Yorkshire tax inspector Leah Hunter's got an attitude, and no wonder. Ever since she ducked into her local art gallery to get out of the rain and struck up an acquaintance with John Thorne, who died on the way out, it's been one thing after another. Person or persons unknown burgle her flat, mug her and get away with her catalogue from the gallery, set fire to the garage with her car inside, try to run her over twice (with a motorcycle, then a Ford Capri), toss her place again, and plant a bug inside. It's almost a relief when Detective Sergeant Nicholls, who's got a cute tush, arrests her after discovering two amateurish stolen paintings in her attic. He doesn't know that the puzzle includes drugs, a smuggling ring, and a probation officer who's gone AWOL himself. A few too many felonies and lowlife suspects, maybe, but Leah is a winner--a likable new female sleuth with the smartest mouth on her since Archie Goodwin.