Synopsis

Death by Sample Size is a humorous cozy mystery that takes place in the Los Angeles garment center. The last thing Ditzy Swimwear sales exec Holly Schlivnik expected was to discover ruthless buying office big wig Bunny Frank’s corpse trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with a bikini stuffed down her throat. When Holly’s colleague is arrested for Bunny’s murder, the wise-cracking, irreverent amateur sleuth jumps into action to find the real murderer. Nothing turns out the way Holly thinks it will as she matches wits with a wily killer hellbent on revenge.

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Review

This is quite a fascinating new cozy series set in LA where it takes hours to get anywhere, even down the street, and is home to the swimsuit fashion industry portrayed in this book. The book is filled with wise-cracking characters who cracked me up at the craziest times and lost of humorous descriptions that will have you shaking your head in disbelief.

Holly discovers a dead body in the elevator and how does she react when confronted? She laughs. It is her defense mechanism and thankfully her friend, the coroner, can confirm that tidbit so they don’t think she is too crazy laughing at death. But from there it is a race for Holly to figure out who killed Bunny and why. It is a huge cast of characters because no one really likes Bunny, she is manipulative and devious, a good way to end up murdered.

The book does start off with Holly finding the body and then it goes back in time leading up to the murder so we can get a better picture of who Bunny is and why no one likes her. There are many suspicious characters and the author does a great job of throwing in red herrings to keep us guessing who the real killer is. I think I had narrowed it down to this character because none of the others seemed to fit in just right. I was quite surprised at the ending and the confrontation with the killer. Definitely not a traditional ending.

This is definitely a book worth picking up and I’ll be interested to see what shenanigans that Holly will be up to in the next book. We give this book 4 paws up.

Excerpt

When the elevator doors opened, I had to stop myself short not to step on her. There was Bunny Frank-the buying office big shot-lying diagonally across the car. Her legs were splayed out and her back was propped against the corner. Her sightless eyes were wide open and her arms reached out in a come-to-me baby pose. She was trussed up with shipping tape like a dressed Thanksgiving turkey ready for the oven with a bikini stuffed in her mouth. A Gotham Swimwear hangtag drooped off her lower lip like a toe tag gone lost. Naturally, I burst out laughing.

Before you label me incredibly weird or stone-cold, let me say genetics aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. If you’re lucky you inherit your Aunt Bertha’s sexy long legs or your father’s ability to add a bazillion dollar order in his head and get the total correct to the last penny. Without even breaking into a sweat, it’s easy to spout at least a million fabulous traits inheritable by the luck of the draw. Did I get those sexy long legs or the ability to add more than two plus two without a calculator? Noooooooooo. Lucky me. I inherited my Nana’s fear of death we overcompensated for with the nervous habit of laughing. A hysterical reaction? Think Bozo the clown eulogizing your favorite aunt.

I craned my neck like a tortoise and checked around. Then I clamped a fist over my mouth. Cripes, how could I possibly explain my guffaws with Bunny lying there? The disappointment was simultaneously mixed with relief when there was no one else in the parking lot. Where was security when you needed them?

I toed the elevator door open and bent over Bunny. I’d seen enough CSI episodes to know not to touch her. She was stiff as a board and I attributed the bluish tinge of her skin to the bikini crammed down her throat. I was no doctor, but I didn’t need an MD after my name to make this diagnosis. Bunny Frank was dead as the proverbial doorknob.

It was no surprise Bunny Frank had finally pushed someone beyond their limits. The only surprise was it had taken so long. The question wasn’t who wanted Bunny Frank dead. The question was who didn’t?

About the Author

Born in the Big Apple, Susie Black now calls sunny Southern California home. Like the protagonist in her Holly Swimsuit Mystery Series, Susie is a successful apparel sales executive. Susie began telling stories as soon as she learned to talk. Now she’s telling all the stories from her garment industry experiences in humorous mysteries.

She reads, writes, and speaks Spanish, albeit with an accent that sounds like Mildred from Michigan went on a Mexican vacation and is trying to fit in with the locals. Since life without pizza and ice cream as her core food groups wouldn’t be worth living, she’s a dedicated walker to keep her girlish figure. A voracious reader, she’s also an avid stamp collector. Susie lives with a highly intelligent man and has one incredibly brainy but smart-aleck adult son who inexplicably blames his sarcasm on an inherited genetic defect.

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