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It’s pretty bad. A private detective is held at home because she has some difficulties at the end of her pregnancy.
As she finds herself alone, she looks out the window and sees that, every day, a woman dressed in a green raincoat walks her dog. One day she sees the dog alone, with the leash still on, so she decides that something has happened to the owner and goes on to investigate.
The research is not worth a dime, the characters are unsubstantial, the setting leaves much to be desired…
It’s the eleventh in the series starring researcher Tess Monaghan, and, if they’re all like this, I can’t imagine how there can be so many.
I’d like to point out that the difference with the other novel I read from this author, What the Dead Know, is quite pronounced. The other one was worth reading, not this one.