Twice a week the popular television series Maddox Row is filmed in a former mill now transformed into a northern county village that sits just inside Woodend’s jurisdiction. Exactly why he is relocated from Scotland Yard is unknown but his superior makes allusions to a previous event. One night the femme fatale misses her cue, but for a very good reason.... her murder. The network bigwig insists on Woodend handling the case and the plot’s afoot.

The final disclosure is so convoluted and rife with red herrings and false trails that the reader can scarcely follow it. Indeed the entire kettle of fish reeked (to continue the metaphor.) I didn’t care who killed whom nor even why. Perhaps some secret revelation would have helped.

Inspector Woodend is as perceptive as his name sounds. He is startled to learn that his own daughter is dreadfully unhappy to have left London for the boonies and cannot fathom her unhappiness. His two assistants, Monika Paniatowski and Bob Rutter, are undeveloped characters in contrast to the stereotypes prevalent in the television cast and crew. One woman is a pseudo Jayne Mansfield complete with skintight leopard skin pants while the director is one huge tribute to ambition. There is the expected drunk and the great-but-as-yet-unrecognized talent, and the actor who views himself as typecast - please-stop!

The police officers had glimmerings of personality but kept referring to other cases in previous books in the series. Apparently Rutter’s wife was blinded in an earlier incident and is learning how to adapt to her new condition especially as she is in the final weeks of pregnancy. Interesting, huh? Don’t get your hopes up; we soon return to “cloggin’” Charlie Woodend and his dreariness. We don’t even know how he got that nickname.

While reading a book out of sequence often leads me to track down the rest of the series there is no chance of that happening with this dismal tome. Here’s a clue: bypass Dead on Cue.

--Jane Davis