Hey, y’all—I’m Tucker Frye, pub mistress and transplanted Southerner, minding my bar and my business here in Iowa. Then my nephew, an undercover animal rights activist, was murdered right in my backyard. I’ve got the evidence that might prove who killed him and it might put that god-forsaken operation out of business. First I need to figure out who I can trust, and that might be tough because as my daddy always said, good men are harder to find than deviled eggs after a church picnic. But I think John Smalley might be a keeper, and Alan Dale, too. With their help, maybe I can make Fitz Agribusiness pay for my nephew’s death. Or maybe I’ll die trying …
