prunes and Wheaties in THE JOAN CRAWFORD MURDERS

A Story by Peter Joseph Swanson

an excerpt from my published paperback novel

“But Joan!”

“Sorry stud cakes, I'm just too busy today. But don't worry. I'm professional. I

have more costume fittings with Helen Rose.”

“But … ”

Joan hung up and headed for wardrobe. She brought the food.

“Yum,” Helen lied. “I don't think I'll ever get tired of prunes and Wheaties.”

“This is the last of it. So for the rest of the week, no breakfast for the ladies, that's the best diet anyway.” Joan looked at Helen's breasts in envy and wondered if they were real. She wanted to squeeze them to find out.

“Those prunes have certainly kept me skipping off to the powder room with montezuma's revenge,” Helen complained, and then fished for a confession out of Joan, “They say it's very dangerous to put rat poison on your food to make you lose weight. You would never do that, would you? I hope. No?”

Joan looked genuinely horrified. “Rat poison? Then it is true that Mae West eats rat poison to keep her waist like that! I heard that! But - it can't be true! How can she still be alive? Well, actually, these days we're not sure if she is still alive.

Must be the rat poison.”

Helen grinned with relief, since it seemed Joan hadn't put rat poison in the prunes - that they were just that caustic to her system all on their own.

Joan asked, “Are you sure my dance skirt isn’t going to be too stark?”

“Not when you flap it open and we see your long gorgeous legs. And there’s really a lot of heavy fabric under there, so it will all move gorgeously �" there’s just tons of fabric waiting to be tossed around by you.”

Joan frowned. “I suppose.”

After Joan had the sleeves adjusted on a gloriously yellow robe that promised to blind the Technicolor film stock, it was such a saturated hue, Joan quickly kissed a dodging Helen, then raced off to the bank and took out a loan for twenty five thousand in cash, putting it in two brand new pink travel suitcases. Her limo driver asked, “What's that? Cash?”

Joan fibbed, “Of course not. I start a picture soon and I took some jewelry out of the safe deposit box.”

“That's a lot of jewelry.”

“I'm Joan Crawford.”

Read the reviews and blurb at Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1600760775/ref=s9_simh_gw_p14_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=06S31Q35AE39EGJ301ZD&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846

© 2010 Peter Joseph Swanson

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Reviews

Edmund Jonah

I can review this only as it stands and not as part of a novel. To my ears the dailogue is a trifle forced and not quite believeable. Rat poison??? Then you have "Yum," she lied. This makes no sense. If she is lying, don't tell us, show us. Perhaps by the way she looks at the cereal.
Try cutting all the unnecessary adjectives (genuinely horrified) (gloriously yellow) (long, gorgeous legs - one of them will do). You tend to overuse gorgeous.
If you stop over-writing, you could be a good writer.