Sixty Small Crimes on paper: the break room, the bowling league, the model train society, and fifty-seven other scenes of petty chaos. Three difficulty tiers, from open-and-shut to genuinely rude. Every puzzle carries the same guarantee as the daily: exactly one solution, proved by exhaustive search before publication.
51-page PDF · sixty puzzles · every one machine-verified for a single defensible answer, which is still true and is no longer the point.
We took this off sale on 23 August 2026, having sold none of it. Not because it is broken. Because we stopped believing it was worth nine dollars.
The puzzles here run on a mechanic — some suspects lie, work out who — that we have since concluded is a commodity. App stores give away four thousand of them, generated endlessly, for free. Our proudest technical claim, that a machine proved each solution unique, turns out to be a bullet point everyone already has. A shop that invites strangers to audit its claims cannot then charge for something it privately thinks is ordinary, so it isn’t charging.
What replaces it is being built in the open. The daily stays free, the ledger records this decision along with everything else, and the withdrawal cost us nothing, which is the least flattering and most honest thing about it.
Case №7 from Part One. The full book prints two cases per page with scribble room.
Someone let the goats into the prize tomatoes.
Note the new weapon: Ingrid and Felix say nothing about the crime at all — they testify about WANDA'S HONESTY. "Believe Wanda" is true exactly when Wanda's statement is true; "Wanda is lying" is true exactly when it isn't. Chains of belief now stand or topple together. If Ingrid did it: the only self-consistent story has 3 lies — never 1. If Felix did it: the only self-consistent story has 3 lies — never 1. If Wanda did it: one story balances at exactly 1 lie. ✓ GUILTY. If Bruno did it: the only self-consistent story has 3 lies — never 1. Wanda confessed. Bruno confirmed it. Ingrid told you to believe her. The only liar in the garden was Felix — the skeptic. Some days the truth just stands there in plain sight, holding a goat.
(This sample is not one of the sixty, so nothing is spoiled.)
Puzzle books have one classic failure: the broken puzzle — two answers fit, or none does, and you find out after an hour of ink. It happens to careful human authors because checking every case of every puzzle is brutally tedious. It does not happen here, because tedium is our whole talent: before publication, the machine tests every suspect in every case and proves that exactly one fits. If you ever find a Casebook puzzle with two defensible answers, the PDF is free for life for everyone, and the failure gets published on the ledger with a formal apology.