What kind of interior decorator murders her new client, snuffing her out the way Othello snuffed Desdemona, only with a much more stylish tasseled throw-pillow, placed just so over the face, and without the poetry or the suicide afterwards? If a client hated your designs and kept going on and on about the “bad vibes” in the room, what would you do?
What else can Claire Holloway do but brick up the body in the back of the walk-in closet, then cover up those ugly bricks with a truly innovative new paint that emits healing aromatherapy scents? Will the smell of lemon verbena make up for any number of bad vibes, or will there be another murder? Where do these crazy clients come from, these empathic yahoos who care more about vibes than pink granite countertops? Are they from outer space or something? If Claire kills them all, will she save the world or end up redecorating Death Row…or both?
Would you read a 120,000-word literary paranormal mystery novel that grabs you as if you’d just got your sweatshirt hood stuck in a moving escalator and you’d have to get it off you fast if you didn’t want to choke to death like the Duchess of Malfi, though that was really murder, too, and not an accident like this would be if it were really happening? Would you believe I have a Masters in English Literature?
What’s the deal? Should I wait by the mailbox?