This is the best Lydmouth to date, I reckon. Thornhill is taken to the edge of a breakdown when haunting memories of his time in Palestine are stripped bare and the body of a retired policeman is found in the town. The sexual tension (1950s style) between Thornhill, his wife Edith and Jill Francis tightens as the rain continues, the flooded river rises and the apparently ordinary events of the town threaten to mask the arrival of a ruthless killer. It's a wonderfully atmospheric read and very, very hard to put down.