by Anne Cleeland (Author)

It seemed as though Doyle was slated to have a busman's holiday, here in Dublin, and wasn't it just her luck to stumble across a corpse in the St. Brigid's School orchard. Stranger still, it looked to be a ritualistic revenge-murder, which-come to think of it-was exactly what they'd stumbled across the last time they'd visited Doyle's home town. Who would have guessed that nasty revenge-murders were thick on the ground, here-save Acton, of course, since such a thing was usually his specialty. . .