A Body to Die For

Visiting the Cedar Creek Inn, owned by a longtime friend of her mothers, Bailey is ostensibly reestablishing old ties. But she is also checking up on moms friend Danny and her new husband. And it is the perfect getaway from the morbid thoughts of a broken romance Bailey is trying to forget.

Within hours of her arrival, Bailey stumbles across a murder victim in the Cedar Creek spa, who turns out to have been one of the masseuses. The body is tightly wrapped in Mylar, then secured with duct tape. Like a young "Sue Grafton" without P.I. license, Baileys sleuthing is amateur but well intentioned. Of course, it doesnt hurt that the homicide detective attached to the case is devastatingly handsome. Caught between her immediate physical attraction to the detective and the loss of her recent boyfriend, Bailey indulges in some romantic flights of fancy. Meanwhile she uncovers motives that invariably put her in the wrong place at the wrong time, consequently, face to face with a murderer.

A Body to Die For is "mystery lite", perfect for a few hours of escapism. White knows her demographic and writes directly to her target audience. With cheerful abandon, the author sends Bailey Weggins plummeting into the middle of a murder mystery made to order for fans of the intrepid young journalist. Luan Gaines/2003.

In the true spirit of nosy writers who interfere with police work, Bailey begins interviewing reluctant spa employees and other bystanders, and following up on clues. At the same time, Bailey is managing her conflicted romantic life, finding herself interested in both a boyfriend from the past and one of the policemen involved in the murder case.

Kate Whites writing style is breezy and not unlike that of the fashion / beauty magazine Ms. White edits. The phrasing is awkward or blunt at times, and Bailey frequently acts like too much of a neophyte for her crime writing background. However, A Body to Die For is a swift paced read perfect for lazy summer afternoons.

As someone who grew up in Berkshire County, Im one of the backwoods "locals" White pokes fun at in this book. I can tell you that youre less likely to find a mullet, a plaid sportsjacket, or a tie "as wide as a lobster bib" in Berkshire County than you are in one of the five boroughs. And New Yorkers come to the Berkshires for our world-class cuisine (check out what Wine Spectator says about Wheatleigh, for example), but poor Bailey cant find anything more sophisticated than pot roast or roast chicken.

The other thing you wont find in the Berkshires is Warren, MA. There is such a town, but its about 60 miles east of Berkshire County. When I saw that the Cedar Inn was located in Warren, I thought, "Whew! I can enjoy this while being spared the condescending views of some Manhattanite who comes to the Berkshires to spend money but doesnt see a thing." But when Bailey goes back to New York, she starts telling people shed been/was returning to "The Berkshires." Look at a map, honey. (And while youre looking, check out New York state, too. The NYS Thruway stretches from the eastern border to Buffalo--it doesnt go to NYC.)

OK, these are just the picky objections of someone who doesnt like the way an condescending outsider fails to portray her where she lives. So hows the mystery? It adds two stars to the one-star portrayal of the setting. The Mylar-wrapped body was a nice touch that added interest and originality. While I enjoy Baileys breezy tone and her determination (and love her neighbor Landon, whos never in the books enough), the mystery does tend to drag on. I dont need to know what Bailey had for each and every meal, nor do I need to know each and every thought that passes through her head. While I enjoy red herrings and deadend clues, the sheer volume of Baileys thought processes gets a little overwhelming, and I find I can skip ahead and not miss anything. The book would be better if edited down by about a third. As it is, its as flabby as the thighs of some of the spas guests.

It also bugged me how the structure more or less followed the first book: Bailey finds a body; is asked by a friend-she-cant-refuse to investigate; gets spooked in the countryside; receives a threatening, wordless warning at her office; worries about her commitment-shy lover; and finally "solves" the mystery by stumbling across the real killer, who intends to harm her. Oh yeah, and somewhere in there she writes an article for a national magazine in about two seconds. Must be that Im just one of ignorant, rural Massachusetts hicks, but I cant figure out how a freelance writer can afford her own apartment in Greenwich Village, given how little work she does.