I rather enjoy Jennifer Rowe's elegantly-plotted murder mysteries, and her central character, the scrappy ABC researcher Verity 'Birdie' Birdwood. I'd probably say this is my least favourite of the series, partly because I don't think it builds the same 'spirit of place' as the grim Lamb to the Slaughter nor boasts the balls-out melodrama of Murder by the Book. Perhaps it's also partly that (unlike Grim Pickings, where key clues are boldly dangled in front of the reader without our realising it), there is vital information only revealed to Birdie very late in the piece, making it tougher for the armchair detective to match her powers of observation.
Counter-argument: this is still great fun. Birdie, usually the outsider, is here an old family friend, upending the usual construct of these novels. Rowe still interlaces times, dates, locations with ease, spinning a complicated web in which everyone seems like a suspect, but no-one seems truly guilty. And, the more I think about it, there are some sophisticated uses of crime fiction tropes here, perfectly placed to catch the reader. A suspect with a seemingly ironclad alibi we're reminded of too often. Another suspect to whom all the clues point but who has no motive. Another obvious suspect who seems surely too obvious. Another suspect who appears to have the motive but to whom no clues really point. Rowe knows we're paying attention, and she's determined to make us work.
Long live Verity Birdwood!