Welcome to the Maggie B. Casefiles
Because someone must keep standards. Even if it’s only for jam.
Meet Magda Beckos—Magda on paper, Maggie B. in the field.
She wasn’t meant to take notes on the Great Raspberry Scandal. Or the gnome turf war. Or that fraught casserole rota. But she did. And once you begin noticing, it turns out the village is full of things that don’t quite sit right.
Maggie isn’t a detective, not exactly. She’s a woman with a grey notebook, a background in filing systems, and a finely tuned radar for nonsense—particularly the perfumed, laminated, passive-aggressive sort that thrives under bunting and bylaws.
These aren’t murders. They’re not even crimes, most of the time. But something is always… off.
A jam that tastes more plum than raspberry.
A row of gnomes that shifts by moonlight.
A biscuit tin gone missing, Queen Victoria’s face with it.
A scarf that keeps moving from one shoulder to another, never quite finished.
Jelly babies turning up where grief leaks through.
An effigy mistaken for a man on a bench.
Each disruption is minor, almost laughably so. Yet behind the fuss and tea trays lie quieter reckonings: memory that won’t settle, grief folded away, inheritances no one asked for, and the ache of trying not to care when you very much do.
The Maggie B. Casefiles are part cozy comedy, part village chronicle, part study in what we withhold. A tribute to the rituals we keep, the stories we don’t tell, and the women who notice everything—especially when they’d rather not.
If you like wry humour, unspoken histories, and a heroine who carries her own pen, you’re in the right place.
Begin with a Case:
On jam, judgment, and things left to spoil.
![A Matter of Plot [Narrated]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!CEEB!,w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F971b08a9-67b3-4f9e-822e-ebc3415bca38_1456x816.png)
On gnomes, garden politics, and assigned positions
On loss, legacy, and the small evaporations we pretend not to notice.
On casseroles, quiet guilt, and the charity of being seen.
On decorum, treaties, and spiritual trauma
On jelly babies, benches, and the disappointments we carry.
On apologies, recognition, and the silence that follows.
![Quiet, With Edges [Narrated]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!8HhD!,w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F89085c44-505c-449b-9dbb-3ebb4ac801b7_1456x816.png)
On inheritance, fig bars, and the sharpness of silence.
On scarves, loose ends, and the cost of forgetting.
On effigies, old jackets, and grief folded into place.
![Set for Two [Narrated]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!PLUo!,w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F7d78762b-ac18-4533-8167-f0960f9a33c6_1456x816.png)
On companionship, restraint, and the ache of what’s unspoken.
![Just Enough [Narrated]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!4jzd!,w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6f71d641-1acf-4fe7-a242-cb7c41e72bbd_2500x1364.jpeg)
On curd, careful arrivals, and the stories we carry too neatly.
Maggie’s notebook is always open. You’re welcome to read over her shoulder.