Carl Wilcox travels from town to town, offering to do odd jobs, like painting, and services as a murder investigator.
Of course. Because that's what people in small towns do. We let murders wait for four years until a passing handyman announces the culprit, motive, and means.
Adams is compared to a mystery writer's Faulkner. Spare in his prose style, I find this comparison logic-free.
As for a mystery, it is textbook perfect. But sometimes shorter isn't better. Why did Wilcox feel the need to travel light and create this enigma of a self? Why did the characters feel compelled to harm and/or murder? Plotted well, yet severely lacking in character.
1.25 out of 5.0 Gin and Sins.
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