Format: Hardcover, 320 pages
Release Date: March 4, 2025
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Mystery
Finlay Donovan may have skeletons in her closet . . . but at least there's not a body in her backyard.
Finlay Donovan and her nanny/partner-in-crime, Vero, have not always gotten along with Finlay’s elderly neighbor, Mrs. Haggerty, the community busybody and president of the neighborhood watch. But when a dead body is discovered in her backyard, Mrs. Haggerty needs their help. At first a suspect, Mrs. Haggerty is cleared by the police, but her house remains an active crime scene. She has nowhere to go . . . except Finlay’s house, right across the street.
Finlay and Vero have no interest in getting involved in another murder case—or sacrificing either of their bedrooms. After all, they’ve dealt with enough murders over the last four months to last a lifetime and they both would much rather share their beds with someone else.
When the focus of the investigation widens to include Finlay’s ex-husband, Steven, though, Finlay and Vero are left with little choice but to get closer to Mrs. Haggerty and uncover her secrets . . . before the police start digging up theirs. But who will solve the mystery first?
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Finlay Donovan and her nanny/partner-in-crime, Vero, have not always gotten along with Finlay’s elderly neighbor, Mrs. Haggerty, the community busybody and president of the neighborhood watch. But when a dead body is discovered in her backyard, Mrs. Haggerty needs their help. At first a suspect, Mrs. Haggerty is cleared by the police, but her house remains an active crime scene. She has nowhere to go . . . except Finlay’s house, right across the street.
Finlay and Vero have no interest in getting involved in another murder case—or sacrificing either of their bedrooms. After all, they’ve dealt with enough murders over the last four months to last a lifetime and they both would much rather share their beds with someone else.
When the focus of the investigation widens to include Finlay’s ex-husband, Steven, though, Finlay and Vero are left with little choice but to get closer to Mrs. Haggerty and uncover her secrets . . . before the police start digging up theirs. But who will solve the mystery first?
Finlay Donovan Digs her Own Grave is the Fifth installment in author Elle Cosimano's Finlay Donovan series. Finn and Vero are back from Atlantic City ready to get back into routine, potty training Zach and keeping Delia out of trouble at school after she encounters a bully. The story really kicks off when Finlay Donovan's already hectic life is upended by the discovery of a dead body in her nosy neighbor Mrs. Haggerty’s backyard. Mrs. Haggerty, the self-appointed neighborhood watch president and a longtime thorn in Finlay’s side, is briefly a suspect before being cleared by the police.
With her house declared a crime scene, Mrs. Haggerty has nowhere to go—except Finlay’s place, right across the street. Cue the reluctant hospitality as Finlay and her nanny-turned-partner-in-crime, Vero, are forced to share their space with the cantankerous old lady. At first, Finlay and Vero want nothing to do with another murder investigation—they’ve had their fill of corpses over the past four months, thank you very much. However, when the police investigation shifts focus to Finlay’s ex-husband, Steven, who has a long history of making enemies and cheating on Finlay, the duo has no choice but to dive in.
The three have many secrets between them, but which one will solve the mystery of murder? What follows is a hilarious and suspenseful journey as they team up with Mrs. Haggerty to unravel a web of secrets, including a mysterious book club that might be more dangerous than it seems, and harkens back to another group that wanted a certain cheating husband dead. Along the way, Cosimano expertly balances slapstick comedy with genuine emotional depth, particularly in Finlay’s evolving relationship with Detective Nick Anthony and the surprising layers peeled back from Mrs. Haggerty’s character.
Finlay has grown from the frazzled everywoman of the first book into a more confident, if still hilariously flawed, protagonist. Even though it seems as though she's made a mark as a writer, she's still unsure of her future. Her dynamic with Vero remains the beating heart of the series—their banter is razor-sharp, and their loyalty is unshakable. Mrs. Haggerty, previously a one-note busybody, emerges as a standout here, revealing unexpected depth and even a knack for video games that had me chuckling out loud. The supporting cast, from Finlay’s kids to tech-savvy Cameron, adds warmth and chaos in equal measure.
The mystery itself is engaging, with twists that keep you guessing, though it’s the journey—not the destination—that truly captivates. That said, the romance between Finlay and Nick takes a slight backseat this time—fans of Vero and Javi’s budding relationship or Finlay and Nick’s slow burn might feel a tad shortchanged—but the trade-off is a tighter focus on the central plot and character interplay. The book mixes mystery, humor, and heartwarming moments, often compared to Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series for its suspense and comedy. Oh, and don't even start with that ending! Do I really have to wait an entire year for the sequel to find out what happens?
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CHAPTER 1
Vero and I herded the children upstairs for baths right after dinner, hoping to get the kids down for an early bedtime. Then Vero took Zach to his room, singing silly songs to hold his attention and keep him still while she wrangled him into his pajamas. I drew back Delia’s comforter and tucked her into bed. Her eyelids were heavy, still swollen from her crying jag hours ago, after we had left her principal’s office and emptied her cubby at school.
“Mommy,” she said, playing with a loose lock of hair that had slipped free of my elastic band, “do you still love me?”
I kissed the thoughtful wrinkle in her brow. “I’ll always love you, Delia. More than anything in this world.”
“Even when I do something bad?”
I tucked her stuffed unicorn under her arm and pulled the blanket over both of them. “Making a mistake doesn’t make you a bad person, sweetie. There is nothing you could do that would make me love you any less.”
“But Daddy did something bad, and you don’t love him anymore.”
Vero stopped singing in the next room.
“Who told you that?” I asked.
“Cooper. He said Daddy is a cheater. I told Cooper my daddy never cheats when we play board games. But Cooper said he heard his mommy talking to Dylan’s mommy at the bus stop, and they called Daddy a cheating bag of dirt.” The crinkles in Delia’s tiny forehead deepened. “I tried to ignore him, like you told me to, but he just pulled my hair and kept saying it.”
“Cooper shouldn’t have said that. And neither should his mother.” The women in our neighborhood loved to gossip, but discussing Steven’s infidelities at the bus stop took gossiping a step too far. “Your father is a good man and a wonderful daddy.”
“But Daddy said it, too. He said he did something bad and that’s why you don’t want to be married to him anymore.”
A lump formed in my throat. I settled down onto the edge of Delia’s bed beside her, struggling to come up with the right way to explain the nature of my evolving relationship with her philandering father to my five-year-old without saying more than she was ready to hear. “Just because your dad and I aren’t married anymore doesn’t mean I don’t love him. I love your daddy very much—”
A muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like bullshit permeated the wall of Zach’s room.
I bit down hard and forced myself to smile. “—even if he made some very … very big mistakes.”
“Then why can’t Daddy live with us?” She picked at a thread in her frayed unicorn as I looked around her room at the frilly, pink curtains and watercolor rainbows and hanging kitten posters, searching for an answer.
“You love your brother, right?” I asked. Delia nodded. “You still love him even when he does things that make you angry, but you get along better with him when you each have your own room.”
“Like when he pooped in the bathtub and it made me cry, and now I don’t have to take baths with him anymore?”
“Exactly like that.”
“So now you take baths with Nick?”
Vero stifled a cackle. I resisted the urge to smack the wall.
“Yes … I mean no!” Detective Nicholas Anthony and I had only started dating a few weeks ago. We’d shared a bed (several times) but never a bathtub. “What I mean to say, Delia, is that just because your brother did something that made you angry doesn’t mean you love him any less. Because when you love someone, you love them no matter what.”
“Even when they poop in the tub?”
I fought back a grin. “Even when they poop in the tub.”
“Do grown-ups get in trouble?” she asked after a thoughtful pause.
A laugh broke free. Steven had made far worse mistakes in far bigger bathtubs. For that matter, so had I. “Grown-ups get in the most trouble of all,” I said through a heavy sigh. “The important thing is we say we’re sorry and learn from our mistakes. And we try to do better the next time.” One day, maybe I’d start following my own advice.
I smoothed the comforter around her and stood to go.
“If I say sorry, can I go back to school tomorrow?” she asked as I switched off the light.
“Not tomorrow, sweetie.”
“Then what will we do?”
“I don’t know.” That was a problem for future me. Present me had laundry to do, bills to pay, a house to clean, and a new book to write. Tomorrow, we would do what we always did. “We’ll figure something out.”
* * *
When the kids had both finally drifted off to sleep, I slumped onto the sofa beside Vero with a pile of take-out menus, too exhausted from the events of the last few hours to even think about cooking. We’d taken the kids out for ice cream after our meeting with Delia’s principal, then Steven had gone back to work and we had spent the rest of the day at the park. The kids had been exhausted by the time we got home. We’d fed them an early dinner of frozen chicken nuggets and instant mashed potatoes and given them both a bath; neither one of them had the energy to protest when we’d tucked them in for an early bedtime.
“What do you want for dinner?” I asked, thumbing through the menus.
“Chocolate,” Vero said.
Vero and I herded the children upstairs for baths right after dinner, hoping to get the kids down for an early bedtime. Then Vero took Zach to his room, singing silly songs to hold his attention and keep him still while she wrangled him into his pajamas. I drew back Delia’s comforter and tucked her into bed. Her eyelids were heavy, still swollen from her crying jag hours ago, after we had left her principal’s office and emptied her cubby at school.
“Mommy,” she said, playing with a loose lock of hair that had slipped free of my elastic band, “do you still love me?”
I kissed the thoughtful wrinkle in her brow. “I’ll always love you, Delia. More than anything in this world.”
“Even when I do something bad?”
I tucked her stuffed unicorn under her arm and pulled the blanket over both of them. “Making a mistake doesn’t make you a bad person, sweetie. There is nothing you could do that would make me love you any less.”
“But Daddy did something bad, and you don’t love him anymore.”
Vero stopped singing in the next room.
“Who told you that?” I asked.
“Cooper. He said Daddy is a cheater. I told Cooper my daddy never cheats when we play board games. But Cooper said he heard his mommy talking to Dylan’s mommy at the bus stop, and they called Daddy a cheating bag of dirt.” The crinkles in Delia’s tiny forehead deepened. “I tried to ignore him, like you told me to, but he just pulled my hair and kept saying it.”
“Cooper shouldn’t have said that. And neither should his mother.” The women in our neighborhood loved to gossip, but discussing Steven’s infidelities at the bus stop took gossiping a step too far. “Your father is a good man and a wonderful daddy.”
“But Daddy said it, too. He said he did something bad and that’s why you don’t want to be married to him anymore.”
A lump formed in my throat. I settled down onto the edge of Delia’s bed beside her, struggling to come up with the right way to explain the nature of my evolving relationship with her philandering father to my five-year-old without saying more than she was ready to hear. “Just because your dad and I aren’t married anymore doesn’t mean I don’t love him. I love your daddy very much—”
A muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like bullshit permeated the wall of Zach’s room.
I bit down hard and forced myself to smile. “—even if he made some very … very big mistakes.”
“Then why can’t Daddy live with us?” She picked at a thread in her frayed unicorn as I looked around her room at the frilly, pink curtains and watercolor rainbows and hanging kitten posters, searching for an answer.
“You love your brother, right?” I asked. Delia nodded. “You still love him even when he does things that make you angry, but you get along better with him when you each have your own room.”
“Like when he pooped in the bathtub and it made me cry, and now I don’t have to take baths with him anymore?”
“Exactly like that.”
“So now you take baths with Nick?”
Vero stifled a cackle. I resisted the urge to smack the wall.
“Yes … I mean no!” Detective Nicholas Anthony and I had only started dating a few weeks ago. We’d shared a bed (several times) but never a bathtub. “What I mean to say, Delia, is that just because your brother did something that made you angry doesn’t mean you love him any less. Because when you love someone, you love them no matter what.”
“Even when they poop in the tub?”
I fought back a grin. “Even when they poop in the tub.”
“Do grown-ups get in trouble?” she asked after a thoughtful pause.
A laugh broke free. Steven had made far worse mistakes in far bigger bathtubs. For that matter, so had I. “Grown-ups get in the most trouble of all,” I said through a heavy sigh. “The important thing is we say we’re sorry and learn from our mistakes. And we try to do better the next time.” One day, maybe I’d start following my own advice.
I smoothed the comforter around her and stood to go.
“If I say sorry, can I go back to school tomorrow?” she asked as I switched off the light.
“Not tomorrow, sweetie.”
“Then what will we do?”
“I don’t know.” That was a problem for future me. Present me had laundry to do, bills to pay, a house to clean, and a new book to write. Tomorrow, we would do what we always did. “We’ll figure something out.”
* * *
When the kids had both finally drifted off to sleep, I slumped onto the sofa beside Vero with a pile of take-out menus, too exhausted from the events of the last few hours to even think about cooking. We’d taken the kids out for ice cream after our meeting with Delia’s principal, then Steven had gone back to work and we had spent the rest of the day at the park. The kids had been exhausted by the time we got home. We’d fed them an early dinner of frozen chicken nuggets and instant mashed potatoes and given them both a bath; neither one of them had the energy to protest when we’d tucked them in for an early bedtime.
“What do you want for dinner?” I asked, thumbing through the menus.
“Chocolate,” Vero said.
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