My favorite Rendell read thus far, no small accomplishment, because I like her other books, but this one just hit a new note of excellence as far as psychological thrillers go. There once lived a family in an old shabby end of terrace house, a profoundly unhappy family and, as per Tolstoy's sage quote, unhappy in their own way. Quietly struggling on...a pathetic no good husband, a beaten down (worn out not punching bag style) wife and her difficult, overbearing mother. Enter a possibility of inheritance, easy money that would certainly makes lives more bearable at least, a catalyst impossible to ignore by the aforementioned pathetic no good husband, a chance he's been waiting for, counting on for two decades. Alas, much like his wife, he's had somewhat isolated existence, apart from the world, wasting time on meaningless jobs and crossword puzzles and he's got neither the intellect nor the savvy to actually see this through the right way and come out on top. Yet it is precisely his descent, the twitchy glitchy claustrophobic mental meltdown that is so mesmerizing to behold here. Not quite Crime and Punishment, more like Crime and Anxiety and Rendell has done a terrific job of narrating the psychology of it all. Dated as one might expect, but in such a strange way that it reads timelessly old and oppose to set in a particular time and, of course, all the base motivations are timeless as well, money amounts might change, but greed, cowardice, stupidity, cruelty, despair and co. remains. It isn't a whodunit, it's the how and why and what happened dun it and it's a really engaging read. Highly recommended.