AustLit

'A smart, sassy self-appointed private investigator, Cass Tuplin is unforgettable and the town of Rusty Bore will never be the same...

Cass Tuplin's takeaway isn't the last shop left in Rusty Bore. There's also Vern's General Store. But it's true the town's not exactly overflowing with residents, and a stranger in Cass's shop is quite an event. Especially one like Clarence: suspicious, bleeding, looking for a burger with the lot and somewhere quiet to stay. Cass knows just the place. Then she finds out more about Clarence and wants him out of town, but it turns out that's not as easy as it sounds.

And then she finds the body.

It sounds like a job for the local police. Except that the local police is Cass's son Dean, who has his doubts about Cass. And there's no way he's expending police resources on his mother's fantasy crimes, not anymore. So it looks like Cass is going to have to find the killer on her own.' (Publisher's blurb)

'Dead men don’t order flake. But that’s exactly what Leo Stone asked for the April afternoon he strolled in, his gladiator shoulders filling up my shop doorway. ‘Leo?’ I grabbed the glass counter for support. Twenty-odd years ago we had a top-notch memorial service for Leo. Every one of Rusty Bore’s hundred and forty-seven residents made it. ‘Been a while, hey Cass?’

'ON the night Leo Stone returns—notionally from the dead, in reality from the Democratic Republic of the Congo—Cass Tuplin gets a call from Gary Kellett. A call about an actual dead person: Gary’s daughter, killed in a car crash. But Gary’s convinced it wasn’t an accident.

'Cass agrees to investigate. After all, she’s not just Rusty Bore’s only purveyor of fine fast food. She’s also the closest thing to a private detective within a couple of hundred k’s. The local police (Cass’s son Dean) try to warn her off, believing Gary’s a delusional grieving father. Is that the case? Or did a young journalist die after asking too many questions?

'Cass intends to find out. As soon as she’s dealt with some queries raised by the reappearance of Leo Stone.' (Publication summary)

'Vern slung his crocodile-skin bag up onto my counter. ‘Twelve of the bastards in there. Counted ’em myself.’ I tried but failed to avert my gaze from the bag. It smelled: not a good smell. And really not the kind of smell you welcome in a quality food establishment.

'FOR Cass Tuplin, proprietor of the Rusty Bore Takeaway (and definitely not an unlicensed private investigator), it’s weird enough that her neighbour Vern has somehow acquired a lady friend. But then he asks Cass to look into the case of the dead rats someone’s dumped on Joanne’s doorstep.

'She’s barely started when Joanne goes missing, leaving hints of an unsavoury past. Then a private investigator from Melbourne turns up asking questions about Joanne’s involvement in a fatal house fire— and before you can say ‘unauthorised investigation’ Cass is back on the case.' (Publication summary)