Autumn is in full swing for the town of Shady Palms—the perfect time for warm drinks, cozy cardigans, and…dead bodies? The annual Shady Palms Corn Festival is one of the town’s biggest moneymakers, drawing crowds from all over the Midwest looking to partake in delicious treats, local crafts, and of course, the second largest corn maze in Illinois. Lila Macapagal and her Brew-ha Cafe crew, Adeena Awan and Elena Torres, are all too happy to participate in the event and even make a little wager on who can make it through the corn maze the fastest—but their fun is suddenly cut short when a dead body is found in the middle of the maze…and an unconscious Adeena lies next to it, clutching a bloody knife. The body is discovered to be a local politician’s wife, and all signs—murder weapon included—point to Adeena as the culprit. But Lila knows her best friend couldn’t have done this, so she and her crew put on their sleuthing caps yet again to find the killer who framed Adeena and show them what happens when they mess with a Brew-ha… "A good bet for fireside reading on a fall night.”— Publishers Weekly “The plot has satisfying twists to go along with the mouth-watering food.” — Booklist “This exhilarating, cozy mystery beautifully weaves themes of friendship, loyalty and the indomitable spirit of small-town life amid the thrill of a chilling whodunit.”— Seattle Times Mia P. Manansala (she/her) is an award-winning writer and book coach from Chicago who loves books, baking, and badass women. She uses humor (and murder) to explore aspects of the Filipino diaspora, queerness, and her millennial love for pop culture. A lover of all things geeky, Mia spends her days procrastibaking, playing JRPGs and dating sims, reading cozy mysteries and diverse romance, and cuddling her dogs, Gumiho and Max Power. Chapter One Welcome to the thirty-fifth annual Shady Palms Corn Festival!" Mayor Gunderson raised the corn cob scepter in his right hand as he looked over the crowd at the opening ceremony of the town's beloved Corn Festival. His wife stood to the side and slightly behind him, dressed in a complementary costume as the town's reigning Corn Queen: a long yellow dress with a lavish green cape about her shoulders and a crown whose points resembled ears of corn atop her head. I enjoyed a good spectacle as much as the next person, but considering how much the mayor loved the sound of his own voice, I tuned out the rest of his speech as I finished preparing the Brew-ha Cafe booth. My best friend and business partner, Adeena Awan, was still setting up the drinks station where she'd be serving her usual house blend coffee, as well as the atole, ginataang mais latte, and oksusu cha that she'd added to the special festival menu. Elena Torres, our other business partner and Adeena's girlfriend, was filling the compostable tea bags with the roasted corn we used for the oksusu cha and arranging the corn husk crafts that she and her mother had prepared. My boyfriend, Dr. Jae Park, was joining the Brew-ha crew that weekend as our resident grill master. Elena came up with the idea of a fusion elote, taking her beloved Mexican street corn and adding Pakistani and Filipino twists to match with Adeena's and my respective backgrounds. Not only did Jae give us his mother's recipe for the oksusu cha, or Korean corn tea, but he'd also volunteered to handle all elote duties: slathering the corn with thick, creamy coconut milk before rolling it in a fragrant spice mix that included amchur powder and red chili powder, grilling it, then squeezing calamansi over the corn before sprinkling it with your choice of kesong puti or cotija cheese. It was a simple yet laborious task, but he seemed to enjoy himself (I wasn't one for gender stereotypes, but what was with guys and grills?) and I'd caught him sneaking more than one smoky, salty treat as he worked. The benefit of being the cook. Meanwhile, I arranged the sweet offerings I'd prepared: mais ube sandwich cookies, mais kon keso bars, and two types of ice candy-mais kon yelo and ginataang mais. Corn as a dessert ingredient may seem strange to some people, but Filipinos absolutely love and embrace corn in all its salty-sweet possibilities. My first offering sandwiched ube buttercream between corn cookies, the purple yam's subtle vanilla-like sweetness pairing well with the salty-sweet corn. Cheese and corn are a popular savory pairing, but guess what? It makes one of my absolute favorite Filipino ice cream flavors as well, and I channeled that classic combo into a cheesecake bar with a corn cookie crust. Mais kon yelo, literally corn with ice, is a Filipino dessert consisting of shaved ice with corn, sugar, and milk, while ginataang mais, a simple porridge made with coconut milk, glutinous rice, and sweet corn, is usually served warm for breakfast or meryenda. My take on these simple, refreshing snacks utilized those same flavors in a portable, easy-to-eat ice pop bag. However, if you wan