My rating says it all. The book was OK. The story had promise; it didn’t deliver. The characters may have been interesting but you didn’t get to know any of them. The book was a mystery; it was a late 19th century police procedural; it was a study of late 19th century forensics; it was a physiological thriller. It really it wasn’t any of these things, probably because it was trying to be all of them. While the author seems to studied the murder squad and forensic medicine he misses in other areas. There is a problem with the timeline for Inspector Day. He has been at his job for a week. When his home life is described it sounds like he has been in London for at least several months. His wife feels like a 21st century woman playing at being a 19th century woman (asking a man you just met to “call me Claire” would not be done). I don’t get Dr. Kingsley at all, not even getting into it. The author also misses on the language at times. Some of the phrases pulled me right out of the story. There are more problems but they are too numerous to mention. Even with all of that, I wanted to keep reading. I wanted to like these characters (or hate them). If only there had been enough of them to care about. I wanted to see how the stories came together. And that was my biggest disappointment. The ending could have been so good. Instead it was a series of coincidences that allowed the police to figure everything out and save the day. Oh and they did it by ignoring the orders they had just been given – go out in two’s because it isn’t safe to go out by yourself; one of many conversations that could be removed from the book without any impact on the story. I am intrigued enough to read another book by this author with the hopes that the missteps are because this is his first novel.