Careless in Red, the 14th of Elizabeth George's Inspector Lynley series of crime novels, is a whopper at 568 pages. In many ways, George has earned the right to such epic tales: Lynley is almost as popular on television as he is in print. For hardcore Georgians, however, it is just possible he is too big, literally and figuratively. In book circles, the larger they come the harder they are to edit (see J.K. Rowling, Jilly Cooper and so on). Here, Scotland Yard's latest supercop is at some remove from Scotland Yard. Following the murder of his pregnant wife a shattered Lynley retreats to Cornwall to recuperate. Sherlock Holmes once did something similar in The Reigate Squires, only to find his refuge strewn with the perfect murder. As with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, so with George. On the 43rd day of a rambling expedition, Lynley finds the body of a young man. It is assumed he died while climbing, but an old Scotland Yard hand like Lynley soon smells something fishy. Like Patricia Cornwell, George seems increasingly interested in the inner lives of her characters rather than their outward investigating. I'm not altogether convinced that is a good thing.