Readers of Death Unscripted, the first book in the Trudy Genova Manhattan Mystery series, will find the same pleasures in this sequel: fast pacing, engaging characters, twists and turns on the way to a satisfying close. From the award-winning author of The Nora Tierney English Mysteries, this second series is a winner. Once again M.K. Graff reveals her talents in crafting this delightful mix of amateur sleuth and police procedural.
A cluster of people stood around an actress in a filmy white wedding dress standing near one of the tall windows. From Trudy’s description, he thought the man who fussed with arranging the back of the gauzy gown must be the costume designer, Rashid Something. Troy Benedict, dressed in tuxedo pants with his shirt hanging open, stood off to one side, tapping his fingers on the top of the grand piano. Meg approached him with a handful of shirt studs and a bow tie.
Afternoon sun cast muted fingers of light into the room, where three still photographers ringed around the woman, snapping away as of Phin Hill-Yorke directed. Egan and another man Ned knew to be Perry King stood on the other side of the room, hovering. Ned had seen the salt-and-pepper-haired King on his popular morning show, and was surprised by how much shorter he looked in person. But then Monica was petite, like Trudy, and King would look taller on television next to her.
The director’s assistant stood off to one side, out of camera range, holding a bouquet of flowers. Ned approached China and asked if she’d seen Trudy Genova. The woman grinned widely.
“Yes, I’ve seen her, and so have you, detective.” China gestured toward the actress.
“I suppose that fall will do,” Phin said, appraising the bride. “Turn away from the window a bit, please,” she instructed, and the bride turned slightly.
Trudy! Ned watched her move and recognized her profile. She wore a wig of blonde curls and the front of her hair had been sprayed a lighter blonde.
“Give her the flowers, China,” Phin continued, and China handed the lavish bouquet to Trudy. “And toward me a bit more, please.”
The cameras whirred and clicked once Trudy accepted the bouquet and moved into place. She noticed Ned and a bright red flush spread up her neck and into her face.
“Stop snapping! Trudy, what the hell—” Phin remonstrated, and turned to look in the direction of Trudy’s focus. When she saw Ned, the director nodded sagely. “Ah, the penny drops.”