a bit from my new novel (in paperback)

Joan washed her hands and then picked up the phone to dial her secretary to find out how much fan mail had arrived.

Henry Rogers, Joan’s publicist, stepped in the door. Mad at him for not getting enough newspaper coverage, she decided to make him wait and listen to her phone call, hanging up and redialing to get someone else, instead. “Marilyn, sweetheart, wake up. It's me. Joanie. I know you have nothing to wear, are you naked now? Are you laying on top of your bed naked? Are your breasts covered with your sheet? Tell me! I have some pink pantyhose you can have. Are you awake? Hello?”

“What?” Marilyn Monroe asked.

“You can have 'em!” Joan offered, winking at Henry. “Hey! They're all the wrong color for me and I didn't even pay for them. MGM did. I was going to wear them for my Two Faced Woman number, but we decided I'm going to play a black woman - just to make it exotic. Pink is all wrong. And it's a bright pink. It'll go with your coloring quite beautifully.”

“Pantyhose?”

“Yes.”

Marilyn asked, “Have you worn them already?”

“What?”

“Did you put them all the way on – all the way up?”

“Of course,” Joan assured her. “I thought it would be very very exciting for you to have a few pairs of pantyhose I've already worn, for good luck, you see, since I'm such a big star and you're just hoping to get established.”

“No, thank you, Miss Crawford, but I really don't want any pantyhose that have already been worn by somebody else. That's just … ”

Joan imperially insisted, “I am NOT just any ol' somebody else. I am Joan Crawford and I am offering you Joan Crawford pantyhose. I thought that would be exciting for you - being that you're so disadvantaged right now and I understand how that is. When I came to Hollywood I had nothing but the few clothes I stole from some friends in Kansas City, which is neither here nor there right now, I needed something! I was winning all those dance contests and had to wear a dress! Nobody was kind to me! Everybody was waiting their turn to kick me back down. I had to scratch and claw for everything I have now!”

“No thank you Miss Crawford. That's so very sweet of you to think of me, but I don’t know … ”

Joan slammed the phone down, gulped her drink, and turned to Henry. “I try to help. You just heard me try. I know what it’s like to be just starting out in this town and not have much. Can you believe the little starlets today? Back when I was just beginning I'd have taken a pair of silk stockings if they were offered to me and I wouldn't dream of asking if they'd been used, I'd just look for the run! What is it with people today, the young people - they're so damn SPOILED! They won't even take a perfectly perfect pair of pink pantyhose that goes well with their coloring. How does she know she won't need them someday? Why doesn’t she just let me help her get started? I know I sure needed help when I first came to town. I was grateful! If it wasn’t for Bill I’m sure I’d be a blah housewife somewhere right now.” Joan squinted at the publicist. “And why are you here? What is it that you do?”

THE JOAN CRAWFOD MURDERS can be found in general fiction at http://stonegarden.net/

Who Wears the Crown Around Here?

This is how the new Tinseltown novel starts

THE JOAN CRAWFORD MURDERS

Chapter one


The day had been so exciting that she drank way too much. Just as
she was about to pass out, there was a knock at the dressing room
door. She opened her eyes, opened the door, and saw a Joan Crawford
in an old fashioned padded-shouldered 40s suit. She was
confused. "Huh?"

"I'm Joan Crawford."

She answered, slurring, "Noooo, I'm Joan Crawford!"

"I'm the only Joan Crawford, so I'll have to kill you."

"BALLS! Look whah-you're wearing! It's goddam 1953, for chrissakes!"

"Bloody knife!" Bloody knife!"

Joan squinted, trying to see straight. "Who are you?"

Three studio security guards rushed into the hall and two of them
dragged the kicking and swearing impersonator away. A third guard
stayed and asked, "Are you alright Miss Crawford?"

Only able to think about having had far too much to drink, she tried
to keep her eyes open, and found that her tongue had became
stuck. "Mah-laaah."

He chuckled. "All right Miss Crawford. I'll lock you in now for the
night."

"MGM can go-ta Hell!" She hiccupped as she slammed the door. She
grabbed her razor sharp silver From the Desk of Joan Crawford letter
opener and held it out to the room like a weapon as if she was still
in danger. "Wha-ya want!" She sliced at the air. Then she realized
she didn't see anybody else in the room. "Oh." She went to put the
letter opener back but missed the desk by a foot and it fell to the
floor, sounding a pretty chime. She didn't hear it as she fell to
her knees knocking an empty vodka bottle to the side. Then she
started to raggedly snore.

* * * * *


The phone rang. She woke up. "Goddam! Why am I on the floor? That
must have been some party. Oh, my head!" She picked up the phone
but it had stopped ringing, so she washed her hands, popped some
aspirin and fixed herself a drink. While she washed her hands again,
the phone rang again. She grabbed it. "You're speaking to a star!"

"Cranberry! You get to be Joan Crawford again! You get … "

"Bill!" It was Joan's oldest friend, the ex-star, Billy Haines, who
helped her start out in the silent days. "Bill!" Joan shifted the
heavy metal telephone to her other ear as she began to rub freesia
glycerin on her elbows. "Is that you? Bless you! How dear of you
to jingle-ling me, here! How's my favorite fairy dust? How's your
hubby, Jimmy? How are my favorite Hollywood homosexuals?"

It's in paperback in general fiction at: htt://stonegarden.net/

The Joan Crawford Murders ... in paperback !!!

In the second novel of the Tinseltown trilogy, Joan Crawford returns to MGM in 1953. Her comeback to her alma mater is to make the garish musical Torch Song. Joan suspects that it’s hokum, and that she’s getting too old for such parts, but she is desperate to make it work. That includes living at the studio in her dressing room during production. All the while, a psycho killer Joan Crawford drag queen stalks Hollywood to eliminate other Joan Crawford drag queens, and Joan is so strung out on vodka and super strength diet pills that she isn’t sure if she has taken up murder herself. Her gay best friend is poised ready to help her party. A powerful gangster is only interested in saving her reputation until death, and her loyal hairdresser has a son who has his own sneaky Joan Crawford secrets. The final epic showdown between Joan Crawford and Joan Crawford is beyond any movie ending ever filmed.



Check it out at Click HERE