Why, oh why, did Anne Marie Whitehall take her own life, swallowing away her pain and her grief with a handful of Nembutal capsules and a bottle of Merlot?... > Lire la suite
Why, oh why, did Anne Marie Whitehall take her own life, swallowing away her pain and her grief with a handful of Nembutal capsules and a bottle of Merlot? Does Samantha Jacobs, the red-haired vixen, grinding away on a pole at the Revue, know? Or perhaps Deena Cook, harried mother of four, and a regular visitor at Children's Services? Or does Cierra Maldonado, mother of two children by two different men, not receiving a penny of child support, and working as a cocktail waitress at a chi-chi club in downtown Cincinnati, know why? Or perhaps Lettie Robinson, a four-hundred pound housewife of three healthy and hungry little boys, who knows the meat display at Wal-Mart better than the inside of her own trailer, know? Well, someone knows why Anne Marie Whitehall committed suicide, but she isn't talking. And everyone wants to know who the raven-haired, glacially thin woman is who's walking around the trailer park and sending secret notes to certain dear--and dearly departed--friends.