Too Pretty to Die by Susan McBride
By Susan McBride
They name them ''pretty parties,'' and they are the newest rage between Dallas debutantesвЂ”get-togethers with gentle refreshments, heavy gossip, and Dr. Sonja Madhavi and her magic Botox needles. Former socialite Andy Kendricks regularly would not be stuck lifeless at such an occasion, yet she's attending as a choose to her pal Janet, a society reporter looking for a juicy tale. And boy does she locate one while getting older good looks queen Miranda DuBois bursts into the roomвЂ”drunk, disorderly, and packing a pistol.
Miranda's wrinkles have noticeable greater days, and he or she blames all of it on Dr. Madhavi. fortunately, Andy calms her down and will get her domestic to mattress . . . the place she's came across useless the following morning. The police suspect suicide, yet Andy is aware that no former festival woman may quit that simply. She's made up our minds to discover Miranda's killer herself, yet she'll must be cautious. finally, Botox could make you glance more youthful, however it cannot deliver you again from the grave.
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Even less these days with global warming threatening to drag our Indian summers into winter. The joggers and dog walkers were out in full force, and all seemed rather ordinary for a typical Saturday morning. And that was fine with me. I had enough craziness in my life to appreciate the quiet when I could find it, which was never enough. Maybe it just had to do with getting older, but I dwelled less on grandiose dreams and more on the here and now: on the people I loved who loved me back, on doing what made me happy.
I don’t want to contaminate the, um, scene,” I told her, because I didn’t have plastic booties on over my sneakers . . and I didn’t want to squish through anything that shouldn’t be squished. She almost smiled at me. “You’ll be fine. We’ll keep our distance,” she said, and I wasn’t sure yet what we’d be keeping our distance from. Whatever it was, I felt very uneasy. I still hadn’t glimpsed Miranda. And no one seemed willing to tell me if she was okay or not. My daddy had always told me not to jump ahead of myself, so I was trying hard not to; but I couldn’t help but wonder.
E. to hightail it in as soon as he arrives,” the deputy chief said, rather than answer my question. Her subordinate nodded, giving a crisp, “Yes, ma’am,” before heading toward the street to scout for the medical examiner’s van. “You, Ms. Kendricks, follow me,” Anna Dean said, in the same tone of voice my mother used when she meant serious business. Could you blame me for dragging my heels? “I don’t want to contaminate the, um, scene,” I told her, because I didn’t have plastic booties on over my sneakers .