Dig a Little Deeper = The Birthday Gift

“…Below him, the Blake house was dark, which was no guarantee whatever of its being empty. Two could play at that game, reflected Desmond, and no hair stirred on the back of his neck at all.”

Formulaic mystery camp with many largely indistinguishable [rich] older 1980’s Connecticut townies. It’s like if John Waters was a totally unsatirical and self-absorbed Talbots lady. Are the 1960’s novels the good ones and the later ones not, like Scooby Doo? Will edit as I find out.