The last couple of Stella Harding books were a little off somehow, but this one is back (delightfully) to the Stella I know and love. Stella is a 50+ woman who owns the local sewing machine/quilting shop in Prosper, Missouri. At age 47 she picked up a frying pan and killed the abusive husband who'd been beating the tar out of her for 30 years. She was not charged with his death, as some people just need killin’.
After liberating herself, Stella took up a second job. If your boyfriend or husband beats on you or in any other way makes you sorry you were born, Stella will have a…discussion…with him. She is a lot fitter than she looks, thanks to baji quan and training she borrowed from the Marine Corp, and she owns a great many useful “tools” purchased from the local hardware and gun shops, as well as from a variety of online shops. If one visit from Stella doesn’t convince the “parolee” to act right, well, there are more permanent ways to discourage or dispose of men who just don’t know how to behave.
This time Stella and her assistant (and former client) Chrissy are trying to find out who killed a talent agent. More accurately, they are trying to prove that Divinity did NOT do it. Because although Divinity is a huge pain in the ass, and everyone dislikes her, Divinity needs to be able to attend a family wedding, or the bride is going to call things off. And Stella is devoted to Dotty, Divinity’s cousin and the nervous bride.
Stella and Chrissy are kicking ass and taking names. And running from the cops, using their feminine wiles on the cops and whatever groomsmen happen to be around, and basically doing whatever it takes to get Divinity to that wedding.
Here is a small discussion between Stella and Chrissy, when one has rescued the other from an attack during the rehearsal dinner:
Chrissy was standing next to the stalls with her arms up in the air, her wrists tied around the pole leading from the stall to the ceiling. She looked unharmed; the worst damage she has suffered was a mussed hairdo and a broken dress strap that trailed off her shoulder.
“What on earth!”
“You got your multitool with you?”
“Do I ever not?” Stella demanded, getting the lightweight little Leatherman Skeletool she carried for more formal events out of her evening bag. She used the carbon fiber blade to make quick work of the knots. “Shitty rope,” she added, testing the gauge of the nylon cord. “I wouldn’t tie up a dog with this. You would have got yourself out in no time. Where’d you call me from, anyway?”
“He dropped the rope out there. When he went to get it, he made a point of waving his gun around.”
“He had a gun?”
“Yeah, just some cheap-ass Diamondback .22. I don’t know if he even knew how to use it – he was wearing gloves, like gardening gloves? I don’t think he could have got off an accurate shot, but I called you instead of finding out. I don’t think it was exactly a brain surgeon who dragged me out of there.”
….
“Yeah, let’s think that through a minute, okay?” Stella said, tossing the rope into the trash. Even if she had the resources to investigate, the rope’s fibers probably wouldn’t reveal much other than it was made in bulk in some developing country. Besides, Stella’s investigative techniques had never been the sort to rely on technical details. “My friend’s cousin’s child’s fiancé gets killed. We have never even met the man face-to-face, but we go hunting down the killer so Dotty can get married.”
“Pretty thin motivation, you ask me,” Chrissy grumbled.
“Yeah, well, it ain’t our motivation we’re trying to figure out there. Now the murderer stands to lose if we find him, obviously”
“Yeah, I’ll be mighty pissed off at him for wasting my time AND making me miss the chocolate fountain.”
Start the series from the beginning to enjoy all of Stella's adventures.