Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore

By Rose Pressey

This looks like a job for the fashion police!

A hot-ticket charity fashion show is the perfect chance for Cookie Chanel, proud owner of It's Vintage Y'All, to show off her stylistic savvy for a good cause. But when a famous fashionista is fatally flattened, and the ghost of a former private investigator asks for Cookie's help, she has to scurry to sew up a solution. With clever clues from Wind Song, her psychic cat, and sassy suggestions from Charlotte, her ghost-in-residence, Cookie must unravel the sinister stitches of a deadly design--before she becomes the next fashion victim...

Don't miss Cookie Chanel's Fashion Tips

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kensington Books
• Release date: Nov 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781617732546

Rose Pressey

Rose Pressey is a USA Today bestselling author. She enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. The paranormal has always captured her interest. The thought of finding answers to the unexplained fascinates her. When she’s not writing about werewolves, vampires, and every other supernatural creature, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties. Rose lives in the beautiful commonwealth of Kentucky with her husband, son, and three sassy Chihuahuas.

Book preview

life.

Chapter 1

Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Shopping Tip

Vintage designer handbags are some of

my favorite items to buy. Do your research

and beware of buying a fake bag.

Dresses were scattered about the floor. Stilettos were piled into a corner like a shoe mountain ready to topple at any moment. I’d never been behind the scenes of a fashion show, and the frantic pace was a little frightening. The behind-the-scenes footage I’d seen on TV had rows of clothing racks neatly organized by model, but this spectacle was as chaotic as a tornado. The models slipped into their outfits with ease, though, so the frenzy apparently didn’t affect them. I tried to stay out of the way, but the space backstage was cramped.

The show was being held in a nineteenth-century redbrick building that had originally been part of a college. It had also served as a hospital during the Civil War. Now the building was rented for various events. The changing area had been crammed into a small back room, so everyone was practically on top of each other.

My name is Cookie Chanel and I am a vintage-clothing connoisseur. I own It’s Vintage, Y’all boutique in Sugar Creek, Georgia. It was my job to make sure the models had a fabulous vintage accessory to go with their look. Picking out a 1960s red Pierre Balmain scarf, I tossed it to one of the models. She caught the scarf midair and in a fluid movement draped it around her neck in a dramatic fashion. Now the outfit was complete.

When I was a teenager, I’d thought about modeling, but I never had the grace. Plus, at five-foot-two, I wasn’t tall enough for the runway. That hadn’t stopped me from loving fashion. I put effort into every outfit I wore. Like today, my House of Gold sleeveless blouse was navy blue with white polka dots, and my fifties Pauline Trigère skirt was lipstick red with accordion-style pleats. I’d taken the time to style my dark hair into victory rolls too. Dressing the part was key to running a successful vintage-clothing shop. That and the fact that I loved all things vintage.

Melanie Lee was the fashion show director. She worked at the fashion design school in Atlanta. Melanie had designed the clothing that we would feature in today’s fashion show. I had been asked to pair vintage accessories with her new garments. That sounded like fun to me, so I had agreed. Melanie was running around backstage furiously trying to get everything in place and on time.

Where is the red dress? she yelled at no one in particular.

Melanie’s brown hair had started the day in an updo, but now the left side had fallen to her shoulder. The aqua-colored wrap dress she wore was one of her own designs.

I eased over to her as if she were a ferocious lion. Melanie, do you need my help, or should I go have a seat in the auditorium?

She whipped around with fire in her eyes. What do you want . . . oh, Cookie. No, I think we have it from here. Thank you.

Melanie turned around and stormed off. I had put all the vintage items with their coordinating outfits, so I guess there was nothing left for me to do. I felt as if I was just in the way in the confined space. One less body back there would be a good thing.

On the other side of the room, I spotted someone I knew. Actually, I’d only met her a couple times now. Brooke House had recently moved to town and opened a beauty salon around the corner from my shop. She was doing hair and makeup for the show today. Brooke had styled her own chestnut-colored hair in soft waves that fell to her shoulders. Strands of loose wisps pushed forward toward her heart-shaped face. She wore dark blue Hudson jeans on her slender frame and a wine-colored sleeveless Susana Monaco blouse.

Brooke must have felt my eyes on her. She glanced in my direction and frowned. After a couple of seconds she attempted a halfhearted smile. I gave her my best grin in return.

As I headed toward the door, a gorgeous brunette with delicate features stopped me. She wore a formfitting black with red polka-dot Christian Dior dress that I had provided for the show. I’d paired a vintage black motorcycle jacket with the dress to give the outfit an edge. Her ensemble looked great with the vintage that I’d provided, except for the fact that she wasn’t wearing shoes. Her hair was styled in a bob with loose curls falling gently next to her face.

I can’t find the shoes. Her voice was in panic mode.

What was I supposed to do?

Um, I don’t know where your shoes are.

Well, what am I supposed to do, go out there barefoot? She placed her hands on her hips.

Somehow I remembered this model’s name. I’d met a lot of models over the course of the past couple of days, but Hannah O’Neil stood out from the rest. Maybe it was because she yelled a lot and had been known to throw things at people. Like my grandfather would have said, she was as mean as a rattlesnake. I had a feeling if she had her shoes right now she would throw them at me.

A petite blonde stomped over to us with a pair of black stilettos in her hand. Here are the shoes. And remember to put them back in the bag and hang them with your outfit when the show is over.

The four-and-a-half-inch Jimmy Choo heels made me want to drool. Hannah snatched them from Meaghan’s hands, obviously not impressed by the gorgeous shoes. She was probably used to wearing stylish items like that.

It’s about time, Hannah exclaimed as she stormed off.

She has such a pleasant personality, don’t you think? Meaghan rolled her eyes.

She’s a real doll, I said.

Meaghan McKinney was Melanie Lee’s assistant. I didn’t envy her job. She worked under this kind of pressure all the time. Melanie was trying to make it big with her designs and that meant a lot of stress. I didn’t see why Melanie wouldn’t be successful because the items I’d seen so far were gorgeous. It didn’t look as if Meaghan had much time to decide on her outfit for the day. Her jeans were wrinkled and her plain white T-shirt was half tucked in. One of her sneakers’ laces was untied.

Sorry about that. She blew the bangs out of her eyes.

It’s okay. I guess you’re used to it by now.

I wouldn’t say used to it, but I’ve learned how to deal with it. I should have become a veterinarian like I’d first intended.

Meaghan! Melanie yelled from behind a rack of clothing.

I’d better go. She rushed off when Melanie yelled her name again.

I stepped out from backstage. A large crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the room. Swaths of white fabric were draped across the ceiling and pooled against the walls as if a dream of glitz and glamour. I hardly recognized the room. Before its makeover it had been nothing but beige walls and hardwood floor. I took a seat at the front of the stage.

With white folding chairs crammed into every available spot around the makeshift stage, the place was full to capacity. There must have been at least 300 people here. Needless to say, I was excited about the turnout. Being a part of the action had been thrilling and it would be fun to see the final outcome. I just hoped none of the models tripped while onstage.

A woman in her midthirties with short black hair sat next to me. She wore a formfitting red and white dress that hit just below the knees. I didn’t know the designer of the dress, but I recognized the woman from being backstage earlier in the day. I’d seen her leaving a red dress on one of the racks. Shandra Jordan also designed clothing, but I wasn’t sure if she had any pieces in today’s show. Casting a glance my way, she noticed me watching her.

Hello. Her clipped tone let me know she wondered why I was staring at her.

I’m excited for the show. Do you have clothing featured? I asked.

No, she said drily.

The music pumped a little too loudly from speakers behind the stage and the models streamed out one by one. I was happy to see that they had all worn my vintage pieces correctly. None of the items had gotten mixed up with the wrong outfits. Seeing my stuff onstage made me proud. After all, vintage was my life. My mother said I got my style and love of fashion from my grandmother. Granny Pearl had been the one who started calling me Cookie because the moniker fit so well with Chanel, that and she loved Coco Chanel. My given name is Cassandra, but everyone calls me Cookie.

Never had I thought that running a vintage-clothing shop would bring so much adventure into my life. Maybe I should have taken some time off after helping a movie company with their costumes, but I liked to keep busy, so I’d moved right on to another project.

The show passed quickly and everyone clapped as Melanie emerged onstage and took a bow. Shandra snorted. I looked over at her. A scowl covered her face as she stared at Melanie. At least I thought she was staring at her. I wondered what that was all about.

Now that the show had finished I had to get backstage and make sure all of the clothing items I’d brought were returned. The items were delicate because of their age and I wanted to make sure they weren’t tossed around too much. I liked to think of them as my babies.

After weaving through the crowd, I walked backstage. The models were feverishly removing the clothing and tossing the items onto the floor, changing into their own outfits. So far I hadn’t spotted Melanie or her assistant, Meaghan. I wanted to congratulate them on a job well done.

Has anyone seen Melanie? I asked.

Most of the models ignored me, then again it was noisy back there and maybe they hadn’t heard me. A couple of women nearby glanced at me and then whispered to each other.

I moved through the small space, zigzagging around the models.

Please return the vintage items to the rack by the door, I yelled so they would hear me.

Again they didn’t pay me any attention. I cringed at the way some of them were handling the clothing. I would thank Melanie and then hurry back in there to get my items before there was a disaster.

As I stepped out from the back space, a small equipment room was on one side of the hallway and on the other side a sound room. I checked both spaces but couldn’t find Melanie. At the end of the hall was an exit door. Maybe she’d stepped outside.

When I opened the door to the outside, I looked to my left and spotted Hannah. She was staring at the pavement. I followed her gaze and spotted Melanie facedown on the ground. Blood had pooled under her body. My stomach clenched and the smell of rotting trash from the nearby cans didn’t help. At that moment Hannah looked up at me. Her face was pale and haunted.

I think she’s dead, Hannah said.

Well, pick my peas, you’ve discovered another dead person. I knew it wouldn’t take long before Charlotte caught up with me.

The ghost of Charlotte Meadows typically stalked me everywhere I went. Today she had been suspiciously absent. Trouble followed her, though, and I figured at any minute I’d become aware of her presence. Now wasn’t exactly the best timing. I was a little occupied with my current project. I’d met Charlotte Meadows at her estate sale. She’d been murdered and demanded that I find her killer. Now she wouldn’t leave. Charlotte hadn’t been the only ghost I’d encountered either, but I hoped that now interacting with the spirit world was all behind me. Maybe Charlotte would eventually move into the next dimension. Around the same time a gorgeous long-haired white cat had found me. She was no ordinary feline though. Wind Song the cat had psychic abilities and used the Ouija board and tarot cards, but more about her later.

Chapter 2

Sam’s Surefire Sleuthing Pointer

Document evidence. You never know when

you might need it later.

Do you have a special talent for finding dead bodies? Kind of like a corpse radar? Charlotte asked.

You know that isn’t true, I said.

Actually, I don’t know. Aren’t you going to help the poor girl? Charlotte motioned toward Hannah.

I’d already dialed the police, so there wasn’t much that could be done. I eased over toward Hannah. When I neared, she finally looked over at me. I approached as if sneaking up on a scared cat. Now that I was standing next to her, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the building away from the body. Her body was rigid as she walked with me. There was no need for her to continue to stare at Melanie’s lifeless body. Nothing could be done for Melanie now. Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

I can’t believe she’s dead. How did this happen? Hannah whispered.

I noticed blood on Hannah’s hands. She spotted me looking at her and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

I had nothing to do with this, you know? she proclaimed.

Of course.

I wondered if she believed my response. I wasn’t even sure if I believed what she said. After all, it was her shoe by the body and she had blood all over her hands. How would she explain that?

As if she read my mind, she said, I was just trying to help her. That’s why I have blood on my hands.

The sirens were loud now and the swirling lights covered the area in a red and blue glow. Police officers surrounded the area.

You should know exactly what the procedure is by now, Charlotte quipped.

Sadly, Charlotte was right. I knew that we would have to give statements to the police, but I wasn’t positive that Hannah wouldn’t end up in handcuffs tonight. If what she said was true, then I felt bad for her, but if she really did have something to do with Melanie’s death, then that just made my skin crawl. Hannah seemed so sweet now in contrast to how she’d acted earlier, but that didn’t mean she was innocent by any means.

A dark-haired officer wearing the dark blue Sugar Creek Police Department uniform approached us. Can you tell me what happened?

Hannah remained silent with her arms wrapped around her waist as if shielding herself from the harsh reality of what had happened.

Finally, I said, Melanie was dead when I came outside. I believe Hannah found her. I pointed to Hannah.

She would probably be unhappy that I had told the officer that, but it was the only thing I could do. The officer pulled her to the side and she could no longer hide the blood on her hands.

Do you see him yet? Charlotte asked.

Do I see who? I asked.

She waved her finger in my direction. Don’t play dumb with me. Where’s the handsome and divine Detective Valentine? I know you’re looking for him.

Maybe I was looking for him, but the main reason was because I knew I would have to explain why I was at the scene of the crime. Well, maybe that wasn’t the main reason, but a very important reason nonetheless. I peered out over the darkness and then finally spotted Dylan Valentine. He was talking to another officer. He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked over at that moment.

This is quite a scene, a male voice said from behind me.

I jumped and spun around. A fiftysomething-year-old man stood beside me. He wore a gray pinstriped suit, white shirt with red tie, and black and white spectator shoes. His black hair was styled in a forties cut. I stared at him but didn’t speak.

Excuse me, ma’am. Where are my manners? My name is Samuel Sanders. How do you do? He smiled. I would offer my hand to shake, but . . .

Finally, I managed, Nice to meet you. I’m Cookie Chanel and this is Charlotte Meadows.

Charlotte studied her ruby red painted fingernails but didn’t look up at the dapper-looking man.

Are you an officer with the Sugar Creek Police Department? I asked.

Don’t you know that he’s a ghost? Charlotte asked without looking at us.

I studied the man closer, eyeing him up and down. He appeared very much alive to me, but then again, so did Charlotte.

Sadly, the pretty lady is correct. I am in fact a ghost. The man peered down at his white suede and black spectator shoes.

Charlotte instantly took an interest in Samuel when he mentioned her appearance. She was so predictable. Charlotte was a sucker for a compliment.

She moved closer to Samuel. So what brings you here, Mr. Sanders?

Charlotte may have batted her eyelashes at him.

That’s my hat. He pointed at the gray fedora near Melanie’s body, which was now covered by a white sheet.

I exchanged a look with Charlotte. She shrugged.

That’s your hat? I asked.

Yes, ma’am, he responded. And I need it back.

You can call me Cookie, I offered.

And you can call me Charlotte. She flashed a big smile his way.

I’d purchased the hat from an estate sale in Georgia. Apparently a bunch of people were very attached to their belongings. So much so that they didn’t want to leave them, not even in the afterlife. I couldn’t exactly go over and retrieve the hat for him.

I’m pretty sure the hat is now evidence. Sorry about that.

That’s understandable, he said. But you see, I never leave the hat.

Well, at least that meant he wouldn’t be hanging around. One ghost was more than enough for me. He could go to the police station and hang out in the evidence room.

He stuffed his hands into his slacks’ pockets. Oh well, maybe it was time for me to give up on the hat anyway. Hey, here’s an idea, I can just hang around with you. See, I don’t come into contact with people who can see me very often.

There were other people who could see him? Of course there were. Surely, I wasn’t the only person in the world capable of seeing spirits. Later when all this mess was settled I’d

Reviews for Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore

[kris_anderson-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore by Rose Pressey is the third book in A Haunted Vintage Mystery series. Cookie Chanel is providing vintage accessories to the Melanie Lee’s fashion show. Cookie figured it would be a good opportunity to showcase the items available in her store Vintage Y’all in Sugar Creek, Georgia. After the show Cookie is looking for Melanie. She goes out a door and finds Melanie on the ground. Hannah O’Neil a model is standing nearby. Then a ghost pops up next to Cookie. No, it is not Melanie. Sam Sanders is a ghost from the 40’s. He was a private investigator when he was alive. He is attached to the grey fedora (that Cookie bought at an estate sale) that is laying near Melanie’s body (which is now in police custody). Charlotte Meadows, the ghost that is already attached to Cookie, is thrilled to see Sam and starts flirting with him. Now Cookie has two ghosts to contend with. Hannah is arrested for the murder of Melanie despite her protests that she is innocent. Charlotte and Sam want Cookie to investigate the crime. Sam misses using his PI skills. So Cookie and her sidekicks set off to investigate the murder. Will Cookie be able to figure out who murdered Melanie in time to save Hannah? Can Cookie get back Sam’s hat so he can cross over? Cookie will have to solve the crime in between her dates with Detective Dylan Valentine and Ken Harrison (attorney), running her shop, taking care of her cat, Wind Song (who is psychic) and acquiring new items for Vintage Y’all. Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore is a humorous, paranormal mystery (and sometimes a little too silly). The book also contains Sam’s Sleuthing Tips and Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Clothing Shopping Tips. Some phrases are repeated too often throughout the book (like it is filler). At the end of the book, there are some unanswered questions (I wish I could tell you but they are spoilers). I also wondered why Cookie did not keep tarot cards or a Ouija board around since that is the only way her cat communicates (at least most of the time). She waits for her friend, Heather Sweet to bring them over from her shop. Wouldn’t someone that keeps asking the cat questions keep these items around? After a while you really start to wonder how Cookie makes any money with her shop. She seems to spend most of her time running around town leaving her store closed. When Cookie does have the store open, she seems to chase away her customers with her paranoid attitude. The author provides many possible killers, but the mystery is really very simple (and can be solved early in the book). I wish more of the book was given to the mystery. I give Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore 3 out of 5 stars (maybe I am too critical or overthinking it). We do get a preview of the next book in A Haunted Vintage Mystery series at the end of the novel.I received a complimentary copy of Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[laura6thomas-5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I’m always looking for a cozy mystery with a new theme. This is a new one for me.Cookie Chanel, owner of It’s Vintage Y’all was so excited when her vintage clothing was used for a major charity fashion show. She wasn’t so thrilled about stumbling over a dead body.And even less thrilled thrilled when sexy Detective Dylan Valentine arrives at the murder scene. She’d like to see more of him, preferably somewhere besides a back alley and dead body.Did I say she wasn’t thrilled? Well she still isn’t when Charlotte shows up and throws in her two cents. Charlotte is a ghost. Cookie met her when she was shopping at an estate sale. Charlotte’s estate sale. Now Charlotte is attached to her, living in her cottage, waking her up with her off key singing.It’s Charlotte who clues in Cookie to the fact that the gentleman she’s talking to, the one in the snappy vintage suit, is also a ghost.Just what Cookie needs. Another ghost following her around. That’s the way it’ll be though. Samuel Sanders, deceased and former gumshoe, won’t be going anywhere soon. The hat discovered at the murder scene is his and where the hat goes, he goes. So until the crime is solved and his hat is released from the chain of evidence, he’s now along for ride.When Charlotte and Samuel hit it off they join forces, using their ghostly wiles to get Cookie to investigate the murder. Should be fun, and the poor girl arrested for the murder surely didn’t do it. Now Charlotte will have to do some fancy styling of her own if she doesn’t want to join the ranks as a ghost.I quickly tagged these characters as the Three Musketeers. They all worked so good together, snoopin and sleuthin. And what could be better than a sidekick with some powers of it’s own. Enter, Wind Song, Cookie’s cat. The cat is psychic and uses Tarot cards and a Quija board to communicate. Now that’s different and fun.Each chapter starts with a tip from one of the characters. It was fun to see who would share what next. And the story takes place in Sugar Creek, Georgia. A southern cozy! The southern flavor leaks out in some funny ways. I snorted when I read this one.“Well, pick my peas!”Made me think of another one that always tickled me.“Bee on a bicycle.”A girl with a mind of her own and a nasty habit of finding dead bodies, two ghosts, kind of hot for each other and not ready to go into the light, a psychic cat, and a sexy cop, along with multiple suspects, keep you hopping from clue to clue, laughing all the way.Good clean fun for all cozy fans.

[carlathelibrarian · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Cassandra "Cookie" Chanel owns a vintage clothing store, "It's Vintage Y'all", in the small town of Sugar Creek, Georgia. She was thrilled to have her vintage clothing and accessories used for a major charity fashion show. Unfortunately for Cookie, at the end of the night as she is searching for all her items to pack up, she finds more than she bargained for. The designer of the show is dead in the alley out back with the heel from a stiletto used as the murder weapon. Hannah, one of the models in the show, is standing over the body with bloody hands and is arrested by Detective Dylan Valentine, a gentleman that Cookie is interested in.

When the police show up, so does Charlotte, the fashionista ghost that has attached herself to Cookie's life for some reason.(if you have not read the first book in the series, you might want to go back) Charlotte is not shy when it comes to putting in her two cents worth and there is quite a bit of humour in these exchanges, especially since Cookie can not always respond. There is also another gentleman who is dressed in a vintage suit that appears at the scene. Charlotte lets Cookie know that he is a ghost. It turns out that Sam, is a PI who was killed in the 1940s and the hat at the crime scene was his. Until he gets his hat back, he can not cross over. For some reason, neither Cookie nor Charlotte believe that Hannah is guilty and until the case is solved, the hat is evidence. When Charlotte and Samuel hit it off they join forces to get Cookie to investigate the murder. Once again Cookie sticks her nose into the business of others who do not want her interference. She gets more than one suspect upset with her.

I like the characters of Cookie, her quirky friend Heather,and Charlotte. Sam was not as involved as he could have been, but his tips and ideas were a hoot. It was obvious that he was not a very good PI during his lifetime. Their interactions are fun and rather humourous. With Windsong, the psychic cat helping to solve the mystery, you can't help but smile. Windsong's antics were a bit different in this book, as she was a bit more involved, but that added another dimension. I really hope that Cookie and Dylan will get together, but again in this book Ken, the lawyer who has eyes for Cookie pops up and takes her on a date. I still don't really like him and Cookie seems to like Dylan more so I hope that sorts our the love triangle. The mystery in the story was not as obvious this time around, but I still figured out the murderer early. It seems the interest of the reader is more peaked with trying to see how the mystery is solved and how much trouble Cookie gets into. This time around, she had some rather humorous episodes, while investigating. I recommend this book to cozy mystery lovers, it is a fun read.