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Veronica Mars (2): An Original Mystery by Rob Thomas: Mr. Kiss and Tell Paperback – January 20, 2015

4.6 out of 5 stars 1,466 customer reviews
Book 2 of 2 in the Veronica Mars Series

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Editorial Reviews

About the Author

Rob Thomas

Rob Thomas is the creator of the television series Veronica Mars and the co-creator of the television series Party Down. He lives in Austin with his wife and two children. He hasn’t fully recovered from Ray Allen’s three-pointer in Game 6 of the 2013 NBA Finals.


Jennifer Graham

Jennifer Graham graduated from Reed College and received her MFA from the University of Texas at Austin. Her short stories have appeared in The Seattle Review and Zahir. She currently lives in Austin with her husband.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

PROLOGUE
 
It was raining in Neptune. That was rare, even for early March; the little SoCal city usually boasted blue skies year-round. But the clouds had rolled in off the ocean, and now raindrops pattered across the houses of rich and poor alike, the one great equalizer in a town without a middle class.
 
A grimy white van trolled slowly through the east edge of town, where Zen landscaping gave way to weed-strewn lots. There were no millionaires’ homes here—no boutiques, no surf shops, no post-op resorts for wealthy nip/tuck patients. Out here were prefab houses propped on cinderblocks, biker bars, chop shops. The buildings were all sun-bleached and dingy, the roads speckled with potholes that sent the van bucking on its worn-out shocks.
 
Frank Kozlowski was a junk dealer, just like his old man had been. His late wife always liked to say he was in “antiques,” but ninety percent of what he found was well and truly junk—broken appliances he stripped for parts, scrap metal he recycled at a buck a pound. But every so often he found something really good. In a town like Neptune, where the wealthy always had more than they knew what to do with, a guy with wheels and initiative could make out like a bandit. High-end furniture that just needed reupholstery or refinishing; designer clothes with minor stains and tears. Paint-by-numbers art, antique road signs, and metal lunch boxes with ’70s-era cartoon characters on the front. He salvaged the best of it and resold it from his garage, mostly to young, Tyrolean-hatted guys and buzz-cut girls in resale mom jeans who used words like “naive” and “authentic” to describe his wares. Kozlowski didn’t mind—or in most cases even notice—the affectation. These kids kept the mortgage paid and the fridge stocked with beer.
 
He drove slowly through the rain, alert for any kind of glimmer from the underbrush. A rosary swayed back and forth from his rearview mirror, almost in time with the wipers. In the passenger seat, his little wire-haired mutt, Gus, sat at attention, ears pricked forward. It was just after seven a.m. and he’d already been out here for two hours. So far all he’d found was a stack of warped two-by-fours, a brass drawer pull, and a molded plastic chair pocked with cigarette-burn stigmata.
 
But the business was like that. Some mornings were a bust. Other mornings, the junk fairy lit a path at your feet and led you to something special. That’s what really got him out of bed at four in the dark, cold-ass morning. Not so much the promise of cash as that into-the-red spike of adrenaline, the thrill of the next big find. The way a single magic discovery could vindicate a hundred shitty, wasted trips. He’d never been able to explain that to Nell. She always groaned when he came back with rusted, filthy roadside dross. “Jesus, Frank, why can’t you just hit up estate sales like everyone else? Flea markets. Thrift shops. This stuff is worthless.”
 
Worthless. The word—the very idea—left him dumb-struck. Nothing was worthless. Not if you knew who needed it. Not if you knew how to salvage it. She’d never really appreciated that.
 
Still, that road went both ways. He’d been startled by the silence in the house in the year since she’d died (emphysema; she’d never been able to give up the fucking cigarettes), startled by how hard it was to sleep without her cold feet on his calves all night. They’d never had any kids. Now it was just him and Gus and a restless, edgy energy that sent him pacing from room to room and woke him in the pre-dawn chill, hounding him out of the house and into the junkyards and abandoned buildings fringing Neptune. He never thought to call the feeling grief.
 
Now, cruising along the empty road, his mind drifted. He thought about the donuts he always picked up on the way home, and the hot shower he’d take after unloading the shit from his van. Gus would need a bath too, after the rain and mud. He’d just about decided to throw in the towel and head home when he saw it.
 
There.
 
He eased his van onto the shoulder and killed the engine. The road banked sharply downward toward a lot fringed with buckwheat and sumac, a scraggly patch of land with a faded for sale sign nailed to a post. The sign had been there at least a decade. This wasn’t exactly prime real estate, situated on the edge of town in the empty miles between a ramshackle trailer park and the Balboa County Youth Correctional Compound. Half of Neptune seemed to use it as a cost-effective dumping ground, making it a regular stop on Kozlowski’s circuit. He’d found some good stuff in that lot over the years. A box of dog-eared Playboys. A six-foot fiberglass cheeseburger from a long-defunct drive-through. The front half of a ’68 Buick Skylark that he’d sold to a restora-tion company. And now he’d caught a glimpse of something through the gloom—something that might just be worth stumbling down that bank for.

Gus jumped lightly out of the van and took off running, his tail flailing right and left. He loved the hunt as much as Kozlowski, sensing his master’s excitement and feeding off it. Kozlowski stepped out after the dog, slamming the door behind him. Icy needles of rain stung his cheeks and neck. He hunched his shoulders against the cold, his boots sinking down in the mud. For a moment he couldn’t see anything, and he wondered if he’d imagined it. But then he found it again—a dirty pink shape, half hidden in the sedge. A dress form, perhaps a mannequin? His heart gave the familiar little stutter that almost always meant a good score.
 
The man knelt alongside Gus and patted the dog’s trembling rump. “What do you think? Worth getting wet for?”
 
Gus whipped around in a tight, fast little circle. That was good enough for Kozlowski.
 
The incline was steep and slippery. He edged his way down, leaning back to keep from going ass-over-teakettle. Gus scampered ahead of him and then paused at the base of the hill, shaking water from his coat. Kozlowski’s eyes locked in on the thing in the field. Definitely a mannequin—he could see the arms and legs splayed out in the mud. Cleaned up and restored it might get him a C-note from a vintage shop or a tailor. And there was the outside chance it was worth real money. He’d heard of antique mannequins going for seven, eight hundred a pop, sometimes more if it was a rare model in good condition.
 
But even from fifty feet away, this one was looking pretty rough. Its wig was so tangled and dirty he couldn’t guess what the original color might have been. The left arm crooked out at a strange angle to the rest of the body, probably busted. Dark streaks of mud wreathed the pale figure. Gus darted ahead across the field toward the thing, running in wild circles around it for a moment as Kozlowski approached.
 
He was a few yards away when the hair on the back of his neck suddenly shot up. Something felt wrong about the whole scene. The mannequin’s skintight dress was hiked up around its waist, its sculpted buttocks bare to the sky. Another time he might have thought it was funny, trying to imagine why the hell the manufacturers had designed a dress-store dummy with a realistic ass. But here in the rain, splayed out in the mud, it looked so sad—so sick—he felt a creeping unease that crowded out the dollar signs he’d imagined.
 
Gus was pawing at the thing’s torso, a thin whine coming up from his throat. Through the sound of the rain, Kozlowski could hear the distant croak of a raven from the tree line around the lot. He stepped closer, barely noticing the dull throb in his knee or the cold weight of his soaked denim jacket, kneeling down next to the shattered form in the gorse.
 
Two things happened at once.
 
The first was that Kozlowski’s eyes confirmed what some part of his gut already suspected: that the pale peach color was not fiberglass but flesh. That the dress was torn almost to shreds. That the black grime caking the skin was laced with streaks of dark red.
 
The second was that the woman’s left hand—jutting at a grotesque angle from the rest of her body—slowly clenched, fingers curling down into the dirt.
 
She was still alive.
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Product Details

  • Paperback: 336 pages
  • Publisher: Vintage; Mti edition (January 20, 2015)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 080417072X
  • ISBN-13: 978-0804170727
  • Product Dimensions: 5.2 x 0.7 x 8 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 9.1 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 4.6 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (1,466 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #39,917 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Customer Reviews

Top Customer Reviews

Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
Picks almost right up from where the movie left off. Veronica has put back on the private eye hat but the cases aren't exactly piling up, plus her dad, coming off of his physical therapy still isn't thrilled with her career choice.

Neptune is in the middle of its lucrative spring break season when a student is reported missing. The local Chamber of Commerce comes to Veronica to solve the case when Sheriff Lamb is his usual incompetent self. She's in the middle of retracing the missing girl's last known whereabouts (a luxurious, elaborate party thrown every night by mysterious hosts) when a second girl goes missing, a teenager with unexpected ties to Veronica's own past.

The book does a fine job of further exploring Veronica's relationship with her father and her closest friends, her faults and her strengths as investigator and brings to Veronica an opportunity for some unexpected closure to her life. Plus a twisty mystery.

I'm ready for the next book please.
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Format: Paperback
Mr. Kiss and Tell is a true gift to Veronica Mars fans - a novel that reads exactly like an episode, chock full of nearly every character we've come across at Neptune High and with an overall mystery arc and several personal arcs to solve. Plenty of twists and turns, LoVe angst, and crooked sheriff Lambs for everyone.

Story: Taking place after the previous book (and after the movie), 29 year old Veronica has partnered with her father in the PI business. When she is asked by a client to take on a case for the Neptune Grand Hotel, which is being sued over a rape case a year previous, Veronica will have to face her own past as well as recognize that she is an 'all or nothing' kind of girl. Unfortunately, so is Logan. While Mac secretly continues investigating her biological parents, Weevil is embroiled in the Celeste Kane armed robbery trial, Keith is still reeling after the accident that killed Deputy Sacks, And Wallace just wants to be a sports coach and not Veronica's tool. A lot of stories begun in the movie are finalized here in a very satisfying fashion.

What makes this a 5-start book is that the author/serious creator have written a story that very much speaks with all the ticks and nuances given to the characters by the actors. These aren't the script Veronica, Logan, etc., - these are the actors giving them life but now in written form. Especially Keith Mars as played by Rico Colantani, all the pauses, quips, and witty bon mots are dropped with casual aplomb straight from the tv show.

I admittedly found the movie disappointing - it seemed more like the actors had forgotten their characters and were just coasting through in movie cameos. But it's all back in this book and well worth the read.
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Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
I WANT to love this, I do. I am a huge Marshmellow, I funded on Kickstarter I own all the seasons of the show. I've watched the movie 5 times already. I LOVE Veronia Mars. I was sure I would give this 5 stars.

It isn't that the book is bad. I think that perhaps the problem, for me, is that it just reads so much like the script .pdf for the movie. The voices I hear, as I read this are those of the characters--but there is a certain hollowness. There is so much potential for these books, I just think it was a miss (mostly). This is a chance to pick up readers who will go back and experience the show for the first time...but unlike the novels I normally read I don't see it standing alone or being engaging to those who don't already "know" these characters.

The plot is decent, it reads like a normal episode, and the writing for the show as always brilliant--with perhaps a lot less snark than used to be normal--but with the usual complexity, while staying true to the character's tone and personality. I just find it missing something I can't place my finger on.

It is entirely possible that it is the lack of Logan's presence that is part of my perception that this is a miss...or a big part of the "why". The dynamic between the two has always been a big part of what works for the show.

I pre-ordered this novel, and I will do so with the next one. I still think was worth the money to read. I just have much higher hopes for the next one. I still find it to be a gift that this lives on, and I hope for more real life installments of the show/movie. It is not a bad book, I just know that Rob has a better book in him. I've already seen how amazing he can be...these books can be just as good.
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Format: Paperback
This review was first published at M's Bookshelf - http://mssbookshelf.blogspot.com

"It's everything you would expect from a Veronica Mars case. It has so many unexpected twists and turns, but more importantly: it has Veronica Mars. I mean, how fantastic is she? (...) there really was no awkward transition from page to screen", is what I wrote after reading the first VMars book, The Thousand Dollar Tan Line and every word of it is true for Mr. Kiss and Tell as well. I think I might like Mr. Kiss and Tell better - didn't expect that was even a possibility.
I had my fingers crossed for more Logan Echolls in book II, and Rob Thomas & Jennifer Graham delivered beautifully. Just like Veronica, I have difficulty at times getting used to this "grown up Logan", but I'm still TEAM LOGAN all the way. They seem to fit better than ever and I can't wait to see what the future holds for them (so yes, I am expecting a third novel, Rob).
Not only do we get to see some brilliant Mars-detective work, we also see the wonderful Mac in action. Add some public humiliation for the Sheriff's department and Lamb and we've got a winner!
The case Veronica is working on seems to have more questions than answers, but Veronica doesn't let go. She feels responsible for the victim and she's not planning on stopping before the perp is behind bars. It's an incredibly thrilling case with a lot of loose ends, an elusive perp and a victim who's full of surprises herself, again set in Neptune where the class -war and corruption are the daily reality. But will there be a change soon?
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