As with many English villages, life revolves around a pub, a device used to introduce the local characters, allowing themselves to spill secrets, of which there are plenty, in the safety of the pub.  Rupert also attracts his own group of friends, most of whom quickly tire of the crusty old, self-absorbed man except for one young woman who may be looking toward Rupert as a how-to be mean and nasty role model.  

Felicity learns that her father also has secrets, such as the reason he left his last village so unceremoniously; he had earned a reputation for hitting on younger women, one that is apparently continuing in his new environ. Then Rupert is found dead at the bottom of a quarry, it’s possible he tripped while walking to the village.

No one, even Felicity is particularly sad to hear of the old man’s demise, but when his death is ruled a murder, there is no shortage of suspects, including Felicity herself.  Warned off the case by the local constabulary, Charlie refuses to leave his wife’s fate in the hands of someone he doesn’t know and begins methodically to get the villagers to unwittingly reveal their secrets to him, ultimately revealing a murderer.

As always, Robert Barnard does not disappoint.  This is the eighth outing for Charlie Peace.  The village environment is down to a science, though the Peaces’ new village has an unsettling atmosphere stemming from the myriad of secrets its residents hold close.  Barnard deftly handles the less than cordial relationship between Rupert and his daughter and son-in-law without making Felicity unsympathetic when she is not distressed over her father’s death.  

A couple of coincidences toward the solving of the case may disappoint readers a bit, but by that time, they are so caught up in the story and unraveling the mystery that they will be willing to overlook this. Cozy village fans as well as those who favor English police procedurals will not want to miss Robert Barnard, whose complete list of novels is closing in on forty, giving them plenty of backlist to enjoy.

--Jennifer Monahan Winberry