Of all the countless authors Lume/Endeavor publishers have been digitally reviving, McGregor is definitely one of the most deserving. This is my third read by her and she continues to be very good, if uneven. The writing itself is uniformly good, it’s the plotting that occasionally gets in the way.
In this book, McGregor veers into supernatural, or at least metaphysical realm, and I’m not sure it quite works. Which is to say I’m not quite sure if it’s that element or just the overall overwriting that’s the thing at play here, the thing that makes the narrative seem ever so slightly convoluted, as if it’s contorting itself to accommodate all that the author had tried cramming into it.
The basic plot is this…a woman is found dead. An older but very vital woman is found dead in a car which has been driven to the…you guessed it…wrong address. Or is it the wrong address? Is there a connection between the girl who drove the car, a stubbornly silent nineteen year old, and the woman at the wrong address, a 28 year old hiding out from a potential stalker?
As if hiding out wasn’t enough, she’s also having an affair with the local lord of the manor, a married man with a dying father. That entire relationship gets very complicated very quickly and stays that way.
It’s all up to Inspector Wilde, a man of steady sedate manners quite contrary to his name, to sort out the entire mess.
Aside from the reliably good writing and well realized characters, I actually liked all the individual elements of this novel (cult, ley lines, mysteries), but their coming together was a somewhat muddled affair, which stretched the novel out of shape. Not all the way, just some, just so it read ever so slightly more cumbersome than it ought to have. But overall, it was an enjoyable read. Older, but not at all dated, and pleasantly British, with a nice darkly atmospheric tonality to it. It didn’t get much love here on GR judging by the other reviews and objectively it isn’t the author’s best, but for me it was worth a read.