Alma didn’t want Isabel to start singing the praises of their pet, a rescue beagle, or she wouldn’t shush until sundown.

“I’ve found the missing lady,” Alma said. “Say welcome home, Betsy Sweet.

She craved a tall glass of the fresh-squeezed lemonade from the pitcher she’d left chilling in the fridge. Two glasses served with a generous slice of pound cake with orange glaze icing sounded twice as nice.

Within the same hour as the murder took place, Isabel Trumbo sat in her armchair dozing, the Alaskan Outdoor magazine on her lap. Her kid sister Alma fidgeted in the other armchair, from time to time picking up her newspaper folded over to the day’s crossword puzzle.

Quote is taken from Chapter 1:

Since Etta could log in her rare Baltimore oriole sighting, she decided she’d had enough birding for one day. It was just a fun hobby, not an obsession.

The busy snoops like us can leave no stone unturned," Alma said.

Quote taken from Chapter 1:

A grave matter has just arisen.” Etta hadn’t intended to make the pun. She went on. “It’s a problem right up your alley.