Death Doesn't Drink Decaf

Nobody wants Death on their doorstep. Ask me how I know.

I'm Danica Death, and as the local tax collector, the only thing I bring to the residents of Palmetto Holler is grief, and possibly a follow-up to unpaid property taxes. I'm used to the cold shoulders and the iced tea that never gets offered. It's their loss, because I'm fabulous. Just ask Tempest, my opinionated crow.

When a dead man leaves behind a property full of secrets that's valued higher than it should be, I follow the paper trail straight into a missing persons case that someone very much wants to stay cold.

Between my estranged husband walking back into my life and someone firing literal warning shots in my direction, I'm starting to think this situation holds more danger than a delinquent tax bill.

But I've got grit, enough caffeine in my system to show up on a DNA test, and a gossiping crow looking over my shoulder. Now I just have to make sure the end of this mystery doesn't find me six feet under in the local graveyard.