Deliciously understated English murder mysteries against a background of Hereford cows and curmudgeonly coppers. Here’s a taste:
Bastard, bastard, bloody stupid game! He beat the turf with his five iron and considered dispatching it after his golf ball into the undergrowth. Then he trudged on morosely, feeling the blood pounding in his head. A balanced equable man reduced by the trials of this slow quiet game to a murderous lunatic.
One taste might be enough, though.
Vino Veritas, A Good Walk Spoiled, An Academic Death. It is the same story over and over again, populated by the same types: the murdered man is a lecherous and successful jerk, unloved by his wife, his workers, or his women. He leaves a trail of immoralities behind him, which the plodding Gloucester policemen unearth and convert into sharp shiny clues.