who served my country. I was born in Long Beach and I deserve to be here as much as the next person.”

Clearly, this was an argument he had fought more times than Evelyn could imagine.

“Billy and I met during the war,” Carl explained. “In Bruyères.”

“Didn’t really catch me at my best,” Billy agreed, with a faint smile.

Nick whistled under his breath. In late 1944, the 442nd, a unit made up entirely of Japanese American soldiers, was caught up in a brutal campaign to rescue Bioffontaine and Bruyères, in Northern France. It involved over twenty-four hours of intense combat. Before they could rest, however, they were tasked with breaking through German lines to rescue a battalion from Texas. It was almost a full week of fighting uphill, through mined fields, and suffering hundreds of casualties.

“You lost a lot of good people,” Nick said. “Never seen a braver group of men.”

“The Japanese American unit was the most decorated in the war,” Billy replied.

“Which was even more impressive, considering the circumstances,” Carl added.

Billy’s face softened slightly as he looked at Carl in gratitude for his support.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Evelyn suggested.

“My parents were born in Japan. They came to the States when they were young, thinking this was the land of opportunity, where they could build themselves a life.” Billy shook his head at the irony. “My brother, Hanzo, is the oldest, then me, and last is my sister, Mary. Life wasn’t perfect before the war, but we worked hard and my parents had a thriving restaurant, right on the corner of the land you’re turning into your new factory. Dad managed the front of the house, serving meals, overseeing staff, and handling the money. My mother cooked in the back. My brother, sister, and I picked up whatever else needed to be done. It was the only place where we didn’t quarrel. My father would have killed us.”

“This place was the same for my brother and me,” Evelyn remembered. “A family business is sacred.”

Billy studied her for a moment, then nodded.

“I went to Occidental for college and studied history,” he continued. “Back then, I wanted to be a professor.”

“And now?” Nick asked.

“Who would hire me? There aren’t a ton of opportunities for Japanese Americans. They’ll let us work in the fields or clean homes, but they don’t want us teaching their kids or performing surgery on their parents. Somehow, we’re still the enemy.”

“You and your family were interned in 1942,” Carl said.

“No human should ever be rounded up by armed men and thrown into camps. My parents did everything right. They worked harder than you can imagine, never asked for handouts. They spent a lifetime building a business and it was ripped away from them, through no fault of their own.”

“What happened to the restaurant after you were taken away?” Evelyn asked.

“We entrusted it to a friend,” Billy replied. “Letters from him slowed, then eventually stopped. Last we heard, he’d run it into the ground and closed the doors.”

“If you never sold it,” Nick said, “you should still have claim to it.”

“All I know is that when my family came back in 1945, the restaurant was their first stop. It had turned into a diner run by someone we’d never met before. My brother, Hanzo, lost it, started yelling that it was ours and demanding to see their deed. The cops were called and he spent the night in jail.”

“There had to be some records,” Evelyn insisted.

“And so much red tape,” Billy replied. “How could we prove we didn’t sell it?”

There was a soft knock on the door and Evelyn looked up to see Julia.

“Sorry for interrupting,” she said. “Lewis is gone for the day.”

“Please set up a meeting with him in the morning.”

Julia nodded, jotting down a note in the small notebook she carried everywhere.

“I can’t change what happened to your family,” Evelyn said, turning back to Billy. “Nor can I give you back your restaurant. When we started preparing for construction, I didn’t know its history. We leveled the entire site.”

“My family didn’t want me coming here today. They thought it was pointless. At least you listened to me,” Billy said as he turned to leave. “That’s more than I expected.”

“If you didn’t think Evelyn could help you, why did you come?” Nick asked.

“I had to say my piece,” Billy replied. “I needed you to know what happened.”

“And now that we do?” Carl prodded gently.

“I don’t feel much better,” Billy admitted, turning to Evelyn. “Maybe your family stole the land. Maybe they didn’t. Most people aren’t evil, but they didn’t speak up when it mattered.”

Evelyn felt the guilt of his indictment. It was true, she did not protest what happened. She remembered reading in the paper about the mass roundup of Japanese Americans and thinking it was atrocious. It also felt like a foregone conclusion by the federal government. There was nothing she could do to change it, nor did she try. By then, her brother was a POW and her mind had room for little else. Not that it was an excuse.

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn said, hoping those words would cover a multitude of sins.

“Thank you,” Billy replied. It was not the apology he deserved, but it was all she could offer at that moment.

Evelyn and Nick’s house sat on the edge of the beach. A concrete boardwalk divided the sand from their front lawn. In the distance, they heard the waves crashing and the constant calls of the seagulls. Theirs was a relatively small two-bedroom house that came furnished in various shades of white and beige. In the right light, it mimicked the look of the sand beyond their windows. Evelyn sought to break up the monotony with a rug, pillows, and a throw blanket in a riot of colors. Their other addition to the space were the books that lined the shelves from floor to ceiling. Both she and Nick were avid readers and appreciated distractions when thoughts of the past made it impossible to sleep.

While the crisp, clean ocean air was pleasant in the daytime, night had fallen and it was not quite summer enough to fully invite nature to take up residence. Evelyn closed most of the windows, except in the living room, where Nick lay on the couch reading. Upon seeing her, he set his book aside and opened his arms. She slid into them, resting her head on his chest. The subtle thump of his heartbeat was a metronome quieting her thoughts to a measured pace. Inhaling, she was comforted by his scent. She would know it anywhere, signaling that she was home. He held her close and she slowly felt the tension flow out of her. It was not just Billy’s pronouncement and all of the implications it carried, but also the anxiety she had carried while preparing for the groundbreaking ceremony.

“Not exactly the day you were hoping for,” Nick said, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“No, not exactly.”

Their plan had been to go to dinner and celebrate with their closest friends and family. That promise of that evening had been her bright light amidst all of the late nights and drudgery of finalizing the plans for the expansion. No matter how many times she thought she had signed the last form or approved the newest revision, there was always more. She longed for the time when the construction was complete and they were producing planes on a regular schedule, just like her current factory. Though she was a person constantly drawn to adventure, the stress of this project left her longing for a steady routine.

“Your father would be proud,” Nick said. Against his chest, he felt Evelyn’s lips curve into a smile.

“Well, he did most of the work.”

“That’s not true,” Nick replied. “Maybe he started the process, but it was your sheer force of will that got the project approved.”

“Oh, no,” Evelyn corrected. “That was Colette convincing Alan Hunsaker to get the right people to sign off. Did you notice she brought him to the ceremony today?”

“I did, in fact, notice she was not alone,” Nick commented. They had both known and liked Colette’s late husband, George Palmer. Solving his murder had brought them together again after three long years apart. Nick would never feel pleasure at a good man’s death, but he was eternally grateful to reconnect with the woman he now called his wife.

“I wonder what it means,” Evelyn said.

“Maybe all city planners are required to attend groundbreaking ceremonies,” Nick teased. “Maybe he was there for the free champagne.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing that’s any of my business,” Nick replied.

“If you can’t indulge in a little innocent speculation—”

“Gossip.”

“—With your wife, who can you?” Evelyn said.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Nick replied, ignoring her question. “You traveled all over the country getting new contracts approved. You made sure there was enough business to justify the new factory. You hired the right engineers and scientists to build jet engines. I know this was your father’s dream, but you’re making it a reality.”

“Thanks,” she replied quietly.

“You don’t talk about him as much as you used to,” Nick observed. “Nor Matthew.”

“Since we moved here, I’m not surrounded by reminders of my family in the same way.”

The prevailing wisdom was that grief could be conquered with time and space. Evelyn knew the truth. It would forever be her constant companion, making itself known in strange and unexpected moments. After her mother died when Evelyn was eight years old, Logan’s sole focus in life, even more than his company, was to ensure his children felt loved. He had succeeded admirably. For years, Evelyn’s father was her hero and the first person she turned to for advice. When her brother died, they mourned together. Now, even those memories were clouded with his betrayal.

“You must miss Logan,” Nick began. “It’s been almost a year and a half since he … um.”

“Fled. It’s okay, you can say it. He fled from justice. And I helped him.”

“What he did was wrong, but he was trying to save his son,” Nick said. “If we had children, I’d probably make the same decision.”

“If we had children …” Evelyn repeated quietly.

It was not a topic they discussed often. Nick wanted a family, but Evelyn was not sure she shared the sentiment. She knew herself to be a kind, loving person, but that did not always translate into being a good parent. Mothers, especially, were often expected to give more of themselves than she was willing to sacrifice. She loved her work, she loved Nick, and she loved her current life. Who knows how that would change with the addition of a child? Nick was aware of Evelyn’s uncertainty before they married and made the conscious decision to choose her over that dream. Yet, he had not given up hope. He wanted to give his kids all of the love he had never known.

Growing up, Nick thought all disagreements started with raised voices and ended with raised fists. His parents were volatile people whose drinking did not improve their moods. Though they never said it outright, Nick believed he and his siblings were a product of carelessness rather than planning. Nick could not remember a single time his mother gathered him in her arms or his father treated him to a gentle word. From his earliest moments, he was on guard, feeling like home was a place of conditional safety.

When he was twelve, he returned from school to find his parents and siblings had left without him. The next few years, he survived only by the goodness of strangers turned friends. He found backbreaking work, and developed the skills he needed to protect himself. He never sought a fight, but he also learned the hard way that sometimes he had to strike first. After a few instances that made people think he was crazy, they mostly left him alone. He still had scars as rewards for his independence.

The one hope that survived the awful shock of abandonment was that his siblings would return for him. Nick’s eldest brother, Brennan, lied about his age and joined the merchant marines when Nick was eleven. However, Nick’s middle brother, Cassian, was four years older and had often defied their parents. What was once more, to rescue Nick from the streets? His sister, Paula, was three years older. She had shown him the closest thing he had ever known to a mother’s love. There were so many nights when he prayed his siblings would come find him. Perhaps to take him home. Perhaps to start fresh, just the three of them. Whatever passed for a fairy godmother never came. With the distance of time, he could see that this path led him to Evelyn. However, he often wondered if it could have been slightly easier.

Evelyn pushed herself up far enough to kiss Nick. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her as their kiss deepened. Theirs were rarely the sedate kisses of people long married. They always lingered and sometimes, like now, they caught fire. She reached down to the narrow space between their bodies and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her breath caught as his hands trailed along the bare skin of her lower back. He loved her small gasps of pleasure when he touched her. She smiled as he turned her to look into her eyes. Unfortunately, this current couch was not as wide as their previous one. Evelyn rolled a smidge too far and Nick followed. They landed in a heap on the floor.

“This fits in well with the rest of my day,” Evelyn said.

“I had a feeling we’d end up here, but I was hoping for a bit more fun beforehand.”

They looked at each other again, then s. . .