A local controversy about pornography, a snuff film, a dentist accused of sexually assaulting a young patient, arson, S&M, and, of course, murder.
Some good bits:
[Pascoe] felt annoyed. She could please herself what she thought about his manners, but further than that she could get stuffed. Dalziel again. I'll be scratching my groin next, he thought in alarm.
Distasteful though it was to have to bow to ratiocinative powers wielded like a shillelagh, Pascoe had to admit that [Dalziel] was right.
Dalziel, he knew, would never be kind out of mere sentiment. Something had rung a bell with him, distantly perhaps but clear enough to make him hesitate the blasting, blaspheming, coruscating scorn that was his favorite response to the vague and the absurd.
Dalziel rolled his eyes heavenwards in what was doubtless intended as an expression of bewildered piety but came out more like a lecherous peek up God's skirts.
"Come on, Peter. You youngsters are all the same. You've forgotten what your feet are for!"
Pascoe looked at the fat behind he was following and remembered wistfully one thing a foot was for.
Also, it should be noted that in this book, Dalziel enjoyed what might have been his longest scratch yet -- he started at the beginning of a conversation with Pascoe and was just barely "reaching the end of his scratch" when the conversation ended three pages later. Yuck. But also awesome.
I've decided that I really to make some sort of "I Heart Fat Andy" t-shirt.