by: Carmela Dutra
Series: Food Truck Mystery
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Release Date: September 9, 2025
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books
A food truck run by twins serves up a clucking good murder in this cozy debut mystery, perfect for fans of Lucy Burdette and Joanne Fluke.
When their late aunt Dolly passes away, twins Beth and Seth Lloyd inherit a chicken themed food truck. Despite the challenges, the siblings rise to the occasion, even going as far as signing up their truck Kluckin’ Good to compete on a top cooking show and ruffle a few feathers for some good publicity. But the competition goes from heated to lethal when a contestant is found dead.
With the elimination competition becoming far too literal, Beth and Seth will need all the help they can get to get out of the frying pan without landing in the fire. With their loyal assistant–and Beth’s best friend–Rylie by their side, they’ll have to follow the bread crumbs to untangle a very twisted case before either one of them is put on the chopping block.
This humorous series debut with a mouthwatering mystery will charm readers and keep them guessing right until the not-so-bitter end.
Beth: Hi! We’re great, thanks so much for having us. Well, mostly great. I’ve had three cups of coffee, but a fourth would make it better. Two apple fritters, and zero run-ins with murder this morning, so we’re off to a solid start.
Seth: Speak for yourself. One of those fritters was mine. And are you serious? A fourth cup? You’re going to be bouncing off the doors of my car. Everyone, please pray for me.
Oh my gosh, you guys! I don’t even know where to start. Okay, please introduce yourselves to readers.
Beth: I’m Beth Lloyd, 28, the older twin, and I’m the proud owner of—
Seth: Co-owner.
Beth:—Kluckin’ Good, our beloved chicken-themed food truck.
Seth: That we inherited alphabetically. B comes before S. That’s the only reason you’re listed first.
Beth: Still counts. Anyway, before taking over the truck from our Aunt Dolly, I worked a bunch of random jobs: retail, barista, dog walker. Don’t ask. Actually, do ask, because the story about the missing Yorkie on the light rail is legendary.
Seth: I’m Seth Lloyd, also 28—Beth’s younger twin by two minutes but her older brother by, what, 22 birthdays?
Beth: No one is interested in this story.
Seth: I disagree. Beth was born on Leap Day. I’ve had a birthday every year, like a normal human. You’ve had… maybe six?
Beth: Seven! Seven official birthdays. I still age like everyone else. I just do it with flair. And fewer balloons.
Seth: Tell that to the bouncer you tried convincing you were 21 when your ID said you were five.
Beth: I was creative. Also, I got in. Eventually.
Seth: Anyway, I used to be a full-time attorney, but after a serious case of burnout, I scaled back. Now I split my time helping Beth run the food truck and offering legal services to the good citizens of Clementine. My hobbies include hiking, biking, organizing legal files, and trying to keep Beth out of handcuffs.
Beth: And my hobbies include reading, watching reality television, and walking from the freezer to the couch while doing arm curls with pints of mint chip.
Oh my gosh. I love you guys. How do you like owning and operating a food truck?
Beth: I love it. The rush of the lunch crowd, the smell of frying chicken, the joy of inventing sauce names like “Kluck It.” It’s chaos and creativity and grease in my hair—everything I’ve ever wanted.
Seth: I like it… most days. I handle all the boring stuff: permits, contracts, inventory spreadsheets—basically anything Beth says gives her hives. I also help cook when we’re slammed.
Beth: Don’t let his modesty fool you. Seth’s a whiz at slingin’ wings.
Seth: But I draw the line at wearing the chicken costume. Once was enough. And the legs were too short.
Beth: For the record, he looked adorable.
Seth: For the record, I have never felt more humiliated in my life.
Can you please tell us about some people we’ll meet in your story?
Beth: Of course. There’s my best friend and assistant, Rylie Cortez. She’s sharp, fearless, and always ready to join me in one of my ideas.
Seth: Hair-brained ideas, you mean. Who hires someone who once boiled water dry to work on a food truck?
Beth: None of your business, that’s who. Look, Rylie can’t cook to save her life, but she’s loyal, scrappy, and knows how to calm down a hangry crowd faster than you can say “Kluck It.” And she rocks a chicken suit like it’s couture.
Seth: Great. So she’s the hype woman, and you’re the chef/chaos engine.
Beth: Exactly. Teamwork makes the drumsticks work.
Seth: Please never say that again.
Seth: On the investigative side, you’ll meet Officer Kane. He’s officially in charge of the cooking show murder investigation. Very by-the-book, very suspicious of Beth, who may or may not have referred to him—out loud—as Officer Pretty Boy.
Beth: That was supposed to be an internal monologue, okay?
Seth: She also has the “hots” for him.
Beth: I do not! Sure, he has dreamy eyes, and I imagine those strong, muscular arms make for delicious hugs, but that does not mean I have the hots for him. And the nickname was an accident. No one was supposed to hear that.
Seth: Except literally everyone did. Including him.
Beth: Moving on! His partner, Jerry Hamstead, is a lot more relaxed and chatty. He’s like a human golden retriever—he semi-listens and doesn’t treat me like a walking crime scene.
Seth: Then there’s the eight competing food truck teams, starting with Benji Mayew—
Beth: Ugh!
Seth: Her nemesis.
Beth: He is not my nemesis. I’m not a Bond villain. I don’t sit around stroking a cat and plotting revenge. He’s just an entitled jack—um—jerk who steals parking spots, poaches customers, and is the reason I was arrested in front of a crowd while wearing a full chicken costume.
Seth: Benji’s death is what kicks off the mystery. The competition heats up, secrets bubble to the surface, and suddenly everyone has a motive. Who knew fried chicken could be so… deadly?
Beth: It’s cutthroat out here. Literally. Come for the wings, stay for the whodunnit.
Seth: And then there’s Willa Garza.
Beth: She’s almost as bad as Benji.
Seth: *Sighs* Here we go again.
Beth: Willa is condescending, fake. I swear, every time she opens her mouth, my left eyelid twitches.
Seth: Is there anyone on this show you actually like?
Beth: I like people just fine. I like Loretta and Ella Mae. They run Porked ‘n’ Rubbed and make the best BBQ west of Texas. Those two could charm the stripes off a tiger and still have time to whip up cornbread for ten. I’d trust them with my smoker and my secrets.
Seth: You’ve also been quoting them daily. You said, “Well, butter my biscuit” to a health inspector last week.
Beth: He smiled, didn’t he?
Seth: He winced.
Beth: Whatever. I also like the Dough Brothers. Those guys are sweethearts. Just because I don’t like annoying people doesn’t mean I’m antisocial.
Seth: So to summarize: Beth likes retirees and bakers. Everyone else is on thin ice.
Beth: Especially you, Seth.
Lol. What’s your most prized possession?
Beth: Aunt Dolly’s cast-iron skillet. Her name is Laverne. She’s seasoned to perfection and can double as a blunt object in case of sabotage. Not that I’m speaking from experience.
Seth: My dog-eared copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. It got me through law school and reminds me that truth and justice still matter.
What can readers expect from A Murder Most Fowl?
Beth: Murder, mystery, mayhem, and a lot of fried chicken. It’s like Only Murders in the Building meets The Great Food Truck Race, but with more grease and slightly more unhinged contestants.
Seth: There’s fast-paced sleuthing, small-town charm, reality TV drama, and a sibling duo who bicker like it’s their full-time job.
Beth: Because it is.
Seth: *Shoulder shrug*
Beth: Readers can expect quirky characters, simmering secrets, plot twists, and a whole lot of me trying to clear my name while the cops give me side-eye. Also: chicken puns. So many chicken puns.
Seth: And yes, Beth insists on investigating even when she absolutely should not. Even dragging Rylie along with her.
Beth: I’m just saying, if you don’t want me sticking my nose in things, don’t hide the clues in plain sight. Besides, Rylie is totally up for anything. She’s the best friend to help bury the body first and ask questions second. Metaphorically, of course…
Thank you both so much for your time.
Beth: Thanks for having us! If you’re ever in Clementine, swing by the historical City Hall. Our truck is parked there every Wednesday and Friday with Rylie outside passing out samples. The first basket of wings is on me!
Seth: And I’ll be there, coffee in hand, probably reminding her not to interrogate suspects while handing them ranch dressing.
Beth: Multitasking is a skill, Seth.
Opening pages in Which Our FMC Gets Arrested in a Chicken Suit.
“All right, Big Bird. On your feet. Let’s go.” The officer who arrested me is standing in front of my cage. “Someone’s here for you.” His keys rattle against the bars as he unlocks my improvised coop.
I step over the cell’s threshold when I remember my head. “Wait a sec.” Scrambling back inside, I retrieve the top of my costume.
As we walk in silence down the hallway, the officer steals glances at me. I assume it’s not every day he has the chance to arrest a giant chicken. But that’s not all I notice. This officer is tall and has strong, broad shoulders and soft strawberry-blond locks—the kind you want to run your fingers through. Or, in my case, a chicken wing. Officer Pretty Boy is easy to look at, and I sneak just as many glances his way. Only mine are not so subtle because, well, I’m Beth, and nothing I do is subtle.
A deep clearing of a throat draws me out of my thoughts, and I see Officer Pretty Boy staring at me. Oh god, I’m not walking. At some point, I’ve stopped to lean against a wall and gawk at him.
Get it together, Beth. This man just arrested you. He’s your nemesis.
“Ms. Lloyd, if you’ll follow me.”
“How do you know my name?” I spring off the wall as gracefully as possible. In retrospect, I should have moved a little slower, because I lose my balance and fall forward into my escort, wings flapping.
Officer Pretty Boy grabs me as I fall into him. His muscular arms lift my chicken body into a standing position. “It’s my job to know who I’m bringing to the station. Plus, I met your brother. He’s waiting just through there.” He points toward a set of double doors.
“Of course. I knew that,” I say, trying to maintain some dignity. But it’s becoming harder the longer I’m here. “Lead the way, Officer Pretty Boy.”
Oh god. Did I just say that out loud?
“Officer Pretty Boy?” another voice says. Another officer laughs at the man hauling me out of here. “Has a nice ring to it. Perhaps we found a nickname for you after all.” The guy gives Officer Pretty Boy a hard slap on the back before he walks away, chuckling to himself.
I peek up at Officer Pretty Boy and his arched brow, but he says nothing. Instead, he walks toward the double doors, expecting me to follow. If the chicken suit had a tail, I’d tuck it between my legs.
“There’s my chicken of a twin!” says Seth with his arms wide open as I push through the double doors. Seeing my brother, I burst into a sprint. “Wow, slow down, Beth. You’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”
“Really? You’re making chicken jokes right now?” I stamp my foot at him.
“Don’t stomp your drumstick at me, young lady.”
“Can we just get out of here while I still have a shred of dignity left?”
“Ms. Lloyd!” Officer Pretty Boy calls out after me.
“Yeah, I think that ship has sailed.” My twin points over my shoulder.
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After years of working on her award-winning indie children’s picture books, she transitioned into crafting cozy mysteries filled with emotion, humor and heart.
When she’s not penning her latest tale, Carmela enjoys sketching, sipping copious amounts of coffee, and over-cuddling her allergy-inducing cats and dog. She shares her life with her best friend and husband, raising two dinosaur-obsessed sons. A lover of alternative rock, Carmela often writes to its rhythm and finds comfort in rewatching The Big Bang Theory and M*A*S*H.
Places to find Carmela Dutra:
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I liked the excerpt.
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