Play Dead is a grand guignol melodrama. An impossibly glossy and beautiful young couple – David is a basketball star and Laura a top model turned international fashion designer — elope and honeymoon in Australia. After a few idyllic days, she goes off to a business meeting and he goes swimming – then missing, presumed dead. A few rags chewed by a shark come into it, inevitably.
Laura returns devastated to the USA after fruitlessly trying to find out what happened to David with the help of his mentor, ex-policeman “T.J.” She’s determined not to let things lie, so while running her business (going into work once, looking at some designs and adjusting the length of the skirts) she discovers more about David’s circumstances. We find out about her family – Gloria, her sister, who is a recovering drug addict; her neurotic mother; and her workaholic surgeon father. David’s disappearance or death are related to a murder that happened years ago. Gradually, Laura zeroes in on this, despite T. J.’s strange attempts to put her off the track. David’s evil brother Stan turns up at the funeral, determined to make a buck out of Laura, soon switching his attention to damaged Gloria.
I can’t bear to write any more – the novel is very readable in a “chick lit” kind of way. It is entirely devoid of realistic detail and almost completely predictable, but at the same time it has glimpses of how the author has developed since he wrote it. The plot turns out to be both blindingly obvious and totally ludicrous – nobody’s motivation stacks up for a second, and people do the most convoluted things for years, for no reason I can discern. I only read this book because I was going on holiday and wanted a light read: though I enjoyed it a little bit, my main reaction is to feel silly for having bothered with it.