Murder On the Mire

Murder on the MireDetective Inspector, Homicide, Jack Plod would like to sleep. Sleep, no longer filled with the thundering hoof-beats in the nightmares of his past. The bodies released from the muddy grip of the mire fleer in his face throughout the long nights, to the constant post-punk soundtrack of an awful 1980's Indie band - when life was easier. What secret does the redhead hide?How low can the bucolic go?How perverse the master and servant?How many young women must die?Where one murder might be considered a sermon, how deep must a perversion be to differentiate one from the other?Detective Inspector Plod can smell the difference. He can taste the smell of "e;serial