Fowl Campaign

Silver Hills Cozy Mysteries Book 8

Come to Silver Hills. Where fowl plans can either mean dinner out, or the deadly designs of a chicken-livered killer.

When Vlad’s opponent for the Silver City mayoral race succumbs to fowl deeds, he seriously changes the pecking order in Vlad’s favor. But the victim’s death has made Vlad king of the roost, so the Silver Hills night manager quickly becomes the obvious suspect.

Plucky investigators Flo and Co. are certainly no strangers to Vlad’s evil ways. But they’re also not egg-xactly convinced he did it. So, when Flo learns that the victim, a wealthy local chicken farmer, had been trying to reach her when he was killed, she’s more than a little curious why.

Will their investigation shine a light on a killer’s fowl deeds before he flies the coop? Or will Flo chicken out when the villain threatens to go all cock-a-doodle-do on her bad self? There’s only one way to find out. And you already know what it is…

 Yep, Flo and Co. are goin’ in, tail feathers high!

More from this series

Praise for Fowl Campaign

Chris's Reviews


I just adore these ladies. I aspire to be like them when I reach their age. Even their pets have fascinating personalities. I faithfully get each book because I enjoy them so much and they bring laughter and fun into my life. I highly recommend them all."

Bev's Review

"You really must read this book! It is written so painfully funny! I have read other books by this author but not this series. I have to re-think my TBR list to add this series in it! Can Flo and Co. find the killer or will he or she fly south for the winter, to never be seen again?"

Janet's Review

"This series is so cute and funny! One of the best lines in the book... 
“Really?” Agnes snorted out. “You’re going to use the ‘you’re not the boss of me’ defense?” She shook her head. “I can see why Vlad pays you the big bucks.”

Read an Excerpt

Flo, Agnes, and Celia stood on the sidewalk with their mouths hanging open. The big bus lumbered noisily by, its side befouled by a giant banner that said, Vote for Vlad, with a picture of the Silver Hills night manager’s hated face.

“Why is he orange?” Agnes asked, frowning.

“They must have used spray tan to take away that undead look,” Flo speculated. She shook her head as the monstrosity wound its way down Main Street and turned at the next light. “It’s like we’re living in an alternate universe.”

Celia nodded. “I saw one of his campaign commercials this morning.” She turned her frown to Flo. “It said he was Woke. What does that even mean?”

“It means his writers have poor English,” Flo mused.

“Maybe it’s a Vamp thing,” Agnes added. “You know, beware villagers, the vampire is woke. Grab the pitchforks.”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t what it means, Agnes,” Celia said with a smile.

“I know one thing, I was woke too early this morning,” Agnes grumbled. “I’m tired.”

“The trash truck?” Flo asked. Unfortunately for Agnes, the dumpsters for the residence were right outside her window and every Tuesday they woke her up at five AM. Her friend definitely looked tired. She had purple arcs beneath her expressive gray eyes and her graying brown pageboy hairstyle was rumpled looking, as if she’d done a lot of tossing and turning.

Flo resisted the urge to smooth her own, freshly dyed blonde bouff as she gave Agnes a sympathetic look. She had shadows under her hazel eyes too. Flo’s circles were from lying awake worrying about the rift between her and her friend TC.

“I’d complain again to Richard but it won’t do any good,” Agnes murmured.

“You’re the weekend manager,” Celia said quite reasonably. “Can’t you make a new rule or something? Maybe request a schedule change?”

“I’ve tried. But Tuesday’s aren’t my days and Richard insists he’s tried to move the time. They aren’t budging.”

“I think I’d be tempted to move to another apartment,” Celia said. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Me too!” Agnes lamented, running her hands through the air in front of her six-foot-tall, widely-made form. “You don’t think all this beauty comes easy, do you?”

Celia chuckled.

“Easily,” Flo corrected. “Oh, look.”

They all turned their focus across the street, where an attractive, dark-haired young woman was standing with her back to them, pretending to read a flyer that was taped to the window. She was clearly observing them in the reflection of the glass at Cooper’s Beauty Products.

“She’s watching us again,” Agnes said on a frown. “It’s kind of creepy.”

Flo felt like crying. “TC’s not creepy, Agnes. She’s just struggling.” Flo waved and TC ducked her head, hurrying on down the street as if she hadn’t seen them.

“It’s her own fault,” Celia said in her customary hardline way. “She’s the one keeping herself away.”

“Maybe she needs to be Woke,” Agnes observed, pursing her lips.

Flo started off down the street. “Woke my narrow behind. That’s just a misuse of the language if you ask me.”

“I think it means you like transvestites.”

Celia and Flo stopped in their tracks and looked at Agnes in shock. “Why in the world would Vlad have a campaign commercial saying he likes transvestites?”

Agnes shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe Dave Potts is really a woman.”

Potts was running against Vlad for the position of Mayor of Silver City. Since he went about three hundred pounds and had more hair on his face than most men had on their entire bodies, it seemed unlikely he was actually a woman.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Flo told her friend.

“I think it means you like gays,” Celia offered.

“Potts could be gay,” Agnes offered as they stepped off the curb and crossed the street to the Silver Hills Senior and Singles Residence. 

“Even if he is,” Flo countered. “Why would Vlad proclaim he liked him in a campaign commercial?”

“To grab the gay constituency, of course.” Agnes said. Then she frowned. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Though I guess Vlad could be gay too. His great, great, great ancestor was kind of Metro Sexual-ish if you ask me.”

Celia, having less experience with Agnes’ contorted thought processes, frowned. “Metro Sexuals aren’t gay, Agnes. Well, not completely.”

Flo sighed. “She’s talking about Dracula.”

“Ah.” Celia grinned. “Vlad does kind of look like Count Dracula.”

“The cereal or the actor?” Agnes asked with a grin.