That Fowler loves London is obvious in this book, which pits a naive suburban housewife against the diverse and dangerous pleasures of London. June (the name is perfect) is a shopaholic about to be divorced by her philandering husband; cut off from all sources of income, she agrees to housesit for a stranger in a luxury condominium. And then she's present at the murder of a beautiful stranger, and everything just goes right downhill from there.
The suburbs are not especially livable in Plastic: June fills her home with tatty nick-nacks to insulate herself from reality; Lou, her best friend, drinks and despises her husband; Lou's son has a secret life as a shady online entrepeneur. London, by comparison, is filled with life and activity, sometimes violent, but surprisingly good-hearted.
"Plastic" has a lot of meanings in the book: plastic credit cards, plastic surgery. "Plastic" also implies flexibility and an ability to be molded, as June remolds herself. Though she calls herself "just a housewife," this is a housewife who quotes Cicero and uses words like "cuperous" (which I had to look up); she's more than she realizes, even at the beginning of the book. Her transformation is satisfying.
Even though this isn't a Bryant and May book, there's certainly a Bryant-like character who makes a cameo, and there is a mystery. But there's also an interesting protagonist who changes with life-changing events, which makes Plastic a little more than the usual thriller.