Death by Chopsticks: Cheongsam Fashion Mysteries

By Carly Carter

Bloody pearls, a high society corpse, and chopsticks don’t usually go together. Harpeth Hollow’s, own vintage loving sleuth, Joy-Li Judson, is confidently on the case. When one of her personal shopping customers from Franklin’s Department Store is discovered murdered, Joy-Li springs into action.

Lesley Jane Cranemoore’s body is discovered on the eve of one of her posh, charity, pool parties. Tonight’s party is to benefit an international Chinese adoption agency. The wealthy Mrs. Cranemoore gives generously to local charities and is loved by many. Who could have wanted to kill her? Her husband? Her visiting cousin? Joy-Li’s boss, Ginny Whinehart? A member of the Cranemoore staff? Or was the murder a horrific random act?

Meet Joy-Li Judson, personal shopper and vintage lover, in the first in The Cheongsam Fashion Mystery Series. It’s where murder, vintage, fashion, and Chinese food and culture combine.

Joy-Li Judson is a vintage obsessed fashion blogger, and crime solving sleuth. She’s a Chinese-American with a Middle Tennessee accent. She has a day job as a personal shopper for a fancy department store. Our girl is unafraid of couture, obsessed with thrifting vintage and, is confident in the face of danger. Joy-Li Judson never turns her back on a good sale or a good murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781941543009

Book preview

Twelve

Chapter One

Are blood, pearls, and chopsticks are a fashionable combination? I’m confident they are not. They simply do not go together. It’s a fashion faux pas. Especially if the pearls are generations old. Especially if the pearls are three strands held together by a diamond broche. Especially if the chopsticks are sterling silver and engraved with the message To R., love L.J.C.

How could pearls and chopsticks coated in high society blood ever coordinate? Although I am loving the Burberry dress and shoes Lesley Jane Cranemoore was wearing when her body was discovered. Definitely fashionable. Even in death Mrs. Cranemoore still looks as if she slid off the pages of Vogue. It’s hard to look fashionable when you’ve just been murdered.

Lesley Jane Cranemoore is always- always-fashionable. She is occasionally fashionably late for a personal shopping appointment with me. Today Lesley Jane Cranemoore is more dead body than Harpeth Hollow, Tennessee, fashion diva.

(I’m Joy-Li Judson, Personal Shopper Extraordinaire by the way. I’m a vintage loving, Chinese-American girl with a middle Tennessee accent. I’m not one to walk away from a good sale or a good murder.)

Death becomes her. And I respect that. Mrs. Cranemoore looks good in death. Got to love that about a woman- no matter how demanding and difficult she is.

What I have never loved about Lesley Jane Cranemoore is how she treats treated me. I felt, I, her personal shopper, the person who has seen her in her underwear more times than her husband probably has, am merely one notch above her new Hoover vacuum.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter what a customer says to me. I will react and respond professionally no matter what. It does of course matter. It matters a great deal. It certainly does to me. I take great pride in treating everyone fairly and with kindness. Not everyone shares this attitude though. That’s ok, I guess. People who are helping me, people who are providing a service, get and extra umpf of kindness. I make sure I say my please and thank you’s and tip generously.

Lesley Jane Cranemoore thinks differently. She’s the type of woman who appreciates a curtsy. Preferably a deep one. It’s not that Lesley Jane Cranemoore is a bad person, you understand. She is extremely charity minded-and I value that. The Cranemoore’s are well known in Harpeth Hollow for their generosity. The wealthy couple think nothing of dropping large amounts of cash whenever asked for a contribution. That’s a lovely quality.

She does seem to struggle in relating to those who work for her. I remember that awkward moment on our first personal shopping appointment. She was so pleased. Pleased with her new clothes. Pleased with her new handbag and two pair of shoes. She was so pleased an onlooker would have thought she organized the purchases herself.

Another customer complimented her on the rack of new designer dresses, suits, and blouses. Lesley Jane Cranemoore merely smiled and said Yes, I’ve done well today. That’s it. No mention of me, hard- working, long suffering personal shopper. Yes, of course. Mrs. Cranemoore spent three and a half hours pulling clothes. Of course she did. No one else did anything.

That was the moment I became a Hoover. I am necessary, but not full human.

Never mind. Choose the best, release the rest. Drive on. Don’t take it personally. Someone else’s behavior is none of my business.

Her body was discovered by Ted Taupin. Ted is the Cranemoore’s neighbor. He regularly uses the easement between their homes to walk his dog. Lesley Jane mentioned her frustration at the easement on her property to me. It leaves us so exposed. Because clearly people who want to use the cut through from the neighborhood to the city park behind the subdivision want to spy on the Cranemoores.

Lesley Jane is a bit delusional when it comes to her level of popularity. She and Rupert made a big fuss at the township meeting to move the walking easement away from their property. Not that it did any good. What a ridiculous request.

Lesley Jane Cranemoore needs control. The township refused to give it to her.

Ted Taupin and his dog, Lazer, have quite the constitutional. Sometimes Lazer finds a kill. Today it was Ted’s turn. Come on, boy. Let’s go, Lazer. We’ll find you a squirrel to chase. Just keep your paws off the Cranemoore’s yard. I don’t want that woman yelling at us.

Ted sees Lesley Jane crumpled on the patio. It is highly irregular for a well to do woman to be caught in a crumple. A prerequisite of most expensive finishing schools is how to do a ladylike faint. Today’s find on walk is most unusual indeed.

Possible accident? Did she trip? Did she hit her head? He never once thought Lesley Jane Cranemoore, wealthy, blue-blood, fashion goddess was lying on her patio dead. Much less dead from two large puncture wounds in her neck. The sight of blood dripping down her neck onto her prized pearls is one never to be forgotten. And why is she clutching what appear to be chopsticks? Could those puncture wounds have been self-inflicted? Who commits suicide with chopsticks?

The Cranemoore’s large patio is set for what is obviously an Asian themed party. Lesley Jane loves parties. Her parties in particular top the Harpeth Hollow social chart. This one is for a charity. The events are often parties with a purpose. Not uncommon for a celebrity for two to show up either. The posh supporting the posh.

This weekend’s party is no different. The Chinese decorations are everywhere. Traditional red and black colors for the hanging lanterns, table cloths, napkins, and dinnerware adorn the tables and hang from the well- manicured trees. Red and black Chinese character confetti is artfully strewn about any and all flat surfaces. In between the pillars of the Cranemoore’s pool house hang three massive red and black banners. Each one carries a unique message written in beautiful Chinese script. They read, the first: wealth, the second: happiness, and the third: longevity.

Ironic.

Well, two out of three. Not bad. Unfortunately, only wealth remains a reality. The other two wishes are not even a floating hope.

The Golden Lotus Adoption Agency is the proud beneficiary of the Cranemoore’s generosity. This is an orphanage adoption agency that specializes in Chinese to American adoptions. The backyard fundraiser is expected to raise over $100,000. The money goes to helping defray the exorbitant costs of international adoption. The parents not only deal with the emotional side of adoption (and often years of infertility) but must also raise thousands of dollars to cover adoption fees and air- fare. Flying to an orphanage in China is expensive.

Plus, there’s the usual cost of a baby nursery and all its trappings.

International adoption is expensive. But a baby is a baby.

Tell me again, Mr. Taupin. Where were you when you first spotted the body? said Detective Stan Chesterton. Detective Chesterton is a 38 year- old divorcee assigned to the case. He is not a fan of the wealthy. He believes the wealthy- especially the uber wealthy- are masters at covering up secrets. You can call him a jaded cop. He’s often a bit brusque. Detective Stan Chesterton is something else: he’s the best cop in Harpeth Hollow.

Right over there. He points toward the easement pathway. Lazer and I were walking along on the pass through. I’ve learned to be very friendly and smile and wave whenever I see Lesley Jane. She’s determined to take away the shortcut. That will make our walks longer.

I’m sure Lazer would actually enjoy a longer walk, said Detective Chesterton.

Yes. But I would not. Anyway, we were standing next to that giant Buddha statue when I saw her on the ground. She looks like she does now. Really detective can’t you cover up the poor woman? Ted reaches down and pets Lazer’s head.

Yes. We will be removing the body when the crime scene is complete. Continue please. What happened next?

"I called out to her. But she didn’t answer. Lazer and I ran over to her. I touched Lesley Jane’s left wrist. There was no pulse. She was cold. That’s when I called the police. The first officers were here in a matter of minutes.

I called out for help. Thinking the Cranemoore’s always have staff around. In fact, I thought I saw someone in a grey work shirt out front. I yelled again. No one answered though. It appears it is the staff’s day off. I don’t know where her husband Rupert is. Have you reached him? Poor man. Her hardworking husband is at his office I guess. That’s what I love about retirement. It’s an endless day off, said Ted.

Yes. Long time till my retirement I’m afraid. Thank you, Mr. Taupin. If you can think of anything else here’s my card. Please call or email. You’re free to go. Thank you. Detective Chesterton turns around to look at the crime scene one last time.

Let’s pause and review.

We have one dead aristocrat. Death caused by two stab wounds to the throat. Possible weapon? The sterling silver chopsticks the victim is clutching. They would be much bloodier actually if they were the murder weapon. So ruling them out as the instrument of death. Looks like the red stuff on the fancy chopsticks is one of the dipping sauces.

The holes in Lesley Jane Cranemoore’s neck appear at first glance to be evenly spaced and quite deep. More fork like than anything. Detective Chesterton notices a BBQ grilling fork eight feet away from the body in the yard.

Looks like we’ve got our murder weapon. Peterson, go take care of that, Chesterton returns his gaze to the deceased. The amount of blood is unusual for puncture wounds. Obviously, the killer used great force. Clearly the BBQ fork struck an artery.

Too bad about all that blood on the pearl and diamond necklace. Too bad indeed.

The officer bags and tags the grilling fork as evidence. Sir, what was that about someone in a gray shirt?

Yes, I thought that interesting as well. And where are the staff? And the catering crew? Any luck in finding the husband? said Detective Chesterton.

Not yet. Still working on it. Also trying to find next of kin. Perhaps a sister? Brother? Cousin? I’ll keep on it sir, said the policeman.

Working in Franklin’s Department Store is a dream job. And being a personal shopper in Tennessee’s largest chain department store is hands down the most fun of all jobs in the store. I am the stylist for the common woman. I dress people for everyday and special occasions, not the runway or some hyped up photo shoot. Plus it’s fun to shop for others.

Personally I love looking good. And I don’t mind doing the heavy lifting of moving clothes about. Really I don’t . What I do mind though is my boss. The overbearing, obnoxious, self –absorbed, it’s all about me, Ginny Whinehart.

Her name suits her. She may be head personal shopper. And the head of all of Franklin’s personal shoppers statewide. But her personality is abrasive. Think fingernails on a chalkboard. Or sandpaper on sunburnt skin. So annoying it demands your attention.

That’s Ginny Whinehart. Fashion makes her blood race. And she weeps with joy at the new arrivals. I’ll give her that. She’s passionate about her work. And she’s obsessed with making sure she gets the bulk of the high end clients. She’s not one to play fair.

Since we don’t work on commission at Franklin’s, it took me a while to understand why she would RARELY let Ed Rigsby (my adored co-worker) or I have an upper crust client. I blend into their world. They invite me to their parties. We mesh. I think she’s on a wealthy husband search. But whatever the reason Ed and I have to work four times as hard to build rapport with some of her blue blood clients.

Every day at work is a pleasure. When it’s Ginny’s day off.

To be successful in fashion as a personal shopper, you must have impeccable taste and an understanding of what is appropriate. Being able to guide a client through what is body appropriate, age appropriate and occasion appropriate are key factors in a stylist’s success.

Clientele building is slow business. Trust is everything. You must tell the truth always. If the client and I both don’t like a look, we move on. Ginny functions with a price tag mentality. The higher the cost of a garment, the greater her determination to seal the deal. Pressure, manipulate, cajole, coax, white lie, grande lie, big whopper lies, all are in her daily work arsenal.

Today Lesley Jane Cranemoore is late for her appointment with Ginny. Ginny checks her watch. She knows I have a twenty minute rule, says Ginny as she types in Lesley Jane’s cell number. Hello, Lesley Jane. I’m looking forward to showing you that new Victoria Beckham. I’ve pulled 30 items for you. I KNOW you’re on your way. Ginny ends the call.

She’s not coming. She’s never late. Something must be wrong. Do you want us to rehang the clothes? I ask. I’m tired of Ginny and her selfish ways. She treats Lesley Jane Cranemoore like she’s an idiot. Which she certainly is not.

I’ve had the pleasure of helping her four times. We really hit it off. I mean, true, she treats me and everyone who works for her as if we are valuable Hoovers. But I got along well with her. I’ve long since learned not to take it personally if people don’t see your value. It’s not worth getting upset over. Ginny came down with the Noro virus poor thing (heaven at work). She was down for the count for fifteen delightful long days. I like Mrs. Cranemoore even if she is stuck in a bit of wardrobe rut and is resistant to dressing the best for her body. I say let the body dictate. A small shouldered woman with massive hips should not be rocking skinny jeans and a baby tee. Mrs. Cranemoore seemed to take great pride in pouring herself into the skinny jeans and letting her middle- age triceps flab wave like the stars and stripes. Her body looks great in A-line skirts and dresses. But she refuses to budge. The Lesley Jane look rules supreme.

I find you can be right. Or you can be a happy. I chose to let my client be happy. Ginny is FURIOUS at me when she found out l let Mrs. Cranemoore purchase three pairs of skinny jeans. As if a grown woman needs permission. Ridiculous.

Ginny switches on the TV in the break room and announces she is making a cappuccino. Naturally, no thought given if any of the rest of us need a caffeine fix. Being a Chinese-American I’m more of a tea drinker than a coffee connoisseur, but still. Wouldn’t it have been nice to be asked?

Sigh. Oh well.

I walk into the break room to fix Ed, myself, and Mrs. Jan O’Brien (my client I’m helping at the moment) a cup of tea. Ginny’s pale and clammy. What’s this? Noro round two? (Sorry.) What’s wrong?

She points to the screen. That’s Lesley Jane Cranemoore’s house. News Two is saying she’s dead. Her cell phone is probably ringing with my call. All this time I wondered where she is and she’s been in that body bag. Only death prevented her from keeping that appointment with me. I should have guessed. My clients are the most devoted.

Wow. Me.Me.Me.Me.Me. I’d rather find out what happened to Mrs. Cranemoore. Cause of death not cause of appointment cancellation is more interesting.

I remember the last time she was in the store she mentioned a Chinese themed charity party. Benefiting an adoption orphanage I believe. For a woman who doesn’t have children Mrs. Cranemoore certainly has a heart for them. And all children too, no matter what the country of origin. She gives freely to children in distress. I notice the red and black Chinese banners tied to the large front gates. The party must have been tonight.

News Two is all over this story. Nothing like a bit of local drama for the airwaves. I continue to watch the telecast and see Detective Stan Chesterton walking around from the back of the house. He morphs into an angry Detective when the reporter starts yelling questions. Patience, Detective. Patience. Don’t tick off the press.

I’ve met Detective Chesterton before. This time last year actually. My Grandparents house was burglarized. Thank God no one was hurt. The intruder stole absolutely nothing. That’s what is so disturbing. Why break in my Grandparent’s house then?

Anyway, at the time it seemed as if Detective Chesterton wasn’t taking the case seriously. But he was very serious when he asked me for my phone number later during the investigation. Not appropriate. I am not a fan of men taking advantage in a situation like that. Here’s hoping he’ll handle Lesley Jane’s death with greater sensitivity.

The reporter just said possible murder and person of interest in a grey shirt. What’s that? Details please. A man or a woman? Big and burly or small and petite? How old? Running, walking, or driving?

I love a good mystery. Sad that it’s at the expense of a client. Especially a client I was in the process of rerouting to me. Not stealing the client. Welcoming her to the Joy-Li vintage friendly fashion world .

Detective Chesterton is refusing to answer the poor girl’s questions. So gruff and grumpy. Loving the journalist’s military inspired jacket. I like that it’s in brown. A bit different than the usual black or navy.

Well, I guess that’s all they’re going to say about it today. We’ll have to check in tomorrow, said Ed. He sips his espresso. Lesley Jane Cranemoore’s cousin is my current appointment. Her name is Alexandra Hill.

Ed’s voice drops to a whisper. "She’s been

Reviews for Death by Chopsticks

[holihanes · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good plot and characters but tends to lose focus on the story line.