Fleeced (Regan Reilly Series #5)

( 18 )

Overview

Regan Reilly — the smart, saucy sleuth featured in all of Carol Higgins Clark's bestsellers — is in New York attending a crime conference organized by her celebrity-author mother...and enjoying time with a new beau, Jack "no relation" Reilly. It's not long before trouble finds her: a family friend, Thomas Pilsner — the president of the Settlers' Club on Gramercy Park — desperately needs help. Two Settlers are dead, diamonds they were donating to the flagging club have vanished, and Thomas is rapidly becoming the ...

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Overview

Regan Reilly — the smart, saucy sleuth featured in all of Carol Higgins Clark's bestsellers — is in New York attending a crime conference organized by her celebrity-author mother...and enjoying time with a new beau, Jack "no relation" Reilly. It's not long before trouble finds her: a family friend, Thomas Pilsner — the president of the Settlers' Club on Gramercy Park — desperately needs help. Two Settlers are dead, diamonds they were donating to the flagging club have vanished, and Thomas is rapidly becoming the prime suspect on all counts. As sharp as ever, Regan sets about solving the mystery of the disappearing diamonds and dead donors in order to save Thomas' neck...before the real killer finds him.

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
When Regan Reilly arrives in New York City to attend a conference organized by her celebrity-author mother, the last thing she expects is to be plunged into a headline-making case. But that's just what happens when an old friend calls on Regan to investigate the murder of two fellow Settler's Club members, whose deaths have left the club in a financial bind and Regan's friend in an awful fix. Now, unless Regan can clear his name, her old friend just might find himself behind bars -- if a ruthless killer doesn't get to him first.
From the Publisher
Nelson DeMille Fleeced has the feel and comfort of a good old-fashioned mystery with the edginess and pulse of a modern Manhattan suspense thriller.

The Ottawa Citizen Another delightful read.

The Calgary Herald Good enough for holiday dessert.

From The Critics
This fourth book in Clark's Regan Reilly mystery series will probably be a bestseller, but there's no denying it, it's a terrible, terrible book. Implausible and kitschy, it is rife with the kind of humor commonly found embroidered on dish towels. So that we will know whom to suspect, Clark has given potential culprits sophomoric names, of which the worst are Maldwin Feckles and Daphne Doody. It may be as well that Clark earmarks her characters in this childish way, since the usual pleasures of detective fiction are largely absent. Cunning clues, an intricate timetable and brilliant analysis of evidence are so largely absent that it is an agreeable change when a cleaning lady confides that she's surprised that the victim drowned in his bath, since he invariably took showers. The real mystery is that so many people are likely to think this is one.
—Penelope Mesic

Publishers Weekly
Los Angeles PI Regan Reilly crosses the continent to visit Manhattan, her parents, and lover (New York cop Jack "no relation" Reilly), but ends up with almost all of her time consumed by a murder mystery. Clark's breezy, choppy style she crams 81 chapters into a page count achieved with generous amounts of white space and cavalcade of eccentric characters are the sum of the book. Dithering friend Thomas Pilsner, president of the Settlers' Club in Gramercy Park, calls Regan when two of the club's oldest and wealthiest members die just before they were to give the club four diamonds valued at more than $4 million. The money would have allowed Pilsner to save the venerable but deteriorating club but, alas, the diamonds have disappeared. Convinced that the "accidental" deaths were nothing of the sort, Pilsner wants Regan to prove it and recover the missing diamonds. A nascent butlering school, a dating service, a histrionic movie director, a pair of grasping con men and a couple of stuffed sheep figure prominently in the cast. A strange collection of oddballs and schemers have made the Settlers' Club the focus of their attentions, and the author rapidly switches her attentions from one to another till they collide in a climactic scene in which the killer stands revealed. Clark's light touch can be entertaining, but those expecting a real solution to the murder might be disappointed. (Oct. 23) Forecast: With a nine-city author tour and foreign rights already sold in France and Germany, plus the high name recognition, this title seems destined for generous sales. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
P.I. Regan Reilly is helping Thomas Pilsner, president of the Settlers' Club. It seems that two of the club's oldest and wealthiest members, who were about to give the club millions in diamonds, were murdered. The money would have saved the club, but now the diamonds have disappeared, and Pilsner wants Regan to investigate and recover the missing gems. A strange collection of eccentric oddballs reside at the Settlers' Club, and the focus of the book switches from one to another as Regan involves herself in their lives. Eventually, the killer stands revealed in this light-hearted tale. Laura Hicks provides an easy-listening experience for an at times sophomoric whodunit. Recommended for larger collections only. Denise A. Garofalo, Astor Home for Children, Rhinebeck, NY Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780743412315
  • Publisher: Pocket Books
  • Publication date: 7/30/2002
  • Series: Regan Reilly Series , #5
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 368
  • Sales rank: 224,224
  • Product dimensions: 6.80 (w) x 4.26 (h) x 1.10 (d)

Meet the Author

Carol Higgins Clark

Carol Higgins Clark is the author of the bestselling Regan Reilly mysteries. She is coauthor, along with her mother, Mary Higgins Clark, of a bestselling holiday mystery series. Also an actress, Carol Higgins Clark studied at the Beverly Hills Playhouse and has recorded several novels. She received AudioFile’s Earphones Award of Excellence for her reading of Jinxed. She lives in New York City. Her website is CarolHigginsClark.com.

Biography

If Mary Higgins Clark is the Queen of Suspense, then her daughter, Carol, could be considered the Princess of the Pratfall for the quirky comedy she liberally sprinkles throughout her bestselling Regan Reilly mysteries. As a reviewer once said, "Mary Higgins Clark goes for the jugular; Carol Higgins Clark goes for the funny bone."

Clark's apprenticeship to her mega-bestselling mom began early on. In 1975, when she was a student at Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts, mama Mary was still working full time, supporting five children on her own while trying to get her fledgling career as a novelist off the ground. Daughter Carol did her part to help, pitching in between term papers and acting classes to peck away at her mother's pages on a manual typewriter, making savvy edits along the way.

She recalled to the Philadelphia Inquirer her early days as an unsung editrix of her mother's work: "In one of her books, Loves Music, Loves to Dance, she had a serial killer who was making dates through the personal ads and then killing the girls. So the best friend of one of the girls he killed is trying to figure out who might have done it, so she's going out on these dates. So I was reading it and going over it with my mother and she had all these bars in New York. I said, 'No one goes there, no one goes there.' So I changed all the bars and restaurants. And People magazine said in its review: 'Clark offers a well-informed tour of New York's singles haunts.' So that was my contribution to that book. But I was really learning a lot."

After a few acting stints in off-Broadway theater, movies, and television -- her first role was as an extra on the soap opera Ryan's Hope -- Clark decided to try her hand at writing her own novel. She conjured up a semi-autobiographical heroine, sleuth Regan Reilly (who just so happens to have a celebrity author mother), and Decked debuted in 1992, garnering nominations for both an Agatha and an Anthony Award for Best First Novel. Clark relishes researching each new Regan Reilly adventure, gleaning inspiration from real-life capers both daffy and decadent.

After establishing herself in her own right as a farcical force to be reckoned with -- all of her Regan Reilly novels hit the New York Times bestseller list -- Clark teamed up with her mother in 2000 to pen their first holiday-themed thriller, Deck the Halls. We think it's pretty safe to say Carol didn't have to do all the typing!

Good To Know

Some outtakes from our interview with Clark:

"My first job was at a dry cleaner's. You'd be amazed at what you find in people's pockets! All sorts of clues about their lives! I had a character in Iced who worked at a dry cleaner's."

"I started out as an actress, and that background has helped me with my books. I love going to the theatre."

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Regan Reilly glanced out the window of the plane she'd been on for the last five hours, thrilled to finally spot the skyline of Manhattan. It's great to be back, she thought. This is where I belong. For a lot of reasons. Not the least of which was her new beau — the head of the Major Case Squad in New York City — one Jack Reilly, who thank God was no relation.

A private investigator in Los Angeles, thirty-one-year-old Regan was planning to attend the crime convention that her mother, mystery writer Nora Regan Reilly, had organized with a handful of her fellow authors. Regan's father, Luke, the owner of three funeral homes in New Jersey, would be there too. It was at Christmastime, when her father had been kidnapped, that Regan had met Jack Reilly. They'd been involved in a coast-to-coast romance for three months.

"I'd do anything that would result in your happiness, Regan," Luke had joked — more than once since he was safely home — "even be kidnapped."

Yes, Jack makes me happy, Regan mused as the wheels of the plane smoothly hit the pavement and the pilot taxied to the gate with no delays.

At the baggage claim Regan was inordinately pleased that for once her suitcases were among the first to be spit down the chute. She hoisted them onto the cart she'd rented and hurried out to grab a cab. There was only one person on the taxi line. This is all so easy today, Regan thought. Too easy. Something's got to go wrong. But even though it was after five o'clock on a Thursday, her cab made great time getting into the city.

As they passed the Plaza Hotel and headed across Central Park South, Regan smiled. Almost there, she thought. She'd be joining her parents at the convention's opening cocktail party and then for dinner. Jack had an awards ceremony he had to attend out on Long Island, but she'd see him tomorrow.

Life was a regular bowl of cherries.

At her parents' apartment, Regan felt the familiar sense of comfort that she always experienced when she walked through the door. She quickly showered, changed into a black dress, the nighttime uniform in the city, and hurried out. The cocktail party was still in full swing. Nora spotted Regan the minute she arrived, her maternal instinct on its usual red alert.

"Regan, you're here!" Nora exclaimed happily as she hurried over to greet her only child.

Several hours later, Regan, Nora, and Luke were finishing a festive dinner at the Gramercy Tavern. All the tables were filled, and the bar was bustling.

"That was delicious," Regan said as she looked around the busy restaurant. "This is the perfect place to kick off the weekend. I don't get down to this neighborhood enough."

Little did she know that, less than two blocks away, a crime was taking place. A crime that would bring her back to Gramercy Park much sooner than she expected.

Nat Pemrod sat at the antique desk in the living room of his splendid penthouse apartment and sighed happily. A few feet away, the door to his safe was open, and all its contents were spread out lovingly in front of him. With a hint of mist in his eyes, he gazed down at his deceased wife, Wendy's, engagement and wedding rings; the pearls he had given her on their first anniversary; the silly little ring they'd gotten out of a Cracker Jack box that Wendy had always treasured even more than her real jewelry. All the bracelets and earrings and necklaces and pins he had bought her over the years were here. Each and every bauble and trinket, cheap or expensive, held a special memory.

Nat had been a jeweler for fifty years. A few days ago, he and his buddy and fellow jeweler Ben had decided to donate the proceeds from the sale of four precious diamonds they'd owned secretly for almost half a century to their ailing Settlers' Club in honor of its one hundredth anniversary.

They'd both been "Settlers" since their early thirties, and Nat had been in residence at the club for most of his life. The club, founded by an eccentric for "pioneering people with spirit," and located on beautiful Gramercy Park in New York City, had in its heyday been a favored gathering place for social, political, and artistic leaders, a mecca for cultural events. Its membership of "pioneers" had consisted of men and women with a broad range of occupations and personalities, and included a fair share of oddballs. But now the club was suffering the fate of many similar clubs and was in danger of closing. Membership was down, the place was in disrepair, and funds were low. It was sneeringly referred to by some as the "Settled Down Club."

With the anniversary party coming up, Nat and Ben had decided they should put their money where their hearts were, so to speak, sell their diamonds, and fork over what would amount to four million dollars to the club.

"It should certainly help get this joint jumping again." Nat chuckled.

Nat had also decided it was high time to make some final decisions about who would get Wendy's jewelry. When he was gone, he wanted the baubles to be appreciated. But while he was alive he couldn't bear the thought of Wendy's jewels adorning another woman's body. He conducted his private, loving inventory and was about to put the jewelry back in the safe when once again his eyes fell on the special red-velvet jewelry case.

Nat's hands trembled slightly as he reached for it. Cradling the case in his outstretched palms, he opened it carefully and stared at the four large and brilliant diamonds that in a matter of days would be turned into cold, hard cash. "I hate to say good-bye to you guys after fifty years of togetherness, but this club of ours really needs the dough." Nat laughed and placed the box back down on the desk.

A surge of excitement coursed through his veins, and he clapped his hands. This is going to be fun, he thought. Helping this club fix itself up. The big one hundredth anniversary party on Saturday night. More parties to celebrate throughout the year. Ben and I will be at the helm of it all. It sure brightens up a dreary March.

The raw wind outside suddenly seemed to penetrate the apartment. Nat pulled his bathrobe closer and looked around at his living room appreciatively. The glorious wood paneling, the antique furniture, the wrought iron staircase that led up to a balcony with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the tops of which overlooked the couch, the fireplace, and the pair of life-sized sheep that were perched in front of the window.

Nat and Wendy had bought them early in their marriage because they reminded her of her childhood days on a sheep farm in England. Over the years, Nat had surprised her with any sheep knickknacks he could get his hands on. But the two stuffed sheep were her favorites. They were the children she never had. She loved them so much that when she made a generous donation to the Settlers' Club right before she died three years ago, it was with the understanding that when she and Nat were both dead, the club would take those sheep and put them in a place of honor in the front parlor.

Yes indeed, this has been a wonderful place to live for more than fifty years, Nat thought. Ben and I made the right decision to be such generous souls and make sure it keeps going!

He jumped up, grabbed the red box, and walked over to the sheep, whom he and Wendy had named Dolly and Bah-Bah. He pulled the two glass stones out of Dolly's eye sockets and replaced them with two of the diamonds. He then repeated the procedure on Bah-Bah, stood back, and smiled.

"The eyes have it!" He laughed. "You two look like a million bucks. Your mama, Wendy, loved it when you slept with the diamonds in your eyes. She said you were her precious jewels. This is one of the last nights your eyes will have that special sparkle."

Carefully, Nat pulled the strands of wool that were their bangs over their now valuable eyes and patted them both. He dropped the glass stones into the red box and replaced it on the desk.

I'll take my shower and then close up shop here, he thought with a smile. He shuffled down the long hallway and through his bedroom. In the opulent marble master bathroom, Nat turned on the jets in the shower full force.

"That'll feel good on these old bones," he muttered as he walked past the oversize Jacuzzi and back into his bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him. "Warm it up a little in there first," he said.

The ten o'clock news would just be starting. He lay down on his bed, grabbed the remote control, and flicked on the television. What a day, he thought, chuckling happily. Making plans to give away several million bucks can really tire you out. Nat closed his eyes for what he thought would be a moment but quickly dozed off. When he awoke with a start, the clock on the bedside table read 10:38.

Nat pulled his eighty-three-year-old body up and slid down off the old-fashioned four-poster bed that his dear wife had purchased three decades ago at a most serendipitous garage sale. As he pushed open the bathroom door, a wall of steam enveloped him. "Ahhhhhh," he grunted as he took off his bathrobe and hung it on a hook.

But something was wrong. He peered through the steam and stepped toward the Jacuzzi. It was filled with water. "What?" he said aloud as fear clutched his heart. "I didn't turn this on...did I?"

"No, you didn't."

Startled, Nat spun around. He started to speak, but before the words came out, an intruder emerged from the steam and gave Nat a forceful shove that sent him hurtling backward into the Jacuzzi. Nat's head banged against the side of the tub before it slid below the surface of the water.

"Perfect." The intruder watched as Nat's body settled into a nearly motionless state, swaying ever so gently with the movement of the slowly calming water. "It's a shame how many people lose their lives when they slip in the tub. A crying shame."

A moment later, the shower jets were turned off and the inside of the stall had been wiped dry.

Copyright © 2001 by Carol Higgins Clark

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Table of Contents

Read More Show Less

First Chapter

Chapter One

Regan Reilly glanced out the window of the plane she'd been on for the last five hours, thrilled to finally spot the skyline of Manhattan. It's great to be back, she thought. This is where I belong. For a lot of reasons. Not the least of which was her new beau -- the head of the Major Case Squad in New York City -- one Jack Reilly, who thank God was no relation.

A private investigator in Los Angeles, thirty-one-year-old Regan was planning to attend the crime convention that her mother, mystery writer Nora Regan Reilly, had organized with a handful of her fellow authors. Regan's father, Luke, the owner of three funeral homes in New Jersey, would be there too. It was at Christmastime, when her father had been kidnapped, that Regan had met Jack Reilly. They'd been involved in a coast-to-coast romance for three months.

"I'd do anything that would result in your happiness, Regan," Luke had joked -- more than once since he was safely home -- "even be kidnapped."

Yes, Jack makes me happy, Regan mused as the wheels of the plane smoothly hit the pavement and the pilot taxied to the gate with no delays.

At the baggage claim Regan was inordinately pleased that for once her suitcases were among the first to be spit down the chute. She hoisted them onto the cart she'd rented and hurried out to grab a cab. There was only one person on the taxi line. This is all so easy today, Regan thought. Too easy. Something's got to go wrong. But even though it was after five o'clock on a Thursday, her cab made great time getting into the city.

As they passed the Plaza Hotel and headed across Central Park South, Regan smiled. Almost there, she thought. She'd be joining her parents at the convention's opening cocktail party and then for dinner. Jack had an awards ceremony he had to attend out on Long Island, but she'd see him tomorrow.

Life was a regular bowl of cherries.

At her parents' apartment, Regan felt the familiar sense of comfort that she always experienced when she walked through the door. She quickly showered, changed into a black dress, the nighttime uniform in the city, and hurried out. The cocktail party was still in full swing. Nora spotted Regan the minute she arrived, her maternal instinct on its usual red alert.

"Regan, you're here!" Nora exclaimed happily as she hurried over to greet her only child.


Several hours later, Regan, Nora, and Luke were finishing a festive dinner at the Gramercy Tavern. All the tables were filled, and the bar was bustling.

"That was delicious," Regan said as she looked around the busy restaurant. "This is the perfect place to kick off the weekend. I don't get down to this neighborhood enough."

Little did she know that, less than two blocks away, a crime was taking place. A crime that would bring her back to Gramercy Park much sooner than she expected.


Nat Pemrod sat at the antique desk in the living room of his splendid penthouse apartment and sighed happily. A few feet away, the door to his safe was open, and all its contents were spread out lovingly in front of him. With a hint of mist in his eyes, he gazed down at his deceased wife, Wendy's, engagement and wedding rings; the pearls he had given her on their first anniversary; the silly little ring they'd gotten out of a Cracker Jack box that Wendy had always treasured even more than her real jewelry. All the bracelets and earrings and necklaces and pins he had bought her over the years were here. Each and every bauble and trinket, cheap or expensive, held a special memory.

Nat had been a jeweler for fifty years. A few days ago, he and his buddy and fellow jeweler Ben had decided to donate the proceeds from the sale of four precious diamonds they'd owned secretly for almost half a century to their ailing Settlers' Club in honor of its one hundredth anniversary.

They'd both been "Settlers" since their early thirties, and Nat had been in residence at the club for most of his life. The club, founded by an eccentric for "pioneering people with spirit," and located on beautiful Gramercy Park in New York City, had in its heyday been a favored gathering place for social, political, and artistic leaders, a mecca for cultural events. Its membership of "pioneers" had consisted of men and women with a broad range of occupations and personalities, and included a fair share of oddballs. But now the club was suffering the fate of many similar clubs and was in danger of closing. Membership was down, the place was in disrepair, and funds were low. It was sneeringly referred to by some as the "Settled Down Club."

With the anniversary party coming up, Nat and Ben had decided they should put their money where their hearts were, so to speak, sell their diamonds, and fork over what would amount to four million dollars to the club.

"It should certainly help get this joint jumping again." Nat chuckled.

Nat had also decided it was high time to make some final decisions about who would get Wendy's jewelry. When he was gone, he wanted the baubles to be appreciated. But while he was alive he couldn't bear the thought of Wendy's jewels adorning another woman's body. He conducted his private, loving inventory and was about to put the jewelry back in the safe when once again his eyes fell on the special red-velvet jewelry case.

Nat's hands trembled slightly as he reached for it. Cradling the case in his outstretched palms, he opened it carefully and stared at the four large and brilliant diamonds that in a matter of days would be turned into cold, hard cash. "I hate to say good-bye to you guys after fifty years of togetherness, but this club of ours really needs the dough." Nat laughed and placed the box back down on the desk.

A surge of excitement coursed through his veins, and he clapped his hands. This is going to be fun, he thought. Helping this club fix itself up. The big one hundredth anniversary party on Saturday night. More parties to celebrate throughout the year. Ben and I will be at the helm of it all. It sure brightens up a dreary March.

The raw wind outside suddenly seemed to penetrate the apartment. Nat pulled his bathrobe closer and looked around at his living room appreciatively. The glorious wood paneling, the antique furniture, the wrought iron staircase that led up to a balcony with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the tops of which overlooked the couch, the fireplace, and the pair of life-sized sheep that were perched in front of the window.

Nat and Wendy had bought them early in their marriage because they reminded her of her childhood days on a sheep farm in England. Over the years, Nat had surprised her with any sheep knickknacks he could get his hands on. But the two stuffed sheep were her favorites. They were the children she never had. She loved them so much that when she made a generous donation to the Settlers' Club right before she died three years ago, it was with the understanding that when she and Nat were both dead, the club would take those sheep and put them in a place of honor in the front parlor.

Yes indeed, this has been a wonderful place to live for more than fifty years, Nat thought. Ben and I made the right decision to be such generous souls and make sure it keeps going!

He jumped up, grabbed the red box, and walked over to the sheep, whom he and Wendy had named Dolly and Bah-Bah. He pulled the two glass stones out of Dolly's eye sockets and replaced them with two of the diamonds. He then repeated the procedure on Bah-Bah, stood back, and smiled.

"The eyes have it!" He laughed. "You two look like a million bucks. Your mama, Wendy, loved it when you slept with the diamonds in your eyes. She said you were her precious jewels. This is one of the last nights your eyes will have that special sparkle."

Carefully, Nat pulled the strands of wool that were their bangs over their now valuable eyes and patted them both. He dropped the glass stones into the red box and replaced it on the desk.

I'll take my shower and then close up shop here, he thought with a smile. He shuffled down the long hallway and through his bedroom. In the opulent marble master bathroom, Nat turned on the jets in the shower full force.

"That'll feel good on these old bones," he muttered as he walked past the oversize Jacuzzi and back into his bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him. "Warm it up a little in there first," he said.

The ten o'clock news would just be starting. He lay down on his bed, grabbed the remote control, and flicked on the television. What a day, he thought, chuckling happily. Making plans to give away several million bucks can really tire you out. Nat closed his eyes for what he thought would be a moment but quickly dozed off. When he awoke with a start, the clock on the bedside table read 10:38.

Nat pulled his eighty-three-year-old body up and slid down off the old-fashioned four-poster bed that his dear wife had purchased three decades ago at a most serendipitous garage sale. As he pushed open the bathroom door, a wall of steam enveloped him. "Ahhhhhh," he grunted as he took off his bathrobe and hung it on a hook.

But something was wrong. He peered through the steam and stepped toward the Jacuzzi. It was filled with water. "What?" he said aloud as fear clutched his heart. "I didn't turn this on...did I?"

"No, you didn't."

Startled, Nat spun around. He started to speak, but before the words came out, an intruder emerged from the steam and gave Nat a forceful shove that sent him hurtling backward into the Jacuzzi. Nat's head banged against the side of the tub before it slid below the surface of the water.

"Perfect." The intruder watched as Nat's body settled into a nearly motionless state, swaying ever so gently with the movement of the slowly calming water. "It's a shame how many people lose their lives when they slip in the tub. A crying shame."

A moment later, the shower jets were turned off and the inside of the stall had been wiped dry.

Copyright © 2001 by Carol Higgins Clark

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3
( 18 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 18 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 20, 2007

    A reviewer

    This story was okay, but not that great. I prefer suspense in a story and guesswork -- all seemed to be missing in this work. It was okay, but I recommend checking out the book from the library to decide if you want your own copy.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted February 26, 2009

    Fleeced

    Reviewed By: Emily Holcombe
    Fleeced is not I book I would recommend to anyone. It is about a girl named Regan Reilly and she is a detective who is searching for lost diamonds in a hotel. The book just dragged on and on and finally got to the end! I think there was too much information that didn't need to be in there! Carol Higgins Clark could have made it a good book if it didn't drag on so much.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted September 14, 2012

    HALF BLOOD HILL

    The golden fleece sits ovwr a tree a barriwr to protect th camp

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 12, 2007

    Stupid sheep

    I wish I had read all of the other reviews before I delved into this one. I've never read Carol Higgins Clark before and don't plan to read her books again. Towels and sheep were the main mysteries in this book? Come on! Something stronger should have been used.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 13, 2007

    Don't bother

    This was the first book I read by her and it is definitely for a teenaged reader. Also, there are way too many characters in and out of the chapters.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 23, 2004

    Wonderful

    It got straight to the point, simple yet fulfilling. I bought it in bargain because I wanted something to pour over on a boring trip and it totally satisfied me. I am buying and renting more of Carol and Mary's books all the time. Carol, I am your fan.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 8, 2003

    Get this book from the library!

    ...so you don't waste any hard-earned money on it. If Carol Higgins Clark used a pen name she would very quickly find herself selling shoes at Bloomingdales. Perhaps her style of writing would appeal more to a younger crowd.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 12, 2002

    Disappointing!

    I have read her other books, including the one she co-wrote with her mother but this book was horrible, boring and it was the type you keep thinking this has to get better. It did not.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 10, 2002

    Okay but could have been better!

    Carol had a good story, but I thought some of the characters names were ridiculous! I knew who the culprit was halfway through the book. This book seemed to lack Carol's usual style of good detective writing. On the plus side, I would like to see more 'together time' between Jack and Regan. For those of you who want to take a chance on this book, wait for the paperback so you won't blow as much money.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 28, 2001

    AN ENTERTAINING READING SPICED WITH DANGER

    Carol Higgins Clark gives authentic voice to Regan Reilly, an intelligent, quick, young woman with a penchant for solving crimes. Regan is in the Big Apple for a crime conference put together by her celebrity author mother when she is contacted by a friend, Thomas Pilsner, who desperately needs help. Pilsner is president of the Settler's Club on Gramercy Park. Two members of the club who had promised to salvage the failing club with healthy monetary gifts are found dead. Regan to the rescue. She casts her inquiring eyes on other tenants in the building, such as Lydia Sevatura who runs a dating service from her apartment, and her butler, Maldwin Feckles who's a bit of an entrepreneur in his own right having just opened a butlering school. Calling on boyfriend and mystery writing mom for help Regan does, of course, solve the mystery. Nonetheless, readers are kept guessing until the last pages. Fleeced, very much like protagonist Regan Reilly, is both urban and urbane - an entertainment spiced with outre characters and dashes of danger.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    humorous private detective novel

    Los Angeles private investigator Regan Reilly is in New York City for several reasons. She¿s going to visit her parents and also attend the crime convention her mother has put together. She looks forward to seeing her significant other Jack Reilly, the head of the Big Apple¿s Major Case Squad. Unfortunately Megan has little time to visit with anyone because her friend Thomas Pilsner needs her in her official capacity. <P>Thomas is president of the Setler¿s Club, a place where people who are free thinkers congregate, exchange new ideas and have fun. The club is in decline but two of its¿ members, Nat and Dan are planning to contribute four diamonds worth four million dollars to revitalize the club. Both die before they can give their gift. Thomas wants Megan to find the missing donation before the Setler¿s Club becomes history. Other people are searching for the diamonds including two very dangerous grifters who will use any means at their disposal to get what they want. <P> The fifth installment in the Megan Reilly mystery series is a humorous private detective novel starring a heroine who keeps the audience hopping with her many exploits. The support cast is filled with quirky eccentric characters that add a vein of humor to the story line. Carol Higgins Clark, like her mother Mary Higgins Clark, is a dynamite storyteller who excels at her craft. <P>Harriet Klausner

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    Posted April 10, 2009

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