The holidays had come and gone, and Doyle was chafing to get back home to London, so as to start being productive, again. Acton's hereditary estate was grand indeed, but there was something a bit off-putting about the grandeur, and all that tiresome peacefulness. After all, Trestles hadn't always been a peaceful sort of place; for hundreds of years, it had housed generation after generation who were consumed with ruthless ambition, and who were willing...

A shocking death at St. Michael's Church pitches Detective Sergeant Kathleen Doyle into a confusing case, one where the motive for the crime is not at all clear and only becomes less and less so as the investigation unearths a massive criminal enterprise. Why was the murder of such a famous man necessary? And why does Doyle have the sense that the killer had to steel himself to commit the crime? Once again, Doyle has to keep a wary eye on her husband,...

"It seemed a little strange, that detective Sergeant Kathleen Doyle wound up being the ranking officer on this particular homicide scene. It was true that DCI Acton was off somewhere, testifying, and DI Williams was chasing down witnesses on the latest Santeria murder, but Doyle couldn't shake the feeling that she was being manipulated, by one or both of them. But to what end? The unidentified victim was a wealthy man, who shouldn't have been mucking...