Excerpt of Mint Cookie Murder by Leslie Langtry

As a former CIA operative, I've heard a lot of statements
that have chilled me as though I had a foot-long icicle
down my throat while sitting naked and wet on an ice
floe. (By the way—don't go to Greenland. Ever.) Things
like, Open up! It's the police, and we have a
flamethrower! and Tell me the code or I'll have to use
this pair of pliers on your eyelids. All terrifying under
normal circumstances, but throw in the Iranian secret
police or a Venezuelan death squad dressed as circus
clowns, and they have a smidge more gravitas.

But nothing…nothing compares to what I was just told.

"What do you mean we have to sell cookies?" I asked Kelly
with a slight tremble in my voice. "To people? On
purpose?"

My best friend and co-leader rolled her eyes. "Girl Scout
Cookies. Our troop has to sell them."

"Why on Earth would we want to do that?" I asked, backing
up against the kitchen wall. I was starting to regret
never having put in hidden panels with weapons around the
house. But then Kelly would just laugh at me if I pulled
a garrote on her.

"Because it's a fundraiser for us and for the Council."
She pointed to the stack of order forms and the colorful
brochure showing the prizes the girls get for selling so
many boxes. I started flipping through the flier. Tiny
pewter owls? Why does a little girl need one tiny pewter
owl? Unless the purpose is to melt it down into one tiny,
pewter bullet—then it sorta makes sense. And what's with
all the sticker books? Diabolical! I can only see a
child's access to 101 stickers turning into a nightmare
of epic proportions.