Library Limelights 263

 

William McIlvanney & Ian Rankin. The Dark Remains. Canongate/McClelland & Stewart, 2021.

McIlvanney I was not familiar with—a prolific writer in several genres, admired by his peers; his output included a trilogy featuring DC Jack Laidlaw, an unconventional detective in seedy 1970s Glasgow. After his death a few years ago, McIlvanney’s unfinished manuscript was offered to Ian Rankin to complete. And so, here we have a prequel to Laidlaw’s adventures wherein it seems that Rankin has done a seamless job with/for his former mentor. The crime-gang atmosphere also puts me in mind of the Lennox series by Craig Russell, a writer who even more darkly dwells on the mob rule of 1950s Glasgow. Laidlaw is partnered with DS Bob Lilley on the murder case of Bobby Carter, right-hand man of crime boss (one of three) Cam Colvin. The discovery of his body could be enough to set off gang warfare in the city. Not to mention some testosterone activity over Carter’s desirable widow.

Lead investigator Ernie Milligan is not exactly happy with Laidlaw’s habit of ignoring instructions and haring off to follow his own instincts, with or without Lilley. Laidlaw has a literary bent that confuses or bemuses his colleagues, while the authentic atmosphere pervades with chills. Meanwhile, Colvin and his crew are furiously hunting for the unknown killer. Rival gangs led by John Rhodes and Matt Mason have already put out their call to arms. Loyalty is a dangerous issue as some of the thugs in each hierarchy turn on each other. So many suspicions and suspects; many people could have wanted Carter dead. Little gore or violence, thank you. The writing is spare and clean, less is more here, as befits McIlvanney—known as “the Godfather of Tartan Noir.” Not difficult to see the influence on Rankin’s Inspector Rebus. A snappy, low-key police procedural.

One-liners

▪ “Bobby was one of us, no matter what poison John Rhodes spouts.” (162)

▪ “What kind of father wouldn’t want to check out the place where his daughter works?” (171)

▪ “I think Jack’s like that with Glasgow: he brings the city home with him, and that’s too much for even a decent-sized living room to contain.” (176)

▪ “Could this guy Chambers want back in his ex-wife’s knickers?” (205)

▪ He might keep splashing, but he was in a pool growing shallower all the time. (209)

▪ Paterson and Menzies had moved to the bar and armed themselves with bottles, ready to smash them, leaving jagged necks only. (246)

Multi-liners

▪ Laidlaw wasn’t listening. Lilley had become little more than a wall he could bounce words off. (25)

▪ “The law’s not about justice. It’s a system we’ve put in place because we can’t have justice.” (71)

▪ Looking around, he saw a copy of that evening’s paper dumped in a waste-paper bin and lifted it out. There she was on the front page, Colvin right next to her, their hips almost touching. (121)

▪ “Stupid, Jack, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself, beyond caring if anyone thought him odd. He was odd ‒ odd and stupid and sometimes wrong. But not this time. (241)

▪ “Ask yourself who’s more likely to have done away with Bobby. Who’s hungry to sit in that chair next to you?” (246)

Work ethic

“Much as I’d like to be able to rush from a murder case whenever summoned by someone who’s taken up residence in a bar ...” Lilley glances towards the barman, who had made the call on Laidlaw’s behalf.

“Thing is, Bob, you’d have been rushing to a murder case. This is where it’s going to get solved.”

“The Top Spot?”

“The streets,” Laidlaw corrected him. “Sitting at a desk sucks all the oxygen out of you. That’s maybe somebody’s idea of policing, but not mine. I’m good at this city, though. I would definitely make that claim. It’s because I keep doing my homework. You going to drink that?” When Lilley shook his head, Laidlaw poured half the stale pint into the remains of his own. “You can do deductive reasoning anywhere, but sometimes an office is the worst place for it, especially with Milligan nipping your napper.” (61-2)

Enemies

Thomson could feel John Rhodes’ eyes drilling into him. “Time may come when you need a friend.”

“And you’re offering to be that friend?”

“Unless you want me as an enemy?” The look Rhodes was giving him had hardened still further. “Do you need telling that mercy’s not high on my list of personal qualities? I learned long ago that there’s no point in being reasonable in an unreasonable world. This is the only time you and me will talk like this. And when I come for your boss ‒ and I will come for him one of these days – if you’re standing in my way I won’t think twice, understood?” (140)

His own drum

Lilley checked his watch. “We could grab a cuppa first ‒ there’s another forty minutes before the morning briefing.”

“I’m not going to the morning briefing, Bob.”

“How far do you think you can push Milligan before the top of his head comes off?”

“It’s an ongoing experiment.” (187)

Nelson DeMille & Alex DeMille. The Deserter. Ebook download from TPL. USA: Simon & Schuster, 2019.

An old favourite hits the ground running, co-authoring with his son, to make this a doubly powerful thriller. Familiar DeMille context: military culture—in a world of spies. No one can comprehend why an experienced officer, Captain Kyle Mercer, walked away from his post in Afghanistan some years ago, abandoning his men, to become the most vilified deserter ever. Only a handful of top brass have seen a video he made two years later, wherein he decapitated five Taliban soldiers who had clearly been holding him hostage. Then Mercer totally disappeared. Now, report of a sighting in Caracas, Venezuela, prompts Army CID Colonel Dombroski to send a pair of their best cops to investigate. Scott Brodie is the type of smart-ass jock (with restraint) that DeMille does so well; Maggie Taylor has her own war service history. Mission: find Mercer, abduct him, return him to the USA.

Their contact and support in the American embassy in Caracas is Brendan Worley, whose scruffiness does not inspire trust. In the dilapidated, decaying city where feuding gangs and guns rule, Brodie and Taylor manage to pinpoint Mercer’s potential location—a bordello catering to tourists and corrupt regime figures―and all hell breaks loose. More clues send our heroes south into the jungle with a cocky civilian pilot. Abruptly we get a chapter of of Mercer’s own state of mind, in his jungle Camp Tombstone where he trains commandos. Why he deserted is the big question, and whether it earned a high-level cover-up. The DeMille insights into Army psychology and culture are as fascinating as the mission’s changing tactics. Brodie’s well-matched repartee with Maggie and his natural banter are perfect foils for the nail-biting scenes. Even for someone not particularly drawn to war or military setting, this is a ten out of ten novel.

Bits

▪ War today, thought Brodie, was as much about public relations and spin as it was about war. (21)

▪ “You are not his lawyer, his priest, his shrink, or his life coach.” He advised Brodie, “Just find the son of a bitch and get him back here to face charges.” (152)

▪ ... the church’s spire was the only thing around that was illuminated. It was nice to know that even in Caracas, God kept the lights on for you. (237)

▪ Calling the police was not an option in a country where the vice squad ran the vice. (263)

▪ “The mission is blown, Mr. Brodie, and you blew it.” (325)

▪ “Maybe Captain Mercer didn’t betray his country. Maybe his country betrayed him.” (350)

▪ ... his final verbal message to the Army: I quit. I am no longer one of you. I am now your worst nightmare. (412)

▪ Brodie could pull his gun, but threatening to kill the only pilot in midair was counterproductive. (437)

▪ Other than the heat, humidity, bugs, piranha, crocodiles, and a psychotic renegade in the vicinity, this was a pleasant river cruise. (469)

▪ “And remember this—no matter what happens, we are not Captain Mercer’s captives. We are his arresting officers.” (502)

▪ Kyle Mercer was either suffering from the worst post-traumatic stress that Brodie had ever seen, or he’d found a new therapy for it. (530-1)

▪ In cases like this, after you answer the question of Why? you need to ask the more legalistic questions of Who knew what, and when did they know it? (550)

Louise Penny. The Madness of Crowds. USA: Minotaur Books, 2021.

Penny sets the stage, literally, for taking on euthanasia—in the form of a charismatic professor preaching statistics and logic in support of it; saying the recent pandemic proved her point. Abigail Robinson attracts crowds wherever she speaks, meaning both followers and protesters. And here she is poised to speak near Three Pines, where the Gamache family has returned after their Paris visit. The potential of an ugly brawl is not enough for University President Otto Pascal and Chancellor Colette Roberge to cancel the event so a concerned Armand himself takes charge of its security ... narrowly avoiding death by gunshot. A few days later, Robinson’s personal assistant Debbie Schneider is bludgeoned to death at the Three Pines’ New Year’s Eve celebration. Was Schneider mistaken for Robinson? Gamache and right-hand man Jean-Guy Beauvoir are up to their eyeballs learning more about Robinson and her life.

For the second time this year, I find the egregious MKUltra (Never Forget, LL 246) a toxic element in the tangle of possible motivations for murder. Everyone ponders the status of fragile children and the elderly as they digest Robinson’s plan for post-pandemic economic recovery. Surprisingly, local hermit and former scientist Vincent Gilbert has skin in this game. The police mull over evolving hypothetical motives for several suspects; their circular, repetitive arguments are intended to build suspense but go on and on too long. Moral debates, tipping points, spurious correlations to the fore. Penny verges on melodramatic language at times, something that put me off her earlier novels. As for Nobel Peace Prize nominee Haniya Daoud, her presence in the story seems too contrived and superfluous, IMO. While this book is as complex as ever from a finely-tuned mind, I’d say not one of her best.

One-liners

▪ She was like some genetic mutation awakening illnesses that would have normally lain dormant. (67)

▪ “I called my own daughter a burden.” (68)

▪ “It seems you pick and choose which truth you’re going to tell,” said the Chief Inspector. (115)

▪ “We all saw what happened in care homes during the pandemic, and now you want to make that government policy?” (121)

▪ “Well, you know more about murder and motives than I do, but I’d have to say someone who’s desperate to be liked might not kill the only person who genuinely does like her.” (200)

▪ Armand could feel his rage trying to claw its way out. (350)

Multi-liners

▪ Most of the scientists he’d met were profoundly superstitious. As were cops, for that matter. (35)

▪ With a melodic voice, Abigail Robinson was crawling into people’s heads. Mining their bleakest thoughts, drawing forth their buried fears. (42)

▪ He looked over at Colette, who’d been silent through all this. Was silence agreement? And if so, who did the Chancellor agree with? (148)

▪ What, Gamache asked himself not for the first time, had driven this ego-infested man into the forest? What had he done that demanded perpetual atonement? (199)

▪ Did mercy sound like a soft footstep in the middle of the night? Did it look like a syringe? A pillow? (321)

▪ Scientists might appear rational, but they were in fact completely at the mercy of their emotions. Because most never learned to face them. (407)

Deeply divisive

In a few short months a research project had become a movement. An obscure mathematician had become a prophet.

And hope turned to outrage, as two clear sides solidified and clashed. There were those who saw what Professor Robinson was proposing as the only way forward. As a merciful and practical solution. And those who saw it as an outrage. A shameful violation of all they held sacred. (17)

Grilling Colette

“Yes, I wanted her to come. It was the least I owed her father. I wanted to figure out what had happened. To try to get her back on course.”

“So you arranged for her to give a lecture?”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Look, I didn’t think anyone would actually come out. A last-minute talk on statistics, in English, in rural Québec, the week between Christmas and New Year’s? It had failure written all over it. Until it happened, I still didn’t believe anyone would show.” (96)

The message’s medium

She knew then that the professor was dangerous not simply because of her views, but also because she was so very compelling. So very attractive. And, most dangerous of all, so very normal.

This was no charismatic maniac. This was the woman next door who you trusted with your dog when you went away. If she said something was true, you believed her. (112-3)

Perspective

One of Gilbert’s favorite quotes was from Henry David Thoreau. The question is not what you look at, but what you see.

And Armand had told Vincent one of his favorite Thoreau stories.

When Thoreau was arrested for protesting an injustice, Ralph Waldo Emerson had visited him in prison and said, “Henry, what are you doing in here?” And Thoreau had replied, “Ralph, what are you doing out there?” (331)