So-so eighth in a series set in the early 1920s, dealing with the misadventures and triumphs of the Honorable Daisy Dalrymple, part-time writer and full-time snoop, the latter an activity bemoaned by her fiancÇ, Scotland Yard’s D.C.I. Alec Fletcher. Daisy’s worried brother-in-law Lord John Frobisher has come to London from Kent to have lunch with Daisy and to tell her about the unsigned poison-pen, obscenely worded letters he’s been getting. They accuse him of having an affair with youngish widow Mrs. LeBeau in the village of Rotherden. It’s true, unfortunately, though over now, but Daisy decides to pay a visit to her sister Viole—to explore the territory and see whether any other villagers are victims of the poison pen. She finds a score of them, including the postmistress, Mrs. Burden; retired Brigadier Lomax; local Dr. Padgett; and mechanic Sam Basin. The Vicar, Reverend Osborne, has an atheist brother, a professor who’s anathema to the Vicar’s wife, and, it emerges, the Vicar has his own sin to hide. Daisy, asked to address the Women’s Institute at the church hall, is on her way to do so, walking through the churchyard, when she spots a body pinned under a large stone angel—which has obviously pushed or fallen from its stand. The victim is the Vicar’s brother, and Daisy, true to form, is soon in the middle of the investigation. The answers, when they come, are hardly believable, even as the characters and events seem contrived most of the time. Only Dunn’s most devoted fans will relish this tepid tale.