Heather Wells used to be a big singing star. Now she's an
assistant director at a residence hall. When she's not
dodging the crinkled brows and murmured, "Don't I know you
from somewhere"s, she's trying to put her life back
together after a much too public split from her boyfriend
and the end of a sensational career. Of course, there's
also that uncomfortable crush she has on her ex-boyfriend's
brother -- who's currently letting her stay at his place.
Heather's job takes a turn for the interesting when she
arrives at the dorm (excuse me, residence hall, as her boss
constantly corrects) to find fire engines and a dead
student in an elevator. The student was apparently trying
elevator surfing, something more daring kids like to do.
But the more she finds out about the dead student, the more
concerned she becomes that the death wasn't accidental.
And Heather, being Heather, can't leave anything alone.
Badgering her current crush, Cooper, into helping out,
Heather investigates. She doesn't realize that doing so
could put her own life in danger.
There's a true Meg Cabot tone to this book -- which
makes it terrific. I like her lively writing style, the
witty characters and the occasional snatch of twisted
humor. (I mean, it's a little hard to get serious about the
death by elevator scenario...) I really enjoyed this book and
am sure anyone looking for some light, funny reading will
like it, too.
Or, at least, she did. That was before she left the pop-
idol life behind after she gained a dress size or two --
and lost a boyfriend, a recording contract, and her life
savings (when Mom took the money and ran off to
Argentina). Now that the glamour and glory days of endless
mall appearances are in the past, Heather's perfectly
happy with her new size 12 shape (the average for the
American woman!) and her new job as an assistant dorm
director at one of New York's top colleges. That is, until
the dead body of a female student from Heather's residence
hall is discovered at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
The cops and the college president are ready to chalk the
death off as an accident, the result of reckless youthful
mischief. But Heather knows teenage girls . . . and girls
do not elevator surf. Yet no one wants to listen -- not
the police, her colleagues, or the P.I. who owns the
brownstone where she lives -- even when more students
start turning up dead in equally ordinary and subtly
sinister ways. So Heather makes the decision to take on
yet another new career: as spunky girl detective!
But her new job comes with few benefits, no cheering
crowds, and lots of liabilities, some of them potentially
fatal. And nothing ticks off a killer more than a portly
ex-pop star who's sticking her nose where it doesn't
belong . . .
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