When the World’s Greatest Detective reunites with her college friends, she discovers that time doesn’t heal all wounds.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Forty-Year Grudge by Liza Tully, which releases on June 9th 2026.
It’s been four decades since the women of Sigma Delta Tau were last together. The passing years, growing families, and maturing careers may have strained the bonds of sisterhood, but now a reunion at the Western ranch of one member offers an opportunity to renew acquaintances…and at least one long-standing grudge.
Still, this weekend is supposed to be a pleasant diversion for former sorority member and current private investigator Aubrey Merritt. She’s come to New Mexico to reconnect with old friends and she’s brought along her personal assistant, Olivia Blunt—an aspiring detective who is learning more about packing bags on this trip than about solving crimes.
The shocking murder of a sorority sister changes everything. With the local police overmatched, all eyes turn to Merritt and Blunt to crack the case. With a surprising abundance of suspects, it’s going to take both of them to cut through the knot of old hurts and current grievances to find the killer.
In early May, about a month after that fruitless conversation, I got married. Trevor and I, along with his mother, Zuzanna (mostly Zuzanna, actually), had been planning the event for almost a year. It was larger and more elaborate than I’d wanted, and I’d been a wreck leading up to it, worrying whether everything would go all right. But when the day finally came, it was gorgeous and perfect and everything we’d hoped for. Merritt and Gilby attended together. Merritt looked beautiful in a pale blue satin sheath, her blunt‑cut silvery‑white hair combed back smoothly from her forehead, little tinkling silver bracelets on her wrist, pale pink lipstick, and strappy silver sandals on her feet. Gilby, a six‑foot‑four‑inch bodybuilder, wore a dove‑gray suit that made him look even larger and more imposing than usual, though the lemon‑yellow pocket square was a nice softening touch.
I assumed that Merritt hated being there and was attending only because it would have been the height of rudeness not to show up for my big day. I’d feared she would be sullen and miserable, but she made lively conversation with the other guests at her table, and even had a few dances with Trevor’s great‑uncle, who appeared to be delightedly entranced with her. I appreciated the effort she was making, even as I suspected she was counting the minutes until she could return to Gramercy Park, where, once again, we were very busy. Indeed, a few days after our contentious conversation, the cases had started flowing in again. I almost didn’t want to take time out to get married. (Was I, too, a burgeoning workaholic?)
Trevor and I had a lovely two‑week honeymoon at a little seaside hotel in Sicily, finding everything we needed to make us happy in the olive groves, the beaches, and each other. By the time I was back at work, I had completely forgotten about the Sigma Delta Tau re-union. Then, at lunchtime on the Thursday before the Memorial Day weekend, as I was bustling through the front door with Gilby’s 150‑pound bullmastiff, Sarge—a leash in one hand and a bag of take‑out sandwiches in the other—I collided with a short, nearly bald, egg‑shaped man in a mustard‑colored blazer.
We both apologized profusely. Sarge sniffed the man’s crotch. I pulled the mighty canine away with some difficulty and apologized to the man for that too.
When I looked up, Merritt was leaning against the open door of her office, watching the whole thing with a rare smile on her face. “Fitz, this is my assistant, Olivia Blunt. Olivia, this is John Fitzroy, husband to Joan Battersea, my oldest and dearest friend in the world.”
Oldest and dearest friend in the world? Was this the Merritt I knew?
Mr. Fitzroy (aka Fitz) winked at me. “Joan and Aubrey were in-separable. You wouldn’t see one without the other.”
I almost blurted, You’ve got to be kidding, but thought better of it. The name Joan Battersea had rung a bell. I recalled that she was the host of the sorority reunion scheduled for the long holiday week-end that was about to begin.
“Joan will be delighted to hear that you’ve decided to come after all,” Fitz said. He had the blustery, genial manner of a bon vivant. The windowpane pattern of his blazer and the big turquoise ring on his pinkie finger spoke of a refreshing panache.
“I’m looking forward to seeing her too,” Merritt said with apparent sincerity.
“I don’t suppose anyone but Joan and I ought to know why you’re really there,” Fitz said a bit uneasily.
“That would be best.”
“Secrecy isn’t my style, as you probably remember from all those years ago.” He chuckled at his own garrulous nature. “But I suppose it’s necessary in this situation.”
“It’s of paramount importance, Fitz.”
“All right then. We’ll keep it firmly under our hats,” he said with a buoyant smile, his bonhomie easily restored.
When he was gone, I looked at Merritt blankly. “The sorority reunion? Really?”
She smiled sweetly.
“You insisted you didn’t want to go! You said sitting around with a bunch of old ladies would be a waste of time!”
“What makes you think we’ll be sitting around? This is a work trip. We’ve got a case to solve.”
“We?”
“Naturally. There’ll be a number of guests in attendance, and I’m going to need a second set of eyes and ears.” She squinted at me critically, as if assessing my eyes and ears. Then she frowned, as if finding them unsatisfactory.
“But the reunion is this weekend,” I pointed out.
“Correct. So we’ll need to get a move on. Fitz is on his way to the airport now. He was in town briefly to oversee the sale of some fine art objects at Sotheby’s. I need you to drop whatever you’re working on and book us a flight to Santa Fe. Leaving tonight.”
“This is so sudden!”
She gave me a flat look. “Try not to be obvious, Blunt.”
