A certain geriatric reader identification can be predicated for the properly aged audience, attracted by Norman Pink, the wheezy, breezy, 63 year old policeman turned private eye. His one day of constant attendance at a travelling fair in Scotland, and his needling questions directed at all the carney people who might have murdered Otis Bland, turn up a prime selection of madness as well as the one who-done-it in a good you-solve-it.