Jaine lives in Los Angeles and makes her living as a writer. She specializes in resumes and copywriting. Her latest customer, Howard, doesn't want a resume or an ad written. No, he wants a love letter, a letter persuasive enough to convince its recipient to go on a date with him.
Howard is no prize. He works in insurance and still lives with his mother. The woman he is crushing on is a beautiful aerobics instructor, Stacy. Jaine is no stranger to the LA scene and she is more than certain that Stacy is not going to date a man like poor Howard. So Jaine's letter to Stacy implies that Howard is related to Rupert Murdoch. And Howard gets his date!
But (of course there is a "but") when Howard arrives at the apartment to pick up his date, he finds Stacy dead, her head bashed in with a Thighmaster. And of course the police are sure he is the killer.
Jaine feels guilty that her letter may have gotten Howard into trouble. So she proceeds to do a little investigating on her own. She easily finds out that Stacy had several lovers, one of whom was married. Also, one of the women Stacy worked with was dumped for Stacy. And there's the woman who wanted the apartment that she was promised before Stacy stole it from her.
So there are plenty of suspects. But which one is the killer? Turns out the killer was right under Jaine's nose all along. And that Stacy was murdered for the most prosaic reason of all.
This was an OK read. Although I did guess the identity of the killer pretty quickly but not, I will admit, the reason why Stacy was killed.
The story is mildly amusing although I did find the main character's constant put downs of herself a bit tiring.
Review from Kirkus.
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