
Every year, a hip-shaking herd of Elvis impersonators
descends upon the King's birthplace of Tupelo, Mississippi,
for the annual Elvis festival. Usually the main attractions
are lot of sequined jumpsuits and even more off-key singing,
but this year something much more deadly has the town all
shook up… When the first Elvis impersonator is found
slumped over his piano, a heart attack seems the likely
suspect. But when a second keels over mid-swagger at Callie
Valentine Jones's party, suspicious minds begin to wonder if
something foul is afoot. Because everyone knows two dead
Elvis impersonators add up to only one thing: murder.
As it turns out, Callie's cousin Lovie-a 190-pound
bombshell who's had more lovers than the King had hit
records-turns out to be suspect #1. Callie knows she's
innocent but to prove it, she and Lovie will have to find
out who the real killer is. Could it be Texas Elvis, who's
sworn to out-swivel his rivals? Maybe the female Elvis from
Australia, with the fake sideburns? Or one of the endlessly
bickering officers of the fan club? It's a mystery
fit for a King, and with a little help from Callie's
hunk-a-burnin' love ex Jack, and her talented hound dog
Elvis-who's convinced he's the true reincarnation of the
King-Callie and Lovie are determined to have the killer
singing Jailhouse Rock. But they need to move fast and be
ready for the killer's next move, because their chance may
be now…or never!
Excerpt Elvis Opinion #1 on Impersonators, the Valentine
Family, and Fried Pigskins
If you ask me, all these impersonators running around
Tupelo in sequined jumpsuits could use remedial voice
lessons. Nobody can hold a candle to the King. That would
be me, though these days I could pass through a crowd
unnoticed if it weren’t for my pink bow tie. I also wanted
to wear my black pompadour to the Elvis Festival, but
Callie (my human mom) said basset hounds look silly in
toupees. What does she know? Don’t get me wrong. She’s the
best human mom a dog could have, but she can’t even keep
her own life straight, much less mine. If she’d seek my
sage advice, I’d tell her to stop trying to take care of
the world (and that includes picking up stray dogs and cats
as well as loaning money to everybody with a sob story who
walks into her beauty shop). Mostly, though I’d tell her to
stop divorce proceedings. If any two people belong together, it’s Callie and
Jack (my human daddy). She says they split over his Harley
Screamin’ Eagle, but I know better. They split because she
wants a family and he’s worried about having children and
then getting shot and leaving them fatherless. Of course, he’s never told Callie the truth because
he’s never even told her about his real profession – and if
I told you, I’d have to kill you. Suffice it to say, Jack
Jones makes Rambo look timid. Callie and Jack are at an impasse and “All Shook Up.”
At the rate things are going, it looks like I’ll be punted
between them for the next three years. Like a pigskin. Speaking of which, I think I’ll mosey on over to the
refreshment booth and see what’s cooking. Fried pigskins,
for one thing. Lovie’s in charge. She shares my opinion
that the body ought to be primed with sugar and fat...
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 Southern Cousins
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