Bonnie Hardy’s Dead Drop in Lily Rock drops me into town alongside Avery Denning, sunburned, scruffy, and freshly unmoored after a Palos Verdes fire burns her house down and shoves her onto the Pacific Crest Trail. She’s looking for nothing more complicated than a safe bed for the Fourth of July weekend when she collides with Stella Rawlins’s death at a bright-blue little free library: a rustle in the hedge, a flash, the sulfur bite of a firecracker, and then Stella’s terrible, sudden nothing. What starts as shock hardens into a question Avery can’t put down, especially once the town’s book-obsessed social web (including the Switchback Syndicate, devotees of “older classics” for new readers) begins to look less quaint and more… curated.

I enjoyed the book’s comfort-layering: the setting is cozy, like a mug you can wrap both hands around. Hardy lets the town charm do real work, Mayor Maguire isn’t just “a dog,” he’s a small-time celebrity labradoodle politician on Stella’s bookmarks, a detail so specific it feels lived-in rather than staged. And the dialogue has bite. Officer Janis “Jets” Jets is the kind of cop who’d rather arrest you, eat lunch, and get back to crowd control than listen to anyone emote, and her sarcasm becomes its own local weather system. I was smiling at the brusque tenderness underneath it all: people in Lily Rock needle each other the way families do, affection disguised as a shove.

The second thing that hooked me was how the book treats “a book” not as decoration but as evidence. The recurring children’s title Are You My Mother? isn’t a cute motif. It’s a bruise Stella keeps being forced to touch, tied to adoption and a past she thought she’d settled. When Avery starts finding multiple copies scattered through Stella’s house, it lands as genuinely eerie, like someone has been trying to speak in a language made of paper and repetition. The late-stage revelations snap satisfyingly into place: surveillance footage, a sabotaged “shower deck,” and, finally, an unambiguous face in the after-flash, Cordelia Pratt, firecracker in hand. It’s a clean kind of catharsis, made sharper because the motive lives in obsession and secrecy rather than moustache-twirling villainy.

If you like your mysteries with warmth in the margins, and you don’t mind a little darkness under the bunting, this one’s for you: cozy mystery, small-town mystery, amateur sleuth, bookish mystery, murder mystery. The series framing is right up front (Avery Denning, Lily Rock, Book 1), so it reads like an invitation as much as a standalone case. In spirit, it sits closer to an Agatha Christie village puzzle than a gritty procedural. Dead Drop in Lily Rock shows that a murder mystery can be comforting when the clues feel human, and the town feels real.

Pages: 302 | ISBN: 1954995520