First, let me say that this book is better than the first book in this series. Slightly. Which is not to say that it is actually good. It's not.
If you are a fan of English murder mysteries, there are so many brilliant options to choose from, against which this book seems amateurish.
First of all, the pace is choppy and disjointed. There is no sense of a scene or event naturally flowing out of those that preceded it. Things just seem to jump from one place to another.
Secondly, the subheading for the title is "A Cotswold Murder Mystery", at least as it appears here on GoodReads. And the Cotswolds are one of the most distinctive, charming and beautiful areas of England. Yet none of that is captured in the book. It takes place in a village, and there is a pub, and a ruined manor on the outskirts. And that's it. There is no "Cotswolds" here at all.
And, with only marginal improvement over the first book in the series, the characters continue to talk in stilted ways in conversations that seem odd and don't ring true. Over and over again, they utter American idiom that would never be part of the British vernacular.
Their behavior is odd as well, and with only the barest minimum of character development as a foundation, the reader is left to wonder why characters talk and behave the way they do. At times, I asked myself whether the main character is just stupid. She is certainly annoying, fancying herself an amateur detective, but with no reason or history to support that. She inserts herself into police investigations, expecting the police to reveal to her confidential information, yet refusing to share with them even inconsequential things that she herself has learned. When she is threatened, she behaves inexplicably and recklessly. Repeatedly here, characters say -- even promise -- that they will do something, and then not only do not do it, but do the opposite. For no apparent reason. Odd. Just odd.
The book reads as if it were sketched out in a hurry on a plane, and never reread before publishing it. Which begs the question of why this amateurish effort was published in the first place. Could it be because it was written by a well-known author, whose name would sell books regardless of their quality?
If you do choose to read this, get it from your local library. Don't spend your money on it.
Or better yet, read Dorothy Sayers or Colin Dexter or Edmund Crispin. Or Deborah Crombie. Elizabeth George.