Novels No. 131

 

Michael Malone. First Lady. USA: Sourcebooks, Inc., 2001.

In the heart of a North Carolina city, detective Justin Savile is narrating, still mourning his baby son and missing his wife Alice. With his friend, police chief Cuddy Mangum, he’s trying to solve a recent murder where they can’t even ID the dead woman. It’s almost as if the killer has a personal message for them: “Guess Who.” The media is applying huge pressure on the cops. At the same time, mega-rock star Mavis Mahar is in the city to perform, so security is needed; Mavis is known for wild, erratic behaviour with her fans. Then Cuddy and Justin encounter the mother of all bureaucratic screw-ups: Mavis is privately reported as a suicide and the two cops belatedly find her suite swarming with state agents, county officials, and the governor’s rep, all lying about the situation. What’s missing are her body and the gun that killed her.

Cuddy has been in love forever with Lee, wife of the philandering state governor Andy Brookside. First Lady of North Carolina, Lee’s family money got Andy elected. The governor was rumoured to be having an affair with Mavis, and he’s being protected—by his press secretary Bubba, district attorney Mitch, sheriff Louge, attorney-general Ward Trasker, and more. The level of contamination and deception at the scene is stupefying. Not suicide, it’s murder. Justin and Cuddy work through the pandemonium to establish a timeline after the body and gun are recovered, struggling against the cover-up demanded by powerful authorities. But is Mavis really dead? Is Guess Who a serial killer playing grisly tricks on them all? Various subplots all lead to an intense climax.

First Lady is a colourful blockbuster of a novel, capturing the cultural milieu of a good ole boys network in full force. The characters’ familiarity with each other, the human insight, the literary prose, and the devilish plot make an engrossing story. An acknowledged master, Malone brilliantly satisfies!

Bits

▪ The waitress obviously believed imitation was at least the most manifest form of flattery for she had the exact same hair cut, hair color, nail color, multitude of rings and black wedge open-heeled sandals as Mavis Mahar. (22)

▪ “Alice’s gone to her family for comfort. She wasn’t getting it from you.” (51)

▪ “I’m going down for the third time here, I’ve got sharks chewing off both my legs and sea gulls crapping on my head.” (58)

▪ “I just about fell over her body and then I came straight here to you. I didn’t call anybody.” (90)

▪ “Bubba, they did destroy evidence, they did obstruct justice. You know it.” (184)

▪ “They’ll come up with a spin that’ll smear your pal Mangum so bad his mama wouldn’t let him in her house.” (186)

▪ I nodded again. “That’s the repeat. Saints’ shaved heads and haloes.” (234)

▪ “And you fucks fire me you’ll be seeing yourselves on the news more goddamn times than Monica Lewinski!” (250)

David Bell. Never Come Back. USA: New American Library/Penguin, 2013.

[In-house grab] The death of Elizabeth Hampton’s mother Leslie is a shock, especially when detectives Richland and Post declare it was murder. Grad student Elizabeth has not been close to her mother whose quiet life was spent caring for her other adult child, Ronnie, born with Down’s syndrome. Police and medical attention focus on Ronnie as the perpetrator, but Elizabeth and her maternal uncle Paul don’t believe Ronnie is capable of murder. No other suspect or motive seems to exist; Ronnie does have occasional tantrums. Although he’s highly functioning, his reactions to the accusation are baffling.

Elizabeth has to examine her few family relationships, acknowledging that she put up barriers around herself just as mom did. Her patient boyfriend Dan is a comfort. Then an inexplicable break-in at her apartment leads to confusing revelations about Leslie’s life prior to having her two children. With the police satisfied they’d solved the murder and Ronnie in custody, Elizabeth prepares to face some scary challenges on her own. Or perhaps with Neal, her student who plays detective.

The plot moves slowly; we are mainly in Elizabeth’s head as she tries to absorb overwhelming new information. The little action is mostly recounted in dialogue. This family’s dysfunctional activities stretch the credibility limits.

Worries

▪ Paul knew Ronnie better than I did. He understood his moods. He had a real relationship with him, and I didn’t. (32)

▪ Why would someone come into her house to kill her? (46)

▪ “She said the main reason they had me was to take care of Ronnie after they were both gone. Can you imagine telling a kid that?” (65)

▪ “Ronnie is who he is today because your mom gave up her life for him,” he said. “She was his everything.” (122)

▪ For so long I’d held my family at arm’s length, only to find out how much I wanted them near me once I risked losing them. (157)

▪ “Beth was becoming one of those kids. She was troubled. And she was a troublemaker.” (225)

▪ “You agree with Gordon?” I asked. “You think this woman is a con artist?” (252)

Novels No. 130

 

Elle Cosimano. Finlay Donovan Is Killing It. USA: Minotaur Books, 2021.

Finlay Donovan is one frantic woman. She’s dealing with two boisterous toddlers, a custody battle with her vindictive ex Steven, lack of income, and a way-past-deadline novel she’s supposed to be writing. She’s overheard and misinterpreted in a lunch conversation with her agent that prompts stranger Patricia Micklin to offer her $50,000 to kill her husband Harry. Shocked, but curious, Finn free-falls into a weird world of crime, dogged by Murphy’s Law, and no apparent way out. Harry dies, but not at Finn’s hand, and she’s in trouble unless she can find who really did it. Her former nanny, Veronica, becomes her partner for avoiding murder and police. She can’t confide in sister Georgia who is a cop. So Finn worries about every other illegal thing they’re doing, afraid of landing in jail and losing her children.

Narrated by Finn, the story is like a combination of insanity and logic. Trying to make sense of her newly crazed life, she writes it down. As luck goes, she sends off some chapters to stop her agent’s harassing calls—and both agent and publisher rave that it’s going to be a bestseller. Detective Nick Anthony suspects Steven’s girlfriend Theresa for a murder, but that might lead to Finn. Or to Theresa’s friend Amy. Somehow Finn is gaining a commendable reputation in certain circles, and a Mafia wife wants a hit job too. Veronica is liking the notion of big money coming in.

Finn’s frazzled nerves were rattling my nerve endings throughout this frenzied tale. But the built-in humour makes this clever, sly twister a real dilly.

Bits

▪ Then I pretended to stumble, flinging the contents of my glass and drenching the back of her suit in tomato juice. (52)

▪ His speech had slowed, the edges smearing together into a drunken slur. He blinked, his eyelids growing heavy. (55)

▪ I’d been out at a bar in a wig and a stolen dress, drinking the money my husband had given me for gas. (66)

▪ “We are not adding grand larceny of farm equipment to our growing list of felonies.” (91)

▪ My agent and editor lived in New York. Still, I prayed like hell I had remembered to change all the names before sending it out. (162)

▪ “How the hell am I supposed to kill an enforcer for the mob?” (198)

▪ “You are my only option,” she said, her forehead beginning to glisten. “My husband knows everyone else in your line of work.” (204)

Frances Crawford. A Bad, Bad Place. Canada: HarperCollins Publishers, 2026.

Here’s the bad old Glasgow of 1979. Twelve-year-old Janey Rizzo lives with her Nana, Maggie Devine, the rest of their family having died in a gas explosion. Near an overgrown old railway line, Janey – actually, her dog Sid Vicious – discovers the mutilated body of beautiful Samantha, the only daughter of Billy Watson, a man who works for top gangster Duncan Edgar aka The Eggman. Both the police and Billy want to know if Janey saw the murderer, but Janey is traumatized. She’s terrified of what she can’t remember about the incident but tries to keep her fears to herself. Unlike most, Janey and Maggie sympathize with Billy’s private grief. Janey meets Lulu, a minion of Billy’s, who harbours secrets about Samantha along with her friend Heather. Then the cop called Val insists on revisiting the crime scene, where they learn that Janey had spent a scary hour in a tunnel not far from the body.

First-person narration is shared in turn by Janey and Maggie in Glaswegian vernacular, and it’s compelling, even charming, despite the sombre story. Obsessed with learning about Samantha, Janey navigates her way through an adult world, bampots and bawbags among them. Maggie overhears something bad but must keep her mouth shut; Janey could be the next victim if her memory returns. Suspicion of violent intentions lingers everywhere—on their neighbour Gibby, Skinny Jimmy, Taxi Alex, Samantha’s friends, besides the obvious crime gangs. Some twists are a shock when the reader has become so invested.

This is a debut novel of amazing human depth in the most natural flow of daily doings. Note that Glaswegians also have a fundamental sense of humour. Author Crawford adds a Glossary for those of us unfamiliar with the unique language :-)

Janey

▪ I found a corpse all ripped apart and I did something that was definitely wrong, and I can’t remember a big chunk of what happened next, and I have nightmares and pish the bed, and I’m scared to go out in case the killer gets me. (31)

▪ They want me to go to Mr. Watson’s house and find the Polaroid photos. (160)

▪ Thing is, nobody in the world knows about the word on Samantha’s face. Nobody but me and the person who wrote it. (198)

▪ “Ask her,” Jamesie points at me, “she saw the deid woman. They did her with this hatchet.” (276)

Maggie

▪ And it’s no just the drunks, I get them all, even at Mass, desperate to tell me what they’ve heard about Samantha or about her father. (27)

▪ I know Janey said she likes Lulu but once she knows what he did, she’ll be glad to see him locked up. (189)

▪ Old age doesn’t come alone, as my mother used to say, and it’s bringing the whole flaming gang for me. (141)

▪ “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Sorry that I’m no dealing heroin lollipops, or, or running a brothel staffed by nuns or any of that. I never have been, Maggie.” (175)

Novels No. 129

 

David Baldacci. Simply Lies. L.P. USA: Grand Central Publishing, 2023.

Without a doubt, this is the most convoluted mystery novel I’ve ever read. Or else my brain could be on its last legs. Mickey Gibson is a forensics-trained, crack investigator for private firm ProEye; her expertise is tracking hidden financial assets. She’s ex-police, working remote, raising two rambunctious toddlers. A legit-sounding call from Arlene Robinson at ProEye sends her on an urgent mission to inventory the contents of a derelict mansion; instead she finds the dead body of Daniel Pottinger. He was known for being deep into illicit activities on a global scale, having turned recluse in later life. But fingerprints identify him as Harry Langhorne, a whole different person: a clever accountant for the mob’s illegal businesses who had skimmed millions from them and then turned state’s evidence to convict/imprison them all. Was it a revenge kill, or someone seeking his concealed hoard of money?

Arlene stays in touch as Clarisse; she knows a lot about Mickey’s family and uses threats to force her to cooperate, their exchanges all by phone or email. A mistress of disguise, Clarisse needs Mickey’s skills to find the killer, but we don’t know why or even who she is. Mickey’s goal is to discover that and expose her. It’s like hunting through an avalanche to get information from retired cops, offshore banks, witness protection (WITSEC) families, registered agents for corporations, assisted living homes, angry criminals—one dangerous step after another (or sideways or backwards). So many people searching for illegal treasure. Adding to the ultra-twisted tale, the details of international money transactions are overwhelming—think bitcoin, metaverse, ethereum, non-fungible tokens.

Basically I struggled and stumbled my way, grasping little about what was going on. Obviously Mickey, with her resources, fared far better at it. Many characters along the way harbour secret identities and puzzling clues – and threats. It’s educational. It’s exhausting. People who understand high finance will love this novel.

Mickey

▪ She slowly opened the door and saw the small box on the porch. Gibson gently opened it just as the phone inside began to ring. (46)

▪ Pottinger had died from poisoning. That was not what hitmen did. They shot you, usually. Anyone could poison someone and watch while they croaked. (165)

▪ This shit is so complicated it’ll take you the rest of your life to figure it out, and even that probably wouldn’t be long enough. (373)

▪ When she looked at herself in the mirror afterward, she saw a woman who’d had the wits scared clean out of her. (379)

Clarisse

▪ “I don’t leave tracks. I did it all electronically. Just like you do with your work, Mickey.” (73)

▪ Her job was to remain in the background moving her chess pieces around. And Gibson was her queen on the front lines, or at least she hoped the woman had the potential to become such a powerful tool. (135)

▪ You can care about someone and still hate them at the same time. At least I can. (169)

▪ Clarisse felt the tip of the knife bite into her neck. She felt the drop of blood freed from her body. (402)

Sam Wiebe. Guns Across the River. Canada: Harbour Publishing Co. Ltd., 2026.

A change of pace to a more regular whodunnit. PI Dave Wakeland is a threat assessment investigator, or security consultant, living in a “float-home” in Vancouver’s Sea Village. One night after a poker game with his partner Jeff Chen and other cronies, Dave rescues a girl who jumped into the sea from the nearby 30-metre bridge. Dave is curious to know who she is, why he senses she had been chased, and why she had a bleeding wound, but the hospital and police block his efforts. A visit from a professional enforcer-type—a rather scary female, calling herself Sgt. McPhail—warns Dave away from getting involved with the girl. He knows McPhail is no cop as she claims.

The girl says her name is Nicola Havoc. When told that her father Mark was coming to get her, she disappears from the hospital. It’s not the only time Dave will have to search for her. He’s not leaving this alone; he’s located an odd rural family that wants to find Mark Havoc, aka Marcus R. Havelock. Nicola has only fond memories of him. But the man has left an angry trail of ripped-off, vicious customers who tried to buy his stock of illegal “ghost guns.” It may be all-out warfare in the Fraser Valley if Dave doesn’t find Havoc first. This dangerous kind of work makes him debate whether he can commit to girlfriend Eden. Nicola’s character is treated with great care.

Dave’s intentions or plans may fall apart at times, but the tension wracks up to the last shocking page. The sneaky humour is perfect: more Sam Wiebe!

Peeks

▪ “Teens know the nice guy figure of authority is the one most likely running a game on them.” (51)

▪ This woman with the face like a broken-in catcher’s mitt exerted a Tsarina’s pull over the two grown men. (80)

▪ “You told him what room she was in. I heard you on the phone.” (99)

▪ What I knew of Nicola: she was canny, resourceful, fearless and nearing the end of her rope. (102)

▪ But these things weren’t guns as I understood the term. These were plastic kits designed to squeeze through a loophole in a broken system. (158)

▪ I twisted, trying to move the chains down my hips and below my knees. Shimmying took effort and the chains didn’t move at all. (215)

▪ “You’re not ruthless enough for this business,” Catesby said. “You know that, don’t you, Wakeland?” (232)

Novels No. 128

 

Don Gillmor. Cherry Beach. Ontario: Biblioasis, 2026.

A storied spot in Toronto—the words “Cherry Beach” invoke the go-to place where some police would haul suspects to force criminal confessions. Detectives Abel and Davis are on the murder case of two teenage girls. Angela Blair and Dashika Moore were found slain in the Blair apartment; star athletes on the high school track team, they’d planned to lunch together. Dash was preparing to head for university on a scholarship. Her sometime boyfriend Delroy Staples, from a Jamaican immigrant family, is being sought but he’s in hiding. The killing of a trans prostitute called Infinity falls to old-school detectives Lloyd and Maxwell but Abel takes an interest, knowing his colleagues will virtually ignore the case. In fact, Abel is following the complicated trails of numerous cases at the same time.

The author deals pointedly with city tensions around immigrants and crime, and problem police officers. It’s a city that’s experiencing the humiliation of a (fictional) misogynist, racist, drug-addicted mayor. The two young murdered women are the biggest murder case in years, going unsolved for weeks, police being hammered by the media. While the police force wants to appear diverse (Davis is Black), racism is a fact of Black life. Gillmor spares no invective for social inequalities, seen through Abel’s amazing range of daily drama—muggers, con men, carjackers, domestic violence, hookers, graffiti painters, frightened innocents, and the privilege of wealth. And a sinister long-range plan is uncovered. Seeing my own city, my own police division, so full of crime – both petty and serious – is eye-opening. Any hyperbole here?

Abel finds the guilty parties and it’s not pretty. Yet we also witness the lonely social life of a single cop (a meticulous chef, no less). Gillmor’s knowledge of police routine and political malfeasance is impressive. So is his writing that moves nimbly between street talk and lyrical heights. Highly recommended!

Musings

▪ “Fourteen stab wounds on the Black girl. Can’t tell which one came first. White one stabbed twice.” (5)

▪ The next morning’s headlines read TORONTO COP SEARCHES FOR JAMAICAN KILLER. (31)

▪ There were still lapsed Methodists who had clout, but real estate was the city’s one true religion. (67)

▪ “We live in a city of seven million that is allegedly the most multicultural in the world and has fewer murders than Lubbock, Texas, and right now we’re living in a Spike Lee film and you need to widen your perspective.” (74)

▪ If you took hockey, and married it to the law, its offspring might be the police force. (100)

▪ The police chief is flailing and the division superintendent at 51 is a spineless lump with one foot on the golf course. (147)

▪ Someone was prepared to burn a woman to death to get control of her property. (182)

▪ I should have been bouncing all of this off my partner, but Davis was too busy quietly running for mayor and she’d only tell me that I’d lost sight of what’s important and was chasing the wind while the city was burning. (182)

Nic Stone. Boom Town. USA: Simon & Schuster, 2025.

It became evident by about page 40 that I’d lost any interest in whatever made me choose this novel in the first place. A Black strip club in Atlanta is not only pretty far from my orbit, the vernacular slang is disorienting, the timeline confusing, and the characters opaque. Lyriq and Lucky, aka Micah and Felice, are pole dance partners on stage and otherwise in torrid lust with each other but a white man/club patron appears to be causing a disturbing influence on them. Above all, the constant in-your-face crude and cringy descriptions of their activities just demands NO.

Freida McFadden. Want to Know a Secret? 2021. USA: Poisoned Pen Press/Sourcebooks, 2026.

Stay-at-home mom April Masterson finds her son Bobby playing in a new neighbour’s house after a panicky search for him ... because a weird text from an unknown phone taunted her about his whereabouts. April runs a series of YouTube baking videos called “Sweet Secrets” where she’s accustomed to some downright mean comments amid the gushing fans. More weird texts follow, sounding personal – and scary; is her people-pleasing manner hiding something quite different? She’s delighted with neighbour Maria Cooper, manager of a chic clothing boutique. April finds her more copacetic than her so-called BFF Julie, the domineering, judgmental leader of local moms—yet, at moments there’s something off about Maria or her son Owen.

The focus on children’s snits recurs (they all have 7-year-old sons). April constantly distributes cookies and pies to everyone, but hints of trauma in her past pop up; her mom Janet is in long-term care. Plus, she has growing suspicions of husband Elliot’s extra-long office hours and his beautiful receptionist. Gradually we become aware of what seems to be a sneaky campaign to discredit April in every possible way. Then whoa! Julie takes over the narrative to jumble the plot. A former prosecutor who misses her job, Julie discovers a whole new satisfying challenge in the suburbs. Even the children’s snit-fits are significant to the story’s course.

Enough said, this author is an expert in psychological drama, although I did strain a few times over certain actions. Ultimately, perhaps not one of McFadden’s most persuasive.

April

▪ One thing. I do one thing wrong in my entire life, and now I’m being threatened with it. (79)

▪ “She came to the fence and told me you said it was okay for me to come over!” (29)

▪ My cheeks burn. I can’t believe they’re accusing my son of stealing Owen’s toy. (120)

▪ Julie and I are best friends, and if I come over with a peace offering and I explain to her my side of the story (or Bobby’s side), she’ll be reasonable. (167)

▪ “Listen, April. I just don’t think the other women will feel comfortable with you here right now.” (205)

Julie

▪ “Don’t you think there should be a dress code for drop-off and pickup?” (39)

▪ “For goodness’ sake, April, you don’t need to bulldoze the poor guy into eating your food!” (120)

▪ This is going to be my life now. Playgroups for adults. (237)

▪ But then again, is it so wrong that I’m here visiting Janet? The poor woman is demented (or so April proclaimed). (262)

▪ I don’t even realize until I’m driving home how good it feels to be investigating a murder. Ever since I gave up my job at the DA’s office, it was like I have been in some kind of fog. (264)

Novels No. 127

 

Imani Thompson. Honey. Canada: McClelland & Stewart, 2026.

Yrsa is a Black post-grad student at Cambridge, also working in the Sociology Dept. as an undergrad advisor. The Gen Z-ness of her reactions to everything surrounding her takes my breath away. It’s a novel start to a crime story; Yrsa’s Ph.D. thesis revolves around whether or how the liberation of Black women can take place. Some argue it can happen only if they die; there’s no other way to escape the white male patriarchy. When she hears that a Professor Richardson plagiarized her friend Nina’s research, she’s angry; a chance meeting with him results in his death from anaphylaxis. Yrsa stood by and watched without helping. She learns from a male student that her Black-ness had made her a prize goal among freshmen as a sex partner; infuriated, she pushes him off a building to his death.

Before our eyes this intelligent, restless woman devolves into a serial killer. She’s found the construct of her thesis—who says the woman has to die? Bored with men and useless dating sites, she actually begins to plan, making a list of misogynists. Ex-boyfriend Felix, internet incel hero Mack, and so on. Not getting caught requires utmost attention to details so she has some success. But, oh-oh. Her friend Blake’s grandson Isiah appears in her life and she can’t even name the special new feelings she experiences.

Apparently there’s no stopping a psychopath. Redemption is nowhere in sight. Fascinating at first, the journey becomes nothing but darker. A story for, perhaps, emotional masochists; sorry it took up space in my head for a while.

Yrsa

▪ Patience is not one of her virtues. Nor is faith, humility, or empathy. (42)

▪ And if she did—she won’t—murder another—then it would be a way to test her thesis. (91)

▪ When she thinks too hard about things—love—or people—or the heart—she becomes overwhelmed by a particular feeling that is nothing.(134)

▪ Besides, everyone knows that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. (155)

▪ There’s something intoxicating in the air after death. (166)

Others

▪ “I didn’t like how you spoke to me in the lecture.” The boy looks both affronted and righteous. (15)

▪ “You never replied to my text after we slept together.” He says it quietly. (71)

▪ “I’m sorry to be saying this, but one of the students has made a complaint, about you.” (128)

▪ “You’re always just so ... cold with men. They’re in and then they’re out. On to the next.” (133)

Jakob Kerr. Dead Money. USA: Bantam Books/Random House, 2025.

Silicon Valley with all its stereotypes and feverish activity. Mackenzie Clyde looks like our protagonist, working for Hammersmith Venture (HV), run by the redoubtable Roger Hammersmith, HV is the major investor in a hugely successful startup called Journy; but Journy’s founder and CEO Trevor Canon has been murdered, shot in his office. Police have made no progress whatsoever although all accounts agree the man had lately been acting strangely. Everyone holding Journy shares expects a windfall from Canon’s shares, but Canon’s will specifies that should he be murdered, all Journy assets will be frozen – dead money – until the killer is on trial. Roger wants Mackenzie, his investigator and fixer, to find who did it so that HV, as the majority shareholder, can rightfully manage Journy. The FBI is called in, and she’s allowed to join their inquiry because of her tech-world knowledge.

Special agent Jameson Danner’s theory is logical; only Journy executives had access to Canon’s office at the time, hence, prime suspects. COO Eleanor Eden is still in shock, acting as their liaison, and has a solid alibi. The others insolently refuse to meet with Danner at the offices. CTO Stanley Yoo is suspiciously missing, not returned from one of his frequent remote work trips. CMO Cassiopeia was Trevor’s romantic partner as well, but doesn’t know why he’d lately turned paranoid. They find CIO Brady Fitzgerald who admits to a recent argument with Trevor. Layer after layer of motivation for killing Trevor slowly peels away while billions of dollars change hands. Investors, partners, rivals—is it always about the money?

Well-structured, the unimaginable scope of the plot becomes mesmerizing and timely. Beautiful job in developing Mackenzie’s character; a pleasure to read Kerr’s smoothly effective prose.

Players

▪ Hammersmith looked away. “Trevor and I were kindred spirits. Very close.” (25)

▪ “It is precisely your type of work,” Hammersmith said. “Investigation is synthesis. That’s your strong suit. Dig for information. Find the levers.” (29)

▪ “To be honest, he’d gotten more touchy about everything over the last few months. Almost paranoid.” (46)

▪ Danner’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Because I know exactly how Canon was murdered. And I’m close to knowing who did it.” (67)

▪ “Trevor was much more than Stan’s boss. They were like brothers.” (97)

▪ “Roger thinks Soti is all style and no substance. Soti thinks Roger’s a dinosaur, overdue for a meteor.” (152)

▪ “Doesn’t it bother you that Trevor got the glory while you cleaned up after all his mistakes?” (162)

Novels No. 126

 

Simon Mason. The Broken Afternoon. 2023. UK: riverrun/Quercus, 2025.

[in-house grab] The joke’s on me. My luck at finding another Detective Wilkins novel turned out, chronologically and story-wise, to be the one before the last one I read (Lost and Never Found, Novels No. 121). Ryan Wilkinson was discharged from the police after the first book in the series (A Voice in the Night, Novels No. 118) and in this one he’s working as a security guard. However, new Superintendent Wallace decides to reinstate him if he meets the procedure’s requirements. Ryan is concerned that his old school pal Mick Dick was found dead – hit and run – shortly after visiting Ryan in a panicky state. His former partner DI Ray Wilkins (no relation) is leading the case of missing four-year-old Poppy Clarke—an apparent kidnapping. It’s a dark, time-consuming case for Ray whose pregnant wife Diane resents his lack of attention.

Ryan’s questions about Mick, a possible murder victim, get bold enough to risk his re-entry into the police. When little Poppy’s body turns up, Ray’s case expands to ugly proportions. He needs solid evidence to expose a clandestine network of perverts, some hiding in the guise of philanthropy. The plot rises to more than one breathless police action. Both detectives learn something about the workings of friendship along the way. Mason combines two tricky investigations with his usual penetrating insight into human nature. His two likeable, complex characters are irresistible. It’s hard to imagine a better crime novel, nor indeed, a more unique series.

Bits

▪ Looking at Ryan with his bloodshot eyes, he finally spoke. “Two months. Trying to get work. Every day, man, knocking on doors.” (8)

▪ Her hair was scraped back, giving her face a no-nonsense, useful look. She could make someone flinch just by pointing her nose at them. (26)

▪ “Your job is to prove to me that you’re no longer the sort of guy goes rogue. So prove it.” (95)

▪ “She’s four!” Ray shouted. “She’s not someone else’s wife, she’s a little child! Don’t give me this bullshit about forbidden desire!” (115)

▪ “Over his hooded top he was wearing one of those hi-viz vests, and was carrying a helmet.” (122)

▪ “I think she knew whoever took her. Someone she trusted. Someone she was friendly with.” (144)

▪ He’d made a mess of so much, made so many mistakes, was more of a dipstick than even the Super imagined, but he hadn’t made a mess of being a father. (184)

Harlan Coben. Run Away. 2019. USA: Grand Central Publishing, Media Tie-in Edition, 2025.

[in-house grab] Simon and Ingrid Greene have three grown children: Paige, Sam, and Anya. Simon, a financial planner, has been searching for Paige who ran away some time ago. All we know is that after meeting drug-dealer boyfriend Aaron Corval, she became a junkie, squandering all her artistic talent, hiding from her family. Simon’s attempt to rescue her results in a public brawl with Corval who is soon found murdered. Ingrid joins Simon in the hunt for Paige; in a confrontation with another drug dealer, a jumpy henchman shoots Ingrid. As Ingrid lies in a coma, Simon continues the search for Paige, encountering more and more bizarre incidents.

Aaron’s father is lying to Simon about him; his stepmother runs a biker bar; Elena Ramirez is a P.I. searching for missing Henry Thorpe who is somehow linked to Paige; a killer called Ash is targeting various young men, one of whom is somehow linked to Henry. Dee Dee, Ash’s partner in crime, lives in a rigid, isolated cult led by con man Casper Vartage aka “The Truth”—a disturbing connection that feels overplayed. All immensely confusing to Simon and Elena and to us readers. But a DNA issue arises and some of the fog clears for me. Simon constantly berates himself, blames himself, for every wrong turn in the family. Very intricate plotting, often requiring the reader to make leaps in character backgrounds, but after all – it’s Harlan Coben! Of course they made a TV series from it.

Noise

▪ “He was slowly poisoning your daughter, killing her right in front of your eyes.” (103)

▪ “You were willing to die for someone you love,” Fagbenle said, moving in a little closer. “How much of a stretch is it to believe you’d kill?” (103)

▪ “I didn’t shoot no doctor. You ain’t pinning that on me.” He pointed at Simon. “I just shot his old lady.” (111)

▪ “Paige slept on Carlos’s blow-up mattress on the floor. We all fell asleep. When we woke up, she was gone. So was our stuff.” (133)

▪ “Evil exists because an airheaded bimbo, who started life as a man’s rib, got tricked into eating a piece of bad fruit by a talking reptile.” (198)

▪ “Go,” the old man said to Ash. “The Truth will always prevail.” (262)

▪ “Is it different for you?” Dee Dee asked him. “Killing a woman instead of a man.” (305)

Novels No. 125

 

Peter May. Cast Iron. New York: Quercus, 2017.

[in-house grab] Scottish forensics expert Enzo Macleod is working on another unsolved mystery featured in Roger Raffin’s book of cold cases. He’s not fond of Raffin who lives with Enzo’s daughter Kirsty. The amount of names and relationships thrown at the reader in the first few pages is almost overwhelming, and it continues. Bitter ex-wife Charlotte tries to prevent Enzo’s contact with their son. Enzo’s case is about Lucie Martin, missing since 1989, her strangled remains found years later. Serial killer Régis Blanc is the suspect, a pimp currently imprisoned for the deaths of three prostitutes, and likely known to Lucie through her work with rehab for released prisoners—he’d had previous arrests. Police found a love letter Blanc wrote to her, but no evidence that he killed her.

Enzo’s other daughter Sophie and her fiancé Bertrand have been beaten and kidnapped by strangers. Racing from one corner of France to another, Enzo is frantic to find Sophie, collecting his former lover, ex-cop Dominique, along the way. Lucie’s ex-boyfriend, Blanc’s wife, the parents of six other missing girls, police who worked the old cases, are all interviewed or investigated. Each element here, each new character, adds a challenging twist. Oddly, Blanc seems to be the mystery key for unlocking why Enzo or his family is a target. Everyone who knows Blanc said the killings were uncharacteristic, that he consistently treated his women well.

Try to keep your balance: author Peter May pulls off the surprises right to the end. To mix some metaphors, Cast Iron will keep you on your toes and on the edge of your seat.

Seen & Heard

▪ “A drinking, womanising old hippy who left his wife and child in Scotland and never had a serious relationship in his life.” (20)

▪ She had made it clear then that she did not want Enzo to have any part in her child’s life, and threatened abortion if he made legal demands. (22-3)

▪ Here was a hardened criminal, a man who ran prostitutes and had just served a prison term for violent assault, prostrating himself in front of a girl not much more than half his age. (58)

▪ “So naturally, he was killing his mother each time he murdered one of those girls.” (64)

▪ She turned worried eyes on Enzo. “Did he really say he’d seen Lucie with that man?” (84)

▪ Why wouldn’t Charlotte have told him that she had visited Blanc in Lannemezan prison? (99)

▪ “If it’s not Lucie, it’s Marie. One or other of them is going to lead me to Sophie’s kidnappers.” (196)

Chris Pavone. The Doorman. Large Print. USA: Thorndike Press/Gale, 2025.

Bohemia is a fictional co-op building on New York’s Upper West Side, clearly fashioned after the enduring real-life Dakota. Chief doorman is Chicky Diaz who is warily observing the unruly crowds passing on his street; the police shooting of a black man has attracted a huge protest nearby that could get ugly. That’s not the only thing on Chicky’s mind, as we later learn about his crippling debts. Emily and Whit reside in the largest, most expensive unit in the building. He is a wealthy, narcissistic businessman with dubious connections to arms dealers; wife Emily barely tolerates him, fulfilling her role in their luxury lifestyle—although her moral compass is ambiguous. Julian lives on a lower floor, feeling somewhat lost about dwindling finances from his art gallery, a risky business exchange he made with Whit, and the prospect of heart surgery. A crook called Justin Pugh has had some illicit dealings with those two, and reputations may be ruined—the worst nightmare of high society and the corporate world.

Pavone has penned a knife-sharp portrait of a wealthy super-class, lambasting their entitlement, their disdain and insensitivity, their racism and exclusivity. It’s an epic contrast with the lives of the staff that run Bohemia, especially Chicky, their favourite doorman. Yet all are aware of their fragile mortality. In volunteer work Emily tries to find inner peace, but a different street protest is forming against Whit’s corporate interests. Whether it’s the debt collector hunting Chicky, the troubles with Pugh, or potential vandalism from outraged street protestors, guns are close to all hands and something’s going to explode. A few pull-quotes will scarcely capture Pavone’s delicious social satire but I can’t resist offering a representative sentence (Emily is secretly volunteering at a food bank):

“No one cares what motivated Emily to be here instead of with the other school moms, drinking skinny lattes and debating international vacations and household decorations and college applications, giving each other advice about architects in the Hamptons and chiropractors in Manhattan, about juice cleanses and Pilates instructors, resorts on the Mayan Riviera and safaris in Kenya, interspersed with lamentations about the disappointing service, the aggressive panhandlers, the difficulty of getting an appointment with the dermatologist everyone goes to, who accepts no health insurance and has a personal net worth of two hundred million dollars. (201-2)

The author deftly immerses us in the extremes of the Big Apple at a lively pace, wonderfully evocative at every stage. The intensity of fine-timing in the climax is amazing; don’t miss this novel and hang on tight.

Chicky

▪ It’s not just talking on the phone that’s prohibited. You’re also not allowed to listen to music or play games or watch videos. Anything with a screen or headphones. (29)

▪ He was a lifer. This was a job you could do until you retired. Or died. That was Chicky’s plan. (168)

▪ “Your bill is ninety days past. We have no choice but to turn this over to a collections agency. I’m very sorry.” (234)

Emily

▪ There was absolutely no way that she and her children could live on nine hundred thousand dollars per year. (52)

▪ Emily was the type of New York society woman who was universally known within her tribe, and to the sorts of outsiders who paged through the party pictures in Town & Country. (187)

▪ “You know that having children is your actual job?” he’d eventually said. This was a particularly low moment in her life, and her husband chose to make it lower. (301)

Julian

▪ “I suggest we have the surgery sooner rather than later.” (68)

▪ His finances were teetering. His kids were leaving. His marriage was withering. His career was, quite possibly, ending, and so was he. (87-8)

▪ “But let’s remember that I didn’t make this deal for personal gain. I did this to keep our business afloat.” (179)