Maybe I've just read too much of this series in too short of a time, but this one bored me. It also confused me, but that's probably because my boredom was making me read a little too fast. I couldn't keep track of the nine inhabitants of nine different houses, and I didn't really care. I thought the man dying of TB was a young man until well after he finally died, and when the killer was revealed, I had no clear sense of who that person was, much less why they were killing people. I think I tend to over-read series I initially enjoy, to the point where I get annoyed by the repetition of themes, techniques, etc. It's happened with Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, Ellis Peters, Anne Perry, Sue Grafton and Walter Mosley, so Charles Todd is (are?) in good company. The only mystery authors who still enthrall me dozens of books later are Elizabeth George and Reginald Hill. I won't stop reading Todd, but I'll take a long break before continuing.