The well-written, deceptively wry narration of the detective hero lends a light note to a very dark plot of malice and corruption in Dublin's horse-racing world. A word of warning for those of nervous disposition: this is a no-holds-barred expose of Irish high society clashing with low-life in a bloody tale of murder, incest, drug-dealing, sadistic priests and child abuse, culminating in an unholy mayhem of Greek tragedy proportions.
'They're a blot, a fucking plague all over north Wicklow and there's nothing you can do with them,' a thickset ginger-haired comb over said. 'Are they all one family?' a spotty young fella said. Comb Over led the older hands in a burst of hollow laughter. 'You could say that,' he said. 'Put it this way: Old Man Butler wasn't fussy about where he dipped his wick. He didn't mind if you were his cousin. He didn't mind if you were his sister. He didn't mind if you were his daughter .... He was an equal opportunities shagger,' Comb Over said.