Death on the D-List (Hailey Dean Series #2)

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The brutal slayings of a string of her patients in New York and a horrific attempt on her own life leave Hailey Dean down, but not defeated. After a yearlong respite back home in the Southland, former violent crimes prosecutor Hailey Dean finally returns to her apartment in the sky overlooking Manhattan. Hailey’s determined to rebuild a normal life and settle back into her growing practice as a therapist. But in a twist of fate, Hailey agrees to follow her heart and fight crime once again, this time in a new ...

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Death on the D-List (Hailey Dean Series #2)

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Overview

The brutal slayings of a string of her patients in New York and a horrific attempt on her own life leave Hailey Dean down, but not defeated. After a yearlong respite back home in the Southland, former violent crimes prosecutor Hailey Dean finally returns to her apartment in the sky overlooking Manhattan. Hailey’s determined to rebuild a normal life and settle back into her growing practice as a therapist. But in a twist of fate, Hailey agrees to follow her heart and fight crime once again, this time in a new arena, in front of a camera! Under the hot lights of a TV studio, Hailey learns the TV industry’s not so glamorous. In fact, it’s downright deadly! Waning celebrities, all stunning actresses, each one a shining star turned has-been now struggling to get off the D-List and back into the limelight, meet with a bloody stage exit . . . murder! Hailey’s archenemy, Lieutenant Ethan Kolker, the NYPD cop who hunted Hailey down for the murders of her own patients, now wants the past forgotten and reaches out for Hailey’s help to solve the murders. In a race against the clock, Hailey has no idea that TV can be murder! In best-selling author, attorney, and TV personality Nancy Grace’s second Hailey Dean thriller, life on television is no less dangerous than life in the courtroom!

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Like Nancy Grace, her creator, Hailey Dean is a former violent crimes prosecutor who has become a TV journalist specializing in probing controversial homicides. Unlike Grace, however, Dean has also been called on to discover the culprit behind a growing heap of dead D-list celebrities. A neat follow-up to Court TV's Eleventh Victim debut.
Publishers Weekly
TV legal analyst Grace's second Hailey Dean thriller (after The Eleventh Victim) works as a zany yet dark satire of pop icon worship. Hailey, a past victim of violent crime, is working as a Manhattan psychologist when a serial killer begins shooting D-List celebrities who are on the verge of making a comeback in their careers, including a TV actress, a reality TV star, a fading film queen, and a singer. After a hit appearance on The Harry Todd Show as a crime expert, Hailey bumps the ratings so high that producer Sookie Downs and her booker, Tony Russo, want her to return as a regular. Hailey is drawn deeper into the shooting investigations by NYPD Lt. Ethan Kolker, who's also wooing her romantically. Grace adds some entertaining wackiness to standard thriller theatrics with some eccentric characters, most notably Francis Merle McGinnis, a goofy star stalker with a connection to the slain D-Listers. (Aug.)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781401323134
  • Publisher: Hyperion
  • Publication date: 8/10/2010
  • Series: Hailey Dean Series , #2
  • Pages: 281
  • Product dimensions: 9.76 (w) x 11.04 (h) x 0.94 (d)

Meet the Author

Nancy Grace joined Court TV from the Atlanta Fulton County District Attorney's Office where she served for a decade as Special Prosecutor, compiling a perfect record of nearly 100 felony convictions at trial and no losses. Nancy is currently the host of Closing Arguments on Court TV and substitute host of Larry King Live on CNN. She has appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show to discuss today's most important trials.

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First Chapter

DEATH ON THE D-LIST


By NANCY GRACE

HYPERION

Copyright © 2010 Toto Holdings, LLC
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4013-2313-4


Chapter One

THE FLIGHT UP FROM ATLANTA TO MANHATTAN HAD BEEN PRETTY painless. Of course, the security lines and hassle of traveling through the Atlanta airport were hell on earth, but that was a given.

Once Halley Dean stepped off the Delta 757 and onto the jetport connecting the plane to the terminal, suddenly so much came rushing back. It had been a little over a year, but walking through LaGuardia past Nathan's Famous hot dogs, the magazine and newspaper stands, down the escalator and to the taxi stand outdoors, it felt like she'd never left. It felt the same as before.

Before two of her favorite clients were murdered at the hands of a man who was once her courtroom adversary, a man who not only passed as an upstanding and highly successful member of the Georgia State Bar, but before that, as an Atlanta beat cop. For just a moment, Hailey felt Matt Leonard's hands around her neck again.

Hailey shook the sensation off and moved forward a couple of steps in the taxi line. After a few minutes, the next cabbie approached and she hopped in the back seat. Although brusque as expected, he hoisted her only bag into the car trunk, slammed it shut and slid into the driver's seat in front of her.

"Where to?" The cabbie didn't turn around, just directed the question toward the rearview mirror.

She'd learned long ago not to speak too many words to New York cab drivers. With what was left of her Southern accent after living in Manhattan, they could hardly understand a word she said.

"Fifty-fourth Street. Manhattan." She clipped it out short and firm. Less words to misunderstand. It all came back to her without even thinking. The cabbie said nothing, just gunned the motor as dirty-gray snow churned up from the tires and out to the sides of the car.

Hailey buckled her seatbelt and leaned back against the seat of the cab, looking out as Queens raced by outside her window. The row houses jammed together along short streets visible from the Long Island Expressway, diners, apartment buildings, billboards ... all blended together ... not particularly beautiful but strangely familiar and somehow reassuring despite the fact it wasn't really her home. The Southland was home and always would be. But New York was part of her now, and she didn't realize she missed it until she saw it and smelled it and breathed it again. In that very moment there in the back of the cab, she was glad to be back.

They exited the FDR just before the UN rose into view, turned right, and careened around the corner and lurched to a stop. Hailey gave the driver cash, declined a receipt and pulled her own bag out of the taxi's deep trunk. Hailey always traveled light, so it wasn't tough to yank it out and let it drop to the curb. She turned and looked all the way up to the top of her apartment building to where its roof met the sky. Way up there, thirty-one flights above, was Hailey's cottage in the sky.

Taking the steps up as quickly as she could while pulling the bag behind her, she wondered briefly if the flowers would start up again now that she was back in Manhattan. Ever since two of her patients were brutally strangled, followed by her own false arrest for the murders, the arresting officer, Lieutenant Ethan Kolker, had tried to make amends. As best he could, anyway.

It started small with the old standby, a dozen roses. When she'd promptly had the florist pick them up as a "return," another dozen came, and then, another. When those too were returned, more thought was put into the order. Kolker tried it all, violets, calla lilies, somehow even finding her favorites, stargazers and Cherokee roses. They too had gone straight back from whence they came, to the florist ... every last petal.

Although they were beautiful, flowers never impressed Hailey. In fact, flowers made her feel guilty, that such beautiful creations were cut and pulled from the fields (or hothouses) where they flourished, for the fleeting whims of a human. Hailey never responded verbally or in written form to the flowers from Kolker, nor did he ever include any written apology or explanation of his thoughts.

Then came the chocolates. A succession of treats, also including no communication of regret, sorrow or epiphany, arrived and were returned as well, this time directly to Kolker's precinct in downtown Manhattan ... no note attached.

Kolker could always tell the boxes had been opened, then carefully repacked and returned with no comment whatsoever, always returned in the boxes in which they'd been sent, a new mailing address placed directly over Hailey's own home address.

Sure enough, when Hailey pushed through the heavy glass revolving door into her building's lobby, Ricky the doorman came from around the front desk to give her a big hug.

"Where you been? I missed you! Way to keep in touch ... Not!" He ribbed her a tiny bit. Hailey had seen him graduate from college and doggedly follow his dream to become a sportscaster. She hugged him back tightly but before she could respond, he said, "And, hey! You've already got a package. Let me get it for you." He bounded back behind the front desk and into a storage area behind an open side door where the doormen stashed deliveries. This time it was a box, wrapped, as usual, in plain brown paper. One look at the handwriting and Hailey knew it was from Kolker.

"How'd he know I was coming back?"

"Who's he? The dentist again? He didn't give up yet?"

Ricky had no problem getting up in her business. He was referring to Adam Springhurst, the dentist who practiced in the office beneath Hailey's down in the Village. They'd had a fleeting relationship around the time of the murders, but it left Hailey with the feeling she was cheating on Will by even considering dating again. Her heart wasn't in it, and she disengaged as best she could, sure she came off as cold and uncaring. It was actually just the opposite: She couldn't afford to care. It could hurt too much.

In any event, because Hailey ended up applying Adam's dentist drill, whirring at full force, into the temple of the defense lawyer who'd stalked her and murdered her two friends, things between them had been on hold, for lack of a better term.

"No, not the dentist ... the cop."

"What cop? Not the one that arrested you? He's the only cop that's ever been here ..."

"That's the one. How did he know I was coming back?" she repeated the question.

His eyes got wide to display innocence. "I don't know ... It wasn't me! Ask the morning shift. You know how Julio is ... He'll tell anything for a hundred bucks!"

"Don't you worry, I'll do just that."

"Don't tell him I told you! Hey, you need help with that box? It's kind of big. Want me to carry it up?"

"No. Thanks, though, I can manage." Hailey glanced at the clock sitting on the counter of the front desk. "Wait, on second thought, let me just dump my bag here. I've got to get across town. I'll pick them both up tonight. You hold it for me? The box and the bag?"

"You got it, sunshine."

Hailey turned and headed back out. She hurried down the steps and up the sidewalk to First Avenue. Looking into oncoming traffic and holding her right arm up high, Hailey quickly hailed a cab. She slid into the back seat with nothing but her purse and her pad of handwritten notes.

"West Side, Sixth Avenue and 59th." Hailey rolled the window down to catch the breeze and the driver began inching through traffic across town to the West Side. All the television networks were there, HLN and CNN in the Time Warner Center looking down on Central Park and Columbus Circle. Fox there on the corner at Avenue of the Americas, with American flags flying out front, CBS, NBC, ABC ... They all made their homes here.

Hailey was glad she stopped at her apartment, vacant nearly a year now. But after the murders of Hayden and Melissa, not to mention her own near-strangulation, she needed to leave the city. She wanted to go home and see the red dirt, smell the azaleas' perfume in the air, feel the hot afternoons heavy with humidity, see her mother and father.

The apartment sat there during it all, quietly waiting for her to come back. She paid Ricky to water her plants and crack the windows an inch or two every couple of weeks. Her mail had all been forwarded to a post office box in Atlanta. Not that she ever read it. It was all bills and catalogues and flyers. She paid nearly all her bills online, and as for shopping, she'd rather be beaten with a stick than set foot in a shopping mall, much less spend her free time thumbing through a catalogue.

When she left the courtroom years before, the need for new business clothes to wear in front of juries no longer existed. No more long-sleeved black and navy dresses, black pumps, hose. In fact, she hadn't forced herself into a pair of pantyhose in years and the clients she counseled in her psychologist's practice would suspect something very amiss, even downright wrong, if they saw her in anything but her favorite pair of worn jeans and scuffed brown cowboy boots. Living in Manhattan where everything was cement, she'd already had the boots resoled twice, but there was no way she'd break down and buy another pair. These fit just right.

Sights and sounds of the city glided past as she looked out the backseat window. Throngs of pedestrians at every corner waiting to flood into crosswalks, vendors cooking God knows what. Hailey called it "street meat"; she never really knew what it was, but it sure smelled good. Makeshift carts selling knock-off purses, watches, pashminas, scarves, and jewelry. The big avenues going north and south, up and down. The island floated by ... First Avenue, Second and Third, Lexington, Park, Fifth, Sixth ... before she knew it, the cabbie hit the brakes in front of GNE, Global News and Entertainment.

With her purse on her shoulder and her notepad clutched to her chest, Hailey wove through the people milling in front of the towering skyscraper that housed GNE. She'd never been in the building before, although she'd jogged by it many times in the past en route to Central Park. She rarely detoured off her regular jogging path up and down the East River. To get to the park from the East Side required ducking through hundreds of cars, thousands of pedestrians, and way too many exhaust fumes. Whenever she did do it, however, she was always struck by the park's beauty. The first time she ran through it forever stuck in her mind.

It was a brilliant Sunday morning and she'd been running over an hour when she unexpectedly came upon the park exit leading to the Plaza Hotel. At a distance, she saw a gold-plated statute, high up on a pedestal, shiny and glittering in the sun. It was one of the largest around. Wondering who deserved such glory, she stopped running and walked up to see it.

It turned out to be a shrine erected to William Tecumseh Sherman, the Union general responsible for literally burning a wide, sweeping swath of a path through the South, including the city of Atlanta, during the Civil War. The destruction of country so beautiful-carried out not to win the war, but out of pure joy at the South's devastation-remained a dagger in the hearts of many Southerners to the present day.

"Driver's license, ID" An old, gray GNE security guard repeated the phrase by rote without looking up from behind a long, glossy bleached wood counter.

Fishing through the deep leather purse hanging on her shoulder, Hailey pulled out her old District Attorney's badge, cased in a worn wallet holder. From behind the shiny gold badge, she pulled her Georgia driver's license and held it over the counter for the guard to inspect. He took it from her hand and began copying the information down on a sign-in sheet. Looking around, Hailey noticed several well-dressed security guards strategically placed throughout the lobby. They all wore blue sports coats with gray pants, with nearly invisible earpieces in their ears.

"Hailey Dean, Halley Dean. That name rings a bell." He looked up at her and then lowered his glasses to peer at her over their upper rims. "Right. I remember you. I read all about you in the Post, saw you on the TV too. That nut-job lawyer almost did you in, but you got him good. Right in the head. Dentist drill, right? Man I'd like to do it to my lawyer. Made my divorce worse than the old lady did. Almost called the divorce off just to get rid of the lawyer!"

The last thing she wanted to talk about was the night she was nearly murdered. She remembered the feel of Leonard's hair, slicked back as always, when her hand, clutching the buzzing dentist drill, slammed into his temple. She never remembered actually turning the thing on.

Funny how little details like that can bug you for the longest time.

Hailey managed a smile, telling herself the security guard's heart was in the right place.

"Yep. Hailey Dean. Right in the head with a dentist drill. Wonder if the dentist used that drill again. He shoulda framed it. Right?"

Before Hailey had to come up with a response, she heard her name screeched out across the large expanse of the GNE lobby floor.

"Hailey! Hailey Dee-e-an! You made it! You're so much smaller than you look on TV! I thought you were at least five feet ten! I just love it!"

Chapter Two

IT HAD TO BE TONY RUSSO. SHE'D RECOGNIZE THAT VOICE ANYWHERE. It had been in her ear for hours on end for months. The Jersey accent had actually grown on her, but this was the first time she could attach a face to the voice on the phone.

She had imagined someone tall, dressed in a suit, businesslike, maybe like an on-air anchor. He couldn't be more different. Barely topping five-feet-six, he was dressed in a baggy pair of low-rider jeans working their way down. Fashion "trends" were not for everyone, and with that in mind, Hailey didn't want to see Tony's other side.

The show's host, Harry Todd, was Tony's polar opposite. Todd had to be in his late fifties despite insisting, even when confronted with evidence to the contrary, that he was only thirty. He'd undergone every plastic surgery procedure known to man and doggedly followed every trend to stay young. His current stab at youth was spiking his highlighted hair straight up in the middle, stiff with gel, like a mohawk. Ego aside, he was the undisputed star of daytime talk.

Somehow, Todd garnered a huge share of the daytime market and not only managed to hang on for nearly twenty years, but was still perceived as a ratings monster, and nobody dared suggest otherwise. GNE would go right down the crapper without Todd as the tent pole holding up the daytime numbers.

And Anthony Russo was Todd's chief booker.

Russo booked Martha Stewart on Harry Todd straight out of jail and even got her to wear the famous green poncho she knitted behind bars. He got Brad and Angelina, and every sitting president since Reagan.

The show was executive-produced by a female power broker by the name of Sookie Downs. Downs had come up through the network and landed at the helm of the biggest daytime talk show in the industry. She ran the show with an iron fist from her mansion somewhere in the Hamptons, literally smack in the middle of an apple orchard.

Rarely making the trek into the city, she relied on her henchman, Tony Russo, to hold the show together and do her bidding. He carried a private cell phone on his hip at all times so they could stay in constant contact. Right now, Russo looked Hailey straight in the eyes. "You're so beautiful. I had no idea! Do people just come up to you on the street and say 'You're beautiful'? I love it!"

Hailey gave him a hard look. Was he serious?

He looked so sincere ... but glancing over at him as they walked side by side toward a huge, swanky bank of elevators, she noticed he had already looked away from her and was scanning the lobby of the building to see if there was anyone there he needed to glad-hand before they got on. Meaningless compliments apparently just rolled off his tongue.

Okay. She sized him up pretty quickly. He was just one of those TV types she'd always heard about, shallow, frenetic, would say or do anything to get a story. Note to self ... Take Russo with a pinch, no ... a box ... of salt.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from DEATH ON THE D-LIST by NANCY GRACE Copyright © 2010 by Toto Holdings, LLC. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3
( 91 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(24)

4 Star

(14)

3 Star

(16)

2 Star

(18)

1 Star

(19)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 91 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 10, 2011

    Just when you thought it was safe to go to the bookstore

    Ugh! What are the publishers thinking? This story even more poorly written than the last, and is simply another obvious attempt by the author at self-glorification. Don't waste your time! There are too many other great reads out there.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted October 4, 2010

    NOT!!!!

    I had to read this book twice and I'm not sure I understand it still. It jumps all over the place and is hard to follow. I love Nancy Grace mbut this book is a not!!!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 28, 2012

    A so-so read

    I wasnt overly impressed with this book. I was looking forward to a good read, but oh well.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 1, 2012

    Recommend

    2nd in the series and was as good as the first. Fast read and kept me interested all the way through. Characters are likeable and believable. Nancy Grace has a real talent for writing.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 16, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Great read, Could hardly put it down!!! I'm ready for #3!

    Loved this 2nd book by Nancy Grace. Hailey Dean is someone I can relate to. Looking foward to #3.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 18, 2012

    good read

    Grace continues to develop lead character. Good descriptive language and plot.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 18, 2011

    Surprised that I liked it!

    This is the first time I've read anything by Ms. Grace. Very surprised that she can actually write. I enjoyed it.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 12, 2011

    Highly Recommend

    This was a great book, a real page turner. Nancy Grace is a very good author.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 23, 2011

    Awesome Book

    This book is definitely a page turner. Very well written. Shows viewpoints of various characters which makes the read more interesting.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 19, 2010

    GREAT BOOK!

    When is Nancy going to write her next book ? GREAT BOOK WOULD RECOMMENED TO ANYONE TO READ ....
    This was a book that was hard to put down once I started reading. Up until the very last I was wrong as to who was the killer. Keep up the good work waiting for the next book.

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  • Posted August 24, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    A TENSION FILLED THRILLER DRAWN FROM LIFE

    It is so satisfying to read books by authors who really know their subjects, and Nancy Grace tops that list. She was a prosecutor of perpetrators of violent crime in inner city Atlanta for over ten years. And, while doing so she racked up a perfect record - almost 100 prosecutions and no trial losses. She later became a part of Court TV. Today she's eagerly watched on theHLN show Nancy Grace and the syndicated program Swift Justice with Nancy Grace. On top of all that she pens first-rate thrillers such as Objection!, The Eleventh Victim (the first Hailey Dean mystery) and now DEATH ON THE D-LIST.

    With stories based on her life experiences each novel compels with reality and crackles with excitement from page 1 to the closing paragraph. DEATH ON THE D-LIST begins with Hailey's return to NYC and a feeling that it is as if she had never left - feels the same as before, "Before two of her favorite clients were murdered at the hands of a man who was once her courtroom adversary, a man who not only passed as an upstanding and highly successful member of the Georgia State Bar, but before that, as an Atlanta beat cop...."

    With those thoughts in mind Hailey is looking forward to building a quiet, normal life - as quiet as it can be for a therapist. Nonetheless, before long the urge to fight crime takes over and she agrees to do it not on dark streets but in front of a television camera.

    However, TV appearances turn deadly when former stars trying to get off the dreaded D-List and back in the limelight are murdered. It's up to NYPD cop EthanKolker to solve these murders, and he wants Hailey's help. Forget the fact that Kolker once hunted Hailey for killing her own patients. He's been trying to make amends with flowers, chocolates - all of which she returned. But nothing gets Hailey's attention like unsolved murders.

    With DEATH ON THE D-LIST Nancy Grace has crafted a carefully plotted thriller that captures until the final page.

    - Gail Cooke

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