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'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)
Dedication: For Ross
