By Laura Levine
I am loopy approximately Laura Levine's secret sequence. Her books are so outrageously humorous. --Joanne Fluke
If outfits make the fellow, then what do Jaine Austen's elastic-waist pants and T-shirts make her? a way nightmare, in line with her neighbor, Lance. She does not anticipate Lance--who works within the fashion designer shoe division at Nieman Marcus--to comprehend. . .which is how she finally ends up vacationing his favourite boutique, Passions. whereas the couture is easily no longer for Jaine, the staff's gossip is. Tiny orange-haired clerk Becky starts off complaining approximately her co-worker Giselle--a.k.a. "Frenchie"-- a brittle blonde who, while she's no longer making enjoyable of shoppers in the back of their backs, provides extra-marital notches to her Chanel belt. although Jaine does not land a brand new glance, she does land a brand new task while Passions' proprietor provides her an opportunity to jot down their new journal advertisements.
But whilst Jaine arrives the following morning to pitch her rules, she unearths Frenchie pitched over, stabbed within the neck through one among her personal stilettos. Now all Jaine has to do is work out who hated Frenchie the main, in a case of loss of life by way of fashion designer knock-off. . .
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Extra info for Shoes to Die For (A Jaine Austen Mystery)
Who’d you assert you have been back? ” Owen requested, squinting at me. “A enterprise affiliate of Frenchie’s. ” He scratched his head, sending a small bathe of dandruff to his shoulders. “I can’t comprehend why extra humans didn’t appear on the church. You’d imagine they'd have desired to come. ” “Only to ensure she used to be relatively useless. ” in fact, I didn’t particularly say that. I simply tsk-tsked sympathetically and stared into the phony fireplace. “Aw, who am I kidding,” he acknowledged, draining the scotch from his beer stein. “I’m not likely stunned. most folks didn’t like Frenchie. She can be a actual whinge. yet God, how I enjoyed her. ” essentially the Costco scotch had loosened his tongue. “I left my spouse and children for her. simply packed up and moved out. After eighteen years of marriage. Arlene didn’t should be taken care of that manner. No, she didn’t. yet what am i able to say? i used to be loopy in love. ” He hauled himself up from his armchair and weaved his approach to the buffet desk. I watched, interested, as he poured himself one other steinful of scotch. “I knew Frenchie was once in simple terms drawn to me for my cash. ” cash? I questioned. What cash? “I was once wealthy whilst she met me,” he stated, as though in solution to my query. “I’d made a fortune in a dot-com startup corporation. while Frenchie and that i have been first married, we lived like kings. A five-bedroom condo in Beverly Hills. seashore position in Malibu. All this furniture,” he acknowledged, gesturing round the room, “came from the seashore apartment. ” “It’s very nice,” I stated, attempting to sustain my finish of the dialog. “But we know what occurred to the dot-com bubble,” Owen stated, plopping down into his armchair. “Poof! ” He took a frighteningly huge gulp of scotch, to get him via that lousy reminiscence. “Once I misplaced my cash, it used to be all over the place. Frenchie had no need for me. She cheated on me correct and left and didn’t hassle to conceal it. I should’ve hated her, yet I didn’t. I couldn’t cease loving her. It was once like she had me less than a spell or whatever. Like that motion picture with Marlene Dietrich, the place she sings ‘Falling in Love Again’. ” “The Blue Angel. ” “Yeah, just like the Blue Angel,” he acknowledged, taking one other vast gulp of scotch. i'll virtually see his liver corroding earlier than my eyes. “Let me get you anything to eat,” I acknowledged. “Nah, nah,” he stated, waving me away. “Not hungry. i may do with a few scotch, notwithstanding. Get me a few extra, will ya, hon? ” He held out his stein, like an alcoholic Oliver Twist. “Really,” I acknowledged. “Let me repair you whatever to devour. ” earlier than he may well cease me, I made my approach into his tiny kitchen. I rummaged round the usually empty cabinets till i discovered a can of tuna. by some means I controlled to toss jointly a tuna salad sandwich on a stale bagel. “Here,” I acknowledged, handing it to him. “You’ve received to consume whatever. ” Reluctantly he took a chew. “You be aware of, for whatever you whipped jointly at the spur of the instant, this is often rather beautiful undesirable. ” glance who was once conversing. The Cheezit King. “Eat it anyway,” I ordered. “Or I’ll make you one other. ” I waited until he’d comprehensive consuming, then set out to enterprise. “I don’t recognize if you’re conscious of it, however the police imagine Becky Kopek killed your spouse.