An eager but uneasy little attempt to blend British domestic comedy/farce with grisly, genteel psycho-horror; there are a few diverting moments, but mostly the comedy's unfunny while the horror is ill-timed and unscary. Walter Gregdale is a cartoonily pedantic/absent-minded professor, living in the London suburbs with morose wife Barbara (a canal enthusiast) and teenage daughter Kathy (who sometimes narrates, in icky exclamations that suggest age five more than age 15). Enter young bearded lodger Chris, an ordinary, pleasant fellow who adds some amusement to this drab household: when Barbara goes off on a canal-research trip, Chris gently moves in on yearning Kathy. . . while father Walter shows an unexpected, kinky interest in Chris' blowsy friend Angela. And--could one of the men on the premises be the pervert-killer who's been murdering local women and cutting off their feet? Goller lets us know the culprit's identity about 50 pages too soon, yet even with all that time to get used to the idea, we never really believe it. And chirpy Kathy, who eventually is rescued from the Crazy Killer and happily loses her virginity to Chris, is a most unsatisfactory heroine. Some promising, amusing burbles here and there (Barbara's canal obsession is best)--but, overall, a first stab at suspense-entertainment that has only the shakiest grip on the delicate art of black comedy.