Rotten to the Core, T E Kinsey

The latest outing for ex-spies Emily, Lady Hardcastle and her lady's maid Florence Armstrong (Flo's our first person narrator).

It's harvest time 1911, Flo's hoping for a few weeks of humdrum after their pursuit of spies and saboteurs in the Bristol Aircraft Company, and the farmers of Littleton Cotterell are looking forward to the first products of the cider harvest, or at least they are until one of the Weryers of the Pommary, aka the Cider Wardens, aka the local combination secret society and charitable group, turns up dead in his orchard.

As usual Flo and Lady H are bidden to join the investigation, both by the local cops (who have a shrewd assessment of their own capabilities), and by Bristol-based Inspector Sunderland, who needs them as his local ladyfolk (and tiny Welsh servants) on the ground. There's a harvest festival to be organised, and skittles tournaments to be, well... not lost, but there's a strange young woman on the village who won't explain herself, and plenty of under-the-sheets canoodling to keep the village gossips busy and the amateur detectives confused (The Cider Warden Always Rings Twice).

And so the investigation plays out against the usual backdrop of village life, with the idyll only spoiled by the rate at which Cider Wardens are turning up dead. (Think Midsommer Murders, but with funnier accents, moy luvver)

Ultimately I think it's the writing that makes these more than the plot (even though the plot's perfectly fine). A sample as Flo tries, for the third time, to wake Lady H:

"Nine? But we have things to do."

"I know. I came in at seven and you wouldn't stir at all. At eight you were amusingly foul-mouthed and left me in no doubt as to where I should put the coffee and toast. And so here I am at nine with fresh coffee and even fresher toast, being moaned at for not waking you earlier."

"I was rude?"

"Colourfully so, language to make a navvy blush. And as for the instructions on where to shove the toast... well.'

"I'm so sorry dear, I was only barely conscious. I wasn't really aware of what was going on. Do please forgive me."

I laughed.

"You're forgiven". I said. "Now eat your toast and then get up, you idle mare."