Library Limelights 283

 

Alex Finlay. The Night Shift. USA: Minotaur Books, 2022.

Not often does an author base their plot line on a shocking crime that copies a very similar occurrence years earlier (this may be the third such I’ve ever come across). Four teenagers working late in an ice cream shop were stabbed repeatedly; three died and Jesse Duvall survived. The townspeople can’t help remembering fifteen years ago, three teenagers stabbed to death closing the night shift for a Blockbuster video shop; Ella Monroe was sole survivor of that one. Same timing, same method, no discernible motive, and no arrest, although fellow student Vince Whitaker was a suspect the first time, before he conveniently disappeared. Ella is now a therapist, invited to meet Jesse in the hope that their mutual experiences would encourage the traumatized young girl to talk; she might have clues to the killer’s identity. Detective Joe Arpeggio resents the fact that FBI agent Sarah Keller is sent as a consultant to his team.

Many are thinking that Vince Whitaker may have secretly returned. That includes his younger brother Chris Ford, a newbie public defender. As a youngster, Chris had been removed from his abusive father to foster care when Vince vanished. The impetus to solve the recent case becomes almost a parallel hunt by Ella and Keller, each discovering different bits of evidence. And also provoking details of the old case. Indeed, Ella has formed a bond with Jesse who remembers something important. Keller is asked to mentor earnest junior detective Atticus Singh from the prosecutor’s office. When Arpeggio makes an arrest, it’s stunning, just one of several shocks coming to unbalance the characters (and the reader). Finlay produces a well-packaged, compulsive novel that will capture any mystery fan.

One-liners

▪ That’s what drew Ella to work in the trauma field: how little all the well-meaning therapists understood her. (32)

▪ “I gotta warn you,” Atticus says, “the lead detective, Joe Arpeggio, can be a bit, ah, difficult.” (36)

▪ Keller doesn’t have all the intel, but from what she’s seeing, Arpeggio’s team is getting ready to kill a mosquito with a sledgehammer. (68)

▪ Jesse yells into the night, a joyous howl barely discernible amid the thunder of the train. (95)

▪ “It’s like, once Whitaker took off and they found that knife in his locker, the investigation screeched to a halt.” (133)

▪ If she’s not guilty, she’s going to make one hell of a journalist someday. (231)

Multi-liners

▪ “Let’s say Ella told someone what the killer said to her but she doesn’t remember. Who would she have likely told?” (86)

▪ This was the lie: Jesse told the police she went to the store to use the bathroom. That she didn’t know the victims well. (103)

▪ “Arpeggio and his team darted out of here. Apparently they caught a big break in the case.” (132)

▪ She’s a therapist and she’s kept a teen girl out all night without permission. Not to mention the breaking and entering at the rail yard. (144)

▪ “I just want some information,” Ella says. “I’ll keep it off the record. I’m just trying to help Jesse.” (167)

▪ “You shouldn’t be drinking. You have a concussion and, no offense, but you look like shit.” (255)

Ella ponders

She thinks about the last thirty-six hours. Jesse hugging her knees on that hospital room floor. The girl howling into the night at the rail yard. The shrewd-beyond-her-years girl at the Starbucks who’s done a deep dive into Ella’s background. The hard girl in the firelight being told to leave by the homeless kids. The girl who stood by her when Phyllis had pushed her to the brink. Then she imagines the teen in her teacher’s bed—naked, if Chad Parke’s to be believed―Fatal Attraction style.

And, of course, she recalls Jesse telling her that she’d lied to the police. Jesse wasn’t at the ice cream store by happenstance. She’d been there to confront one of the employees—one of the victims. That’s not some trivial investigative detail. Ella decides to let it all marinate. Then she’ll decide what to do. (177-8)

Janice Hallett. The Appeal. Ebook download from TPL. USA: Atria/Viper, 2021.

Calling all competitive armchair detectives! ... this could be your biggest challenge yet. Truthfully, my expectations sank when I realized the book’s story is told largely in emails, text messages, and post-it notes. How dreary, right? And yet ... it turned into the cagiest, most perplexing, highly analyzed, and at times a very funny crime novel. Don’t let the cast of thousands hundreds dozens intimidate you; go with the flow, you’ll catch on. But I’ll help a bit: initially, a lawyer called Tanner asks his new trainees to test their acuity by reviewing all the evidence in a murder case and come up with whodunnit theories; someone has already been convicted and he’s preparing an appeal. You the reader are forming your own analysis.

Gossip and jealousy run amok in a town where The Grange Country Club is the social centre, and the Fairway Players enthusiastically present their plays. Newcomers Samantha (Sam) and Kel Greenwood are a married team fresh from volunteer medical service in Africa; now they work at local St Ann’s Hospital along with several of the other characters. Isabel (Issy) Beck, obsessive, boring, and generally disliked, attaches herself like a limpet to them: new friends! The two are welcomed as cast members of the upcoming play. Appeal also refers to the suddenly organized community effort called A Cure for Poppy, seeking financial donations for Grange-owner Martin Hayward’s two-year-old granddaughter. Poppy’s diagnosis of a rare cancer requires exorbitantly-priced drugs from overseas, according to Dr. Tish Bhatoa who is treating her. Tish also has a deep connection to Africa.

So we have two hyper activities going on: fundraising, steered by Sarah Jane “SJ” MacDonald, and the play rehearsals directed by Martin and James Hayward (father and son). They cause a flurry of written communications complete with speculation about medical care and funding progress. The sole person we don’t hear from is Sam, described only by others. Sam realizes the truth behind some improprieties and bursts out with accusations at a play rehearsal, to the disbelieving group. When she dies that night, theories of how and why mount quickly. The characters self-reveal in their writing. Did you consider every piece of evidence? Brilliant concept.

A Small Sample

▪ To launch this crowdfunding appeal, we are holding a black-tie ball. (SJ)

▪ Steve can’t drink Chilean wine and none of us will eat the sweets. (?)

▪ We must get together and reminisce about MSF. Is Sam all right now? (Claudia)

▪ As your disciplinary probation has nine months left to run, it is not possible to action a transfer on your behalf. (hospital admin)

▪ What a lovely friend you are, to want to check up on her consultant. (Issy)

▪ The Grange will have to invoice A Cure for Poppy for venue hire and catering. (Martin)

▪ Let me know when your clingy friend isn’t around—don’t want to cause more trouble in the ward zone. (Claudia)

▪ Hope Dad was okay with you. He’s under a lot of pressure and is not himself, as you can imagine. (James)

▪ Sam turned up here unannounced. I’ve only just got rid of her. (Martin)

▪ I’ll speak to Sam at rehearsal and tell her to keep any conspiracy theories to herself while we look into it. (SJ)

▪ Hi Tish, look, we have to run a full audit on this. (accountant)

▪ That insipid girl sent through her minutes, but when I saw the length of the document I lost the will to live ... (SJ)

▪ Builders have blocked the car park and won’t let anyone in or out until they get paid. (?)

▪ He said I was “Bhatoa’s bitch” and then something about “protecting a rapist.” He was quite obviously mentally unstable, but how did he know your name? (Martin)

▪ Don’t come tomorrow. I’ll take the minutes. (SJ)

▪ A woman burst into the ward and attacked Sam! (Issy)

▪ I SAID DON’T COME. (SJ)

▪ I ended up blurting out that we know she was the hoax benefactor. (SJ)

▪ She calls you clingy, a leech, and a vampire. (Claudia)

▪ Three people are not who they say they are. Three people masquerade as others. One does not exist at all. (lawyer Tanner)

Mick Herron. Bad Actors. USA: Soho Press, Inc., 2022.

My boy Mick! And his usual suspects—Jackson Lamb’s slow horses at Slough House, dumping ground for Regent’s Park (MI5) agents who screw up. Their numbers are reduced: Louisa and the insufferable Roddy (aka in his own mind: the Rodster, RodBod, the Rodmeister, Hot Rod, etc) are still there, so is Lech of the ruined face and Catherine the den mother. Shirley is reprimanded for her drug habit; needless to say, she is not cooperating. New on the scene is Ashley Khan who, wrongfully demoted (as they all say), vows revenge on Lamb for breaking her arm. All spend numb days at data collecting, craving some “ops” action to prove worthy of reinstatement at the Park. Until Louisa unwittingly leads them on a chase after a suspected Russian plant in the Prime Minister’s circles. That’s how it always starts, slow horses damaging themselves and their surroundings (Roddy runs over Lech with his car and Shirley ruins a tour bus) but some parts are salvageable.

The event does put Lamb in possession of a key asset in Moscow’s latest infiltration plan. The slovenly Lamb is generally about three steps ahead of everyone, into his favourite position of needling Diana Taverner, First Desk at MI5. Over at 10 Downing Street, they are nonchalant enough to leave important decisions in the hands of a conniving strategist called Sparrow whose goal is to control Regent’s Park. Ashley does not succeed in poisoning Lamb, but Roddy suffers. Shirley stands in as a decoy for Sparrow’s downfall but no one tells Shirley that. Taverner gets a turn as a fugitive on the streets. Mick Herron can weave an incredibly complicated web of hidden government agendas vs equally-clandestine domestic espionage, spiced with pointed wit about political intrigues, never mind the memorable characters. Beyond that, the author paints a more existential mood than usual among the unruly characters with once again, the city of London standing out. It’s a terrible thing, when the last page of a Slough House novel turns over.

One-liners

▪ “In fact, any time Taverner wants a dirty deed done, it seems to me it’s Lamb she turns to.” (82)

▪ Having a dick for a colleague means never having to say you’re sorry. (150)

▪ In her secret self, she thought of runners the way everyone else did: as roving germ circuses, scattering spit and sweat. (161)

▪ Current assessment, though: attempting to kill Jackson Lamb with a turbo-charged curry showed initiative and imagination, indicating that Ashley Khan might be worth getting to know. (221)

▪ “I’m going to use his head as an ashtray, and feed the rest to my neighbour’s cat.” (230)

▪ This caught him square in the mouth, not hard enough to satisfy Shirley, but she was aware she could be over-critical. (285)

Multi-liners

▪ “In my day, which wasn’t that long ago, it was the prime minister called the tune. Not his poodle.” (35)

▪ “Slough House isn’t a department. It’s a psychiatric ward.” (107)

▪ “Are you worried I’ve been recruited by the Russians? Don’t be fucking ridiculous.” (113)

▪ A parking space materialised: DISABLED ONLY. My boss, my colleagues, my love life, Louisa thought. (161)

▪ “Take the car,” Louisa said. “Try not to lose us.” (161)

▪ So that’s what he did, his vision gradually adjusting to the dark that stretched out in most directions. He liked the dark, Lech Wicinski; in the dark, his face was no more scarred than anyone else’s. (178)

▪ “Nobody needs to get hurt.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Shirley. (284)

The office

The wind’s tune has faded, and Slough House is as quiet as a mouse—it twitches and rustles, scratches and squeaks. Come morning its scattered cast will reassemble, and as in any office, familiar scenarios will play themselves out once more: the passive-aggressive feuding, the mind-crushing boredom, the ill-disguised hostility, the arguments over the fridge. None of this will ever change much. But as in any office, most of those involved expect it to, as if some larger drama is about to begin, one that will erase their previous errors—missed cues, mangled lines, early exits―allowing the spotlight to fall on them at last. It’s a reason for turning up, anyway; the possibility that their attendance today will mean they won’t have to be here tomorrow, and that their future, instead of this endless tedium played out against broken furniture, will be one of shining triumph, in which everything comes out right. (9)

Catherine and Lamb

Still by the door, she said, “Are you going to tell me what happened in Wimbledon the other night?”

“Doesn’t seem likely.”

“Because Shirley’s in the San. And Lech’s lucky not to be in hospital.”

“Which one’s Lech again?”

“You’ve barely enough staff left to run an ice cream van.”

“Getting through them nicely, aren’t we?” said Lamb. “If the bloody Park didn’t send replacements, we’d have this place to ourselves by now.”

“And if I hadn’t twisted Taverner’s arm, Shirley would be out on her ear. I know the phrase ‘duty of care’ means nothing to you, but casualties and rehab-placements go down on the end-of-year audit. Sooner or later, someone’s going to ask what you’re doing to your agents.”

Lamb had adopted a glazed expression, unless she just had glaziers on her mind. “I’d have paid money to see you twisting Diana’s arm. Did you oil up beforehand or just get sweaty in the act?” (39)

Claude (former First Desk)

He thought: Diana thinks, or wants me to think she thinks, that I’m really looking into Waterproof and not deGreer. Which means she either wants me to do that, because she doesn’t want me looking into deGreer, or she doesn’t want me to do that and is only letting me think she thinks that’s what I’m doing in order to make me think she doesn’t care if it is. So she either wants me not to look into Waterproof, or wants me not to look into deGreer.

It was good to have clarity. (66)