We were used to a certain Elizabeth George analytical fineness, an interesting psychological approach of the characters, so that the "paving" which she had accustomed us we were not afraid. This last story begins rather well, we find our Inspector Thomas Linley in an unusual context: he just lost his wife and behind his loneliness and pain as a soul in pain on the windy coast of Cornwall. Of course, it falls on the corpse of a young man and there begins a parade of characters that are added to each other without really complete history or bring something to the table: it goes in all directions, without Elizabeth George doubt she wanted to cover their tracks, that in which it succeeded perfectly it must be said, for that particular draft novel can not capture our interest and eventually tiring. Throughout the pages, we feel that the survey is only a pretext to present a cast of characters that intersect and intertwine, each with its problems, secrets, unspoken, her unspoken resentment , its petty little interest. It's a bit as if we had before us a millefeuille which never ceases to spread gradually as one the swallows, whose indigestible side eventually weigh.
