Inspector Henry Peckover, newly translated from vice squad to fraud squad, was confronted with balance sheets and calculators enough to give a would-be poet a headache. He was also confronted with a mountainous file, part of it missing, relating to stlspected municipal corruption and ironically referred to as the Molehill file. But old habits die hard, and Peckover found it easier to take an interest in the murder of a call girl, especially when it looked as though one of her clients might be the speculator who had been pouring money into a new civic development and tossing in a little extra to grease the palms of certain councillors, builders, even possibly the local MP. Besides, the police investigating the murder were curiously unenthusiastic. Almost as though at Scotland Yard there were one or two who had themselves taken a backhander or two. . . Peckover might have been above accepting bribes, but he too lacked enthusiasm for the deep pockets of local government officials. Only when coshed on the head did he develop the kind of personal interest which caused him to move seriously into action. And he did not just move: he charged, aching head down, hands tearing to pieces the rule book, into a world of bribes, blackmail, sex and a second murder. Through a London heatwave in pursuit of corrupt, motley characters to a chase across a Northumbrian grouse moor, Peckover found himself matching crime with crime, violence with violence, in Michael Kenyon's inimitable blend of fast action, shrewd observation, delicious absurdity and coruscating wit.

Hardcover. 192 pages. Ex-library book. In acceptable preloved conditon. Damage to protective plastic cover over paper book jacket.