All Roads Leadeth — Peter Turnbull

The horizon doesn't always mark the end of the road. . . When Francis Armstrong moves into his fussily designed Victorian house in the heart of the Vale of York, his August stretches before him in a haze of leisurely house refurbishments. His decision to move a pile of rubble, however, brings DCI Hennessey and Sergeant Yellich springing to the scene at the double. The woman's skeleton they study alongside Louise D'Acre, the lovely pathologist, points the finger of blame firmly and soon all the roads of evidence are leading in one direction. But once that destination is reached, the road continues onwards beyond that point, to a doorstep that makes no attempt to conceal its horrific crimes, but brags of them.