"In a charming small town in Maine," where the police are utterly useless at catching murderers, "Callie is helping her great-aunt prepare a tea party for a wealthy widow’s will reading." Because we should all celebrate the death of rich old folk. "But when death turns up as an unexpected guest," they can't find anywhere for him to stash his scythe. What a calamity! "Can Callie and her great-aunt nab the killer?" Hell yes! They chase that son of a bitch down in a cross-country sprint over hill and dale, and nail his no-good murdering ass with a flying rugby tackle. No wonder the clueless Kirkus Reviews finds this "delightful." They would.