Reading a Dick Francis mystery is like falling into cool water on a hot and frenzied day. I've read many of his works, and while this one does not live up to his most brilliant, Banker, and Reflex, it is a classic, solid, Francis mystery. His main character falls into the familiar Francis mold; observing the world, not prone to effusiveness. Sentences are generally cut to the bone, replies to questions often phrased in a single word. Ian Pembroke, the young(ish) hero is thoughtful, self-effacing, kind. Around him swirl a family of quirky, dysfunctional relatives who give him plenty to ponder as he sets out to find who, amongst his family members is capable of murder. Of course horse racing figures into the plot. It wouldn't be a Dick Francis book without it, but here it is only tangentially involved, and not the primary focus. I do often laugh at the author's penchant for naming female characters the most preposterous names. Here, the most sympathetic female character is called, (god help us all) Coochie. But I find this just another endearing quirk of the author, not a flaw of his plots. And for those who want to be prodded into thinking of larger issues, the concept of money in a family is explored. Does having a wealthy father lead the children to a sense of entitlement? jealousy? ambition to succeed? disdain or worship of money? These questions are certainly posed, and given some thoughtful discussion, but not enough to be troublesome. One can't help, at the end of the book, to wish all of the characters involved a better journey through life. And Francis makes us believe that the conclusion found in the book will only lead to happier lives for all. A good read.