Missed the Murder Went to Yoga

I’ll admit, I side-eyed the title *Missed the Murder Went to Yoga* at first—it sounds like a rejected *Murder, She Wrote* episode pitched by someone who’d had three espressos. But five minutes into Tom Lennon’s narration, I was hooked. His Milo Rathkey is the ideal guide: a guy who’s equal parts Columbo and your sarcastic uncle, the kind of detective who’d solve a case just to avoid another book club meeting. Lennon’s timing is impeccable, especially when delivering Milo’s asides (*“I’d like to say I noticed the murder weapon first, but honestly, I was distracted by Carol’s *aggressive* use of lavender oil.”*). The production is clean, though I’d kill for a slightly richer bass in the mix—some of the quieter dialogue gets lost if you’re listening in a noisy space. The story itself is a masterclass in misdirection. Elrogg litters the plot with red herrings that feel organic, not forced: a missing will, a rival lawyer with a suspiciously pristine alibi, and a yoga instructor whose namaste vibes hide a cutthroat streak. The “yellow” clue isn’t just a gimmick—it’s a thread that unravels into something surprisingly layered, tying into the victim’s past in a way that feels earned. My only gripe? The romance subplot with Milo’s ex-wife fizzles more than it pops, and the final confrontation drags a beat too long. But the payoff—a twist that hinges on a *library book due date*—is so delightfully petty and perfect that I forgave it. If you like your cozies with a side of snark and a dash of actual stakes, this is your book. Just maybe skip the downward dog while listening—trust me, the tension’s better upright.