The fourth book in the Sex, Lies, and Online Dating series, 2008

Devon Hamilton-Zemaitis was a beautiful woman. Being dead didn’t change that.

On a dreary Friday afternoon, beneath a steel gray sky, everyone inside the Grace Baptist Church on Thirty-first and Elm agreed that Devon made a fine-looking corpse. Even in death, she was everything her mother had raised her to be: gorgeous, stylish, and envied. She lay in perfect repose within the pale pink satin of her mahogany casket. The muted lights shone in her ash blond hair and caressed her smooth face, made flawless from years of strict skin-care regimes and Botox. Subtle tattooing lined her eyes and shaded her lips and Oscar Seinger, of Seinger and Sons Funeral Home, had done an excellent job concealing the gash on the left side of her forehead and the dent in her skull.

As her friends and fellow members of the Junior League filed past her casket, they wept delicate tears into monogrammed handkerchiefs and secretly thanked the Lord that it had been Devon, and not one of them, who’d run the stop sign at Vine and Sixth and t-boned a Wilson Brothers garbage truck.

A garbage truck, Meme Sanders thought as she stared down at her friend since first grade. That wasn’t a very dignified end to one’s life, but leave it to Devon to go out looking good in her Chanel bouclé tweed and Mikimoto pearls.

A garbage truck. Genevieve Brooks dabbed at the corner of her eye and hid a slight smile behind her handkerchief. On the same day that Devon had voted to keep Lee Ann Wilson out of the Junior League, a Wilson Brothers garbage truck had taken out Devon. Genevieve wondered if anyone but her appreciated that particularly delicious twist of irony. Of course Devon looked beautiful, Genevieve acknowledged as she gazed down at the woman she’d known since her first Little Miss Sparkle Pageant. Devon would not have been caught dead looking-well, dead-and Genevieve wondered if Devon wore the matching two-toned Chanel pumps or if people really were buried without shoes.