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)