It must be hard writing a modern British police novel. Lacking the gun toting glamour of their US counterparts, the British bobby tends to go one of two ways: Inspector Morse (cool, intellectual, strained relationship with authority) or a Touch of Frost (grizzled, instinctive, strained relationship with authority). The problem is that the Brits have been doing this so well for so long, both in writing the books and translating them onto TV, that it's simply hard to do anything new. Armstrong's novel is well written and well observed, firmly rooted in modern Britain where the police try to solve crimes quickly because they can't face being on Crimewatch, but it's nothing you wouldn't find in a two hour Sunday night ITV drama. The story, of two unrelated murders which turn out to be, of course, related, moves along at a decent enough pace, with Kavanagh (definitely more Frost than Morse) and his Sergeant 'Elvis' Presley convincingly drawn, but while it's an enjoyable enough read it won't stay with you a moment after you've finished.
