An up and coming young lawyer from Glasgow and a former TV personality retired to a mobile home in the Arizona backwoods would appear to have nothing in common and yet, as is the way with thrillers, they are both forced to fight for their lives when targeted by ruthless evil…

Now don’t get me wrong, I love thrillers – I love mysteries and detective stories and police procedurals, I even enjoy horror stories – but there comes a point where even the most dutiful brain rebels against the willing suspension of disbelief.

Ever noticed how few murders in thrillers are opportunistic? South African serial killers seldom have a personal motive for their crimes – they simply kill whenever they think they can get away with it. Your foreign psycho however is a far more complex character and needs a motive to justify his slaughters.

In Cruel Intent, Ali Reynolds shares a mobile home with her son Chris, a teacher, and her cat: do not be misled by this seemingly trailer-trash habitat – it is purely temporary while her mansion on the hill is being restored.

But then her builder’s wife is murdered: Bryan Forrester swears he is innocent but he is the only suspect, his business starts to crumble, and all work on Ali’s house ceases.

Since she had planned, with the assistance of her live-in British butler, to host a Thanksgiving Dinner at the mansion, Ali is exceedingly put out when Bryan is arrested and decides to solve the murder, hopefully proving the builder innocent so he can finish her house in time.

The real killer, an ER doctor who is apparently unable to satisfy his lust for death at the hospital and now trawls for victims using a website for adulterers [motive: the women were unfaithful – they deserved to die] , becomes aware of Ali’s interference and pays her a visit…

Cruel Intent is unusual and a little bit special because the heroine is a woman in her late 40s and although obviously attractive does not have a serious boyfriend. Ali lives with her son who is engaged to Athena, a bright attractive woman who lost an arm and a leg [literally] to a Middle East explosion.

When the crazy killer ambushes Ali at her trailer and tortures her to find out what she knows, she holds out for as long as she can before leading him to her mum Edie, a waitress in her late 60s, who saves the day through judicious use of an antediluvian computer, a cell phone and an electric pink ‘tazer.

Pleasantly pastel, this may be a tickler rather than a thriller, with the most creative thing about the story being the lengths to which the reader is expected to stretch his credulity, but I must admit it is an enjoyable read. ( )