Rhubarb Pie Before You Die

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the ‘city slicker inherits a farm’ premise—until Mabel Skinner opened her mouth. Within five minutes of Callie Beaulieu’s narration, I was sold. Beaulieu nails Mabel’s mix of exhaustion and reluctant curiosity, her voice tightening with sarcasm when Mabel dismisses ‘farm vibes’ as ‘just dirt and regret,’ then softening into something almost vulnerable when she admits she doesn’t know how to use a pressure canner. The audiobook’s production is clean, but it’s the *performance* that elevates it: Beaulieu gives each side character a distinct quirk (the local cop’s folksy drawl, the victim’s smug entitlement) without overdoing it, so the listen feels like eavesdropping on a town where everyone’s hiding something. The mystery itself is cleverly plotted, with red herrings that feel organic to the setting—a missing heirloom seed collection, a suspiciously well-timed tractor ‘accident’—though the mid-book pacing drags slightly during Mabel’s deep dives into farm finances (a realistic touch, but not exactly edge-of-your-seat stuff). Where *Rhubarb Pie* truly shines is in its tone: Jones walks the line between cozy and darkly funny, like if *Knives Out* were set at a 4H fair. My only real critique? The romance subplot feels tacked on, a rare misstep in an otherwise tightly written story. But the final act’s twist—delivered with Beaulieu’s perfect ‘oh hell no’ inflection—more than makes up for it. If you love mysteries with humor, heart, and a heroine who’d rather solve a bug than a murder (but ends up doing both), this is your next listen.