“The most cheerful book about murder I’ve ever read. If the writings of Agatha Christie and Peter Kay ever had a baby . . . it would read something like this.” —The Bookbag (UK)
Jess Castle is running away. Again. This time she’s running back home, like she swore she never would. Home is Castle Kidbury, a pretty town in a green West Country valley. It’s home to all sorts of people, with all the stresses and joys of modern life, but with a town square and a proper butcher’s. It also has, Jess soon discovers, a rash of gory murders . . .
Jess instinctively believes that the hippyish cult camped out on the edge of town are not responsible for the spate of crucifixions that blights the pretty landscape. Her father, a respected judge, despairs of Jess as she infiltrates the cult and manages, not for the first time, to get herself arrested.
Rupert Lawson, a childhood crush who’s now a barrister, bails her out. Jess ropes in a reluctant Rupert as she gatecrashes the murder investigation of DS Eden. A by-the-book copper, Eden has to admit that intuitive, eccentric Jess has the nose of a detective.
As the gory murders pile up, there’s nothing to connect the victims. And yet, the clues are there if you look hard enough.