A KILLER BACHELOR PARTYCarnegie Kincaid plans weddings, not stag parties. When a client asks Carnegie to manage a pre-wedding blow-out-complete with a stripper-she tactfully refuses the job. So why is Carnegie peering through binoculars across the Seattle Ship Canal, watching a shapely Santa Claus turn naked inside a hip dockside bistro Because her own significant other-with whom she is having some significant differences-is at the party too. And, so it turns out, is a killer. When the body of the groom's best man is pulled from the canal the next day, critical questions arise. What did Carnegie really see through her binoculars More important: What will she tell the police she saw As a wedding planner, Carnegie has her connections to maintain, and before she points Seattle's finest to some possibly innocent suspects, she'll look into the crime herself. But while Carnegie is snooping around, word of a witness has gotten out-and now a killer is watching her...May the Best Man Die
A bubbly blend of farcical humor and madcap mystery, Donnelly's newest (after Died to Match) finds Seattle wedding planner Carnegie Kincaid in the midst of chaos once again. After being exiled from her dry-rotted houseboat, Carnegie's life plummets from bad to worse when her business partner mysteriously departs, her best friend stops speaking to her and her boyfriend tells her he's married. Her professional life peaks and dives as well, one of the low points being when a flamboyant Frenchman humiliates her on live TV while luring her customers away. Then, to make matters worse, the best man in her latest wedding turns up dead, transforming a cushy assignment to plan a celebrity wedding into a race to catch a killer before he/she picks off the rest of the bridal party. Many of the characters that have made Donnelly's Wedding Planner series so endearing are absent here-no Boris the Mad Russian Florist or Juice, cake creator extraordinaire. But the book's nonstop action and judiciously doled out clues will keep both romance and mystery lovers riveted until the Dickensian denouement. (Oct.) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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December 31, 2002
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Excerpt from May the Best Man Die by Deborah Donnelly
I don't do bachelor parties.
Wait, that sounds like I jump naked out of cakes. And who makes cakes that tall and skinny What I mean is, I don't plan bachelor parties. Weddings, yes. Rehearsal dinners, of course. Bridesmaids' luncheons, engagement cocktail parties, even the occasional charity gala, when business is slow.
The business in question is "Made in Heaven Wedding Design, Carnegie Kincaid, Proprietor." I've got a pretty decent clientele in Seattle by now, and sometimes I accept non-nuptial referrals. But I don't do bachelor parties, for two very good reasons.
First off, I resent the symbolism, the whole bit about the doomed groom's last spasm of freedom before he turns himself in at the matrimonial slammer. I'm in favor of matrimony, after all. I might even try it myself someday. But that's another story.
The second and more compelling reason is that no event planner in her right mind will touch a party where the guests are hell-bent on drinking themselves into oblivion, and behaving as poorly as possible en route. The potential for disaster is huge.
So why, at ten p.m. on the twelfth of December, was I standing out in the freezing night wind, hammering on a locked door behind which lurked a gang of undoubtedly drunken bachelors
Because of Sally "Bridezilla" Tyler.
I had inherited Sally's New Year's Eve wedding from Dorothy Fenner, my longtime, more-or-less friendly competitor in the Seattle bride biz, when Dorothy's fuddy-duddy husband purchased two tickets on a world cruise and a prescription for Viagra. I appreciated her vote of confidence--let's face it, I desperately needed the revenue--but it was turning out to be hard-earned. This particular bride, besides being lovely and wealthy, was a control freak of the first order.
Most brides are content to let the best man handle the bachelor party, but not Sally Tyler, oohh no. She supposedly wanted me to plan this one so that my valuable services could be her wedding gift to Frank Sanjek, her devoted (not to say besotted) fiance. But I saw through that little fiction.