Poison and Pooches – Sandra Balzo’s New Arial Kingston Mystery Series

Last Updated on April 22, 2026

Stepping into Sandra Balzo’s Poison and Pooches, the debut of her new series introducing Arial Kingston – dog-sitter, accidental sleuth, and fresh owner of a Monterey guesthouse – you’d be forgiven for expecting a standard cozy mystery romp.

Perhaps you imagine Arial frolicking with a pack of mischievous pups and a whiff of murder on the salty California air. Maybe there’s a canine sidekick who does some of the heavy investigative lifting. Not so.

What you get is a story that gleefully sidesteps those expectations, for better and for worse.

If you, like me, devour mysteries with cute pets, tangled family trees, and a dash of gentle humour, you’ll find moments here that genuinely shine.

However, there are also some that might leave you scratching your head and consulting a family tree, or possibly a copy editor.

Meet Arial

Let’s set the stage: Arial Mayes Kingston (she hasn’t actually decided if she’s going to use the ‘Mayes’ family name yet) has just inherited not just a house but a whole situation.

Her Great-grandmother has died and, skipping two generations, has left her estate, including a Monterey guesthouse, to 25-year-old Arial.

When said guesthouse needs a termite fumigation, Chris the lodger (more about him later), must move into the main house and co-habit with Arial.

With few friends, her only real companion is the adorable Monty (her first, and, as it turns out, only dog-sitting client).

The novelty of homeownership fades fast with the discovery of a body beneath the guest house, forcing Arial not so much into Nancy Drew territory as into mild home renovation horror crossed with a slow-cooked mystery.

At this point, you might be reaching for your notepad to keep track of the suspects, or at least to jot down why there aren’t more dogs, considering the title.

Monterey is a picturesque backdrop, but the guesthouse itself is more haunted by real estate woes than by ghosts or gossiping neighbours.

The termite fumigation ordeal takes up a surprising amount of early page-space, setting the tone that this book isn’t in a hurry.

In fact, the first 20% or so is distinctly mystery-lite, focused more on Arial’s adjustment to her new home and the deeply unglamorous side of property management.

Whodunit? Or More To The Point: Who Was It?

Here’s where Poison and Pooches takes a turn from the usual cozy formula.

The real puzzle isn’t a straightforward case of connecting the victim to a suspect, but instead figuring out who the victim even is.

Balzo deftly keeps their identity under wraps almost as a misdirection, which makes for a refreshing change.

There’s something genuinely intriguing about a plot where the “whodunit” is trumped by the “who’s under the floorboards.”

It adds an air of suspense that lingers despite the book’s meandering pace. There are a couple of potential victims, but nothing concrete so it does keep you guessing.

Character Contraptions and Unanswered Questions

Here’s where I get a little bit more critical. Now, I would never completely rubbish a book, no matter how much I didn’t like it.

I’m fully aware of how difficult it is to put pen to paper and come up with something interesting and engaging, so kudos to any author who puts themselves out there.

I also know that just because a particular book isn’t for me, it doesn’t mean somebody else won’t absolutely love it.

All that said, there are quite a few issues with Poison and Pooches.

If you jump into this book expecting a seasoned sleuth with a fully unfurled family history, brace yourself.

I spent a good while convinced I’d missed an earlier series starring Arial when references pop up about her grandmother, mother, and life before Monterey.

But nope, there’s no other book, just vague musings about her life that are never given any context.

There’s also a convoluted tangle involving her lodger, Chris, who is her half-sister’s half-brother. If you can parse that on the first read, you have my respect.

I’ll explain it – Arial and her half-sister Melinda have the same father. Melinda and Chris have the same mother. So, Arial and Chris are not biologically related and only know each other through Melinda.

We never actually lay eyes on Melinda, who was apparently only discovered (by Arial) a year earlier – how, why, or where, the book remains silent.

This hinting at backstory without ever delivering it makes Arial feel, at times, like a secondary character in her own debut.

The vague references leave you itching for a prologue or, better yet, a proper introduction to her readers. It’s a missed opportunity, because even in the cozy subgenre, readers love a family saga almost as much as a well-plotted murder.

Professional Amateur Hour

For a dog-sitter, Arial’s career seems more theoretical than practical. She spends most of the story with a single client, Monty, the aforementioned pooch.

And unless those dog-sitting rates are astronomical, it’s a bit of a mystery how she pays the bills or gets any business, as she doesn’t advertise, post flyers, or even have much interaction with the local dog-walking set.

The titular “pooches” remain notably absent, which, in a genre that trades so heavily on charm and furry friends, is a bit like turning up to a bake sale and finding only rice cakes.

Then there’s her habit of sleeping on the sofa, a quirk that, with a little backstory, could be endearing or revealing. We do learn it’s a carryover from her childhood, but this is another thread left to dangle tantalizingly. Without explanation, it’s just a quirk for quirk’s sake.

Law Enforcement by Open Mic

One of the more unintentionally amusing aspects is Detective Dan Sotherly’s approach to investigative confidentiality.

Arial, the dog-sitter, not detective, is treated as an almost-equal, handed inside information as if the local PD has a transparency requirement for new homeowners.

It’s certainly convenient, less so for realism, but more for moving the story along. Their prior relationship is touched upon (they “met on her first visit to Monterey”), but we never learn why or how they’re so chummy.

In another world, Arial is probably Monterey’s Miss Marple, but here, she’s just in the right place with the right adorable dog at the right time.

A Case of Mistaken Identity (Twice)

As a fan of polished mysteries, I’ve got to flag perhaps the cardinal sin for any eagle-eyed reader: a couple of character name mix-ups.

Our local dad Robbie Henry is suddenly, for a moment or two, Robbie Aaron – Aaron is his son’s name! It happens not once but at least twice.

Editorial slip-ups jar you out of the story, and here, they’re especially noticeable given the already confusing family webs.

For a first book in a series, it’s not a death knell, but it is a little eyebrow-raising. I like a twist as much as anyone, but not in the cast list.

The Poison That Waits (and Waits… and Waits)

For a book called Poison and Pooches, one of those elements is missing in action until nearly the last few pages.

The poison doesn’t cross from the title into the action until you’re well over 95% through the story. Those looking for a tightly-plotted Chekhov’s gun will need patience.

The same can be said about the uncovering of the body; it’s a slow burn, with nearly a fifth of the book gone before there’s even a body to speak of.

If you relish a drawn-out mystery and like the details simmering quietly, you’re in for a gentle ride. If you want murder and (doggy) mayhem on page one, this one’s on a slower clock.

For Whom the Cozy Bell Tolls

If you’re after a classic seaside mystery feel, with crisp plotting, a bustling cast, and plenty of canine companions, you might come away puzzled, like I did.

The solid central premise with the identity of a long-hidden victim beneath a house is a genuine hook, and Sandra Balzo does a clever job building curiosity around that.

If your tastes lend themselves to mysteries that noodle around with family secrets, neighbourly squabbles, and the occasional moment of unexpected canine wisdom, you’ll see glimmers of what this series could become with a little tightening up.

But, full disclosure, what’s on offer in this first outing is a little muddled: a promising, original twist on the standard “whodunit,” somewhat lost amid character and plot tangles, missing backstory, and editing errors that matter more than they should.

You may be left wishing Arial had kept a tighter leash on the facts, and her friendly neighbourhood detective had kept a firmer grip on his case files.

For me, as much as I wanted to root for Arial, and believe me, I’ve got a soft spot for dog-walking sleuths with complicated families, I struggled to settle in.

Still, there’s potential here, and I’d be curious (if only mildly suspicious) to see where Arial goes next. Maybe with more dogs. And a little less fumigation.