The will was very specific: one Victorian mansion, one chocolate shop, one set of skeleton keys.

The will did not mention the murder club. Or the murder.

Maris MacWhorter arrived on Cape Breton Island with one plan: sell the chocolate shop she'd just inherited from her ex-mother-in-law Eileen, collect the check, and get back to civilization. She did not plan on the asthmatic dog named Angus MacBagpipe, or the book club that wasn't a book club. She did not plan on her nine-year-old daughter Bea—already a fluent reader of Tana French—treating Eileen's death as her first real case. And she really did not plan on the growing suspicion that Bea might be right: that Eileen's fall from the coastal cliffs wasn't an accident at all.

The Chocolate Shop Murder Club meets every Thursday. They read mysteries. They occasionally solve the crimes no one else will touch—by watching, as they put it, for who benefits, who lies, and who refuses the cookies. And they have decided, somewhat democratically, that Maris is their newest member—whether she likes it or not.

Now Maris is stranded on Cape Breton Island for the winter, running a business she doesn't want, in a town where the 'food scene' is four fudge shops and a Tim Hortons, and a rabble of well-read retirees is the closest thing to a homicide squad.

Someone murdered Eileen. Someone scrawled 'Good Riddance' on the shop window before Maris ever arrived—and spray-painted a threat across the door the moment she started asking questions. And the longer Maris stays, the more she suspects the same person is behind both—and that whoever silenced Eileen isn't done yet.

Perfect for fans of Richard Osman and Janice Hallett. A wickedly funny mystery rooted in a Nova Scotia town so small everybody knows everything—except, apparently, who did it.

Murder Most Un-Canadian

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