Category Archives: crime fiction

Instrument of Darkness, by Charlie Parker*****

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It’s a funny thing about long running series, how some of them become stale after a time while others just keep building. The Charlie Parker series by John Connolly is one of the latter, and with every addition to it I am more riveted, more amused, and more engaged than I was before. The Instruments of Darkness is the 21st in the series. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria/Emily Bestler for the review copy; that said, this is one of the rare times that I would have laid out full jacket price if that was the only way I could obtain a copy.

This book is for sale now.

Charlie Parker is a former cop turned private detective with a terrible past. He stepped out to buy a newspaper one morning and returned to find his wife and small daughter savagely butchered; the guilt at not being home to defend them was overwhelming, if irrational. He dedicated himself to finding the person that had done it, and making certain they never did it again. Since then, he’s served as a professional snoop on behalf of other wronged persons. Because he often upsets people with money, power, and twisted morals, he often brings along his own muscle when he works, or in some cases, contracts with them to bodyguard his clients during the process. So it is this time.

The job has to do with a young mother whose baby has been kidnapped from its crib during the night. Colleen woke from the first sound sleep she’d had in forever only to find the nursery window open, and Henry gone from his bed. Later her husband Stephen finds a blanket in the trunk of her car, soaked in blood, which, when analyzed by law enforcement, turns out to be the boy’s blood. Stephen tells the police that he is sure she must have done it, and he leaves her.

But she didn’t. Of course not.

In his last few Charlie Parker novels, Connolly has added touches of horror and magical realism, and it’s only made his stories better. In particular, he is adept at sentient houses or other buildings. Sometimes it really is the structure; at other times there’s some sort of being that lives there, unseen. In this case it’s an old house built from a Sears Roebuck kit over a century ago, and so he names it “Kit No. 174,” and after it appears a time or two in the story, generally as the opening of a new chapter, I get the shivers just seeing the name. The narration tells us, “No one had ever spent long in it—or no one had ever lived in it for long, which is not the same thing. No, not the same thing at all.” There are some minor references to other houses that have appeared in the series, and these will delight the faithful readers that remember them; it did me. However, newbies that are just starting this series will be fine.

The recurring characters shine brightly here. The attorney that often hires Parker, Moxie Castin, opens the book, and we get a resonant character sketch:

“Moxie Castin was easy to underestimate, but only on first impression. He was overweight by the equivalent of a small child, didn’t use one word in public when five others were loitering nearby with nothing better to do, and had a taste for ties reminiscent of the markings of poisonous insects or the nightmares of LSD survivors…He lost cases, but not many, and his friends far outnumbered his enemies.”

Other recurring characters are the Fulci brothers, and when I see their names, I smile. They’re described as “two wrecking balls in human form.” Another is Sabine, a shy, tortured psychic that just wants the dead to go away and leave her alone, and best of all, Angel and Louis, a lawless couple of friends—the word “couple” applies in two different ways here—that Parker hires when things get spicy. If I smile when we are joined by the Fulcis, I beam when I see Angel and Louis. And in a nod to series regulars, there’s a point when Parker simply tells someone, “They’re coming,” and he doesn’t say who, but of course, we know exactly who. (Later he explains them for the uninitiated.) There’s a favorite passage of mine in which Parker is concluding an interview, done in a restaurant, and when he and the other person emerge, she sees them and asks,

“Are they with you?’

“They’re my associates.’

“They don’t look like private detectives. Don’t take this the wrong way, but they look like criminals. If they came into the store, I’d lie down on the floor with my hands behind my head.’

“Sometimes that’s precisely the effect we seek.’”

Oh, there’s so much more, but you need to find these things for yourself. The story is on the gritty side, but not nearly as much so as some of the others in the series. In fact, I generally have a policy of not reading this series at bedtime, lest it enter my dreams. I violated that policy once, and I did indeed have a dreadful night afterward. And so I behaved myself until I hit the last twenty percent, and at that point, I knew I would read it until it was done, regardless of the time or proximity to lights out, because I had to see the resolution. I had guessed, long before, whodunit, but that felt beside the point. So I stayed up and saw it through…and I’m not a bit sorry.

Highly recommended to those that love the genre, and especially to Charlie Parker buffs.

Darling Girls, by Sally Hepworth****

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Sally Hepworth writes creepy, spooky stories involving families, and I have friends that swear by her, but this is the first of her books that I’ve read. My thanks go to Macmillan Audio, St. Martin’s Press, and NetGalley for the invitation to read and review. This book will be available to the public April 23, 2024.

Jessica, Norah and Alicia are closer than most sisters, even though they are not biologically related. All three spent most of their formative years at an Australian foster home called Wild Meadows, under the gimlet eye of Miss Fairchild, an abusive foster parent. Miss Fairchild was adept at keeping up appearances, but once a visitor—an infrequent occurrence—was gone, the place got dark. The woman was cruel and unpredictable, dreaming up horrifying punishments for even slight perceived infractions. Open rebellion was unthinkable. But it was when she began accepting babies that they resolved to turn her in.

Now all are grown, but they remain tightly bonded, and the call comes in: bones have been found under the foundation of the razed house. They must all report to the local police, which in turn means returning to the vicinity of Wild Meadows.

I can see why this author has such a loyal following. The way the narrative flows is flawless, and although we transition often from the past to the present as well as between the three girls’ stories, there’s never even momentary confusion. The list of characters is kept manageable, and all of them are believable. I begin reading via audiobook because that’s the version that was offered me, but once I began, I asked for and received the digital galley also. Usually this is a necessity in order to keep up with what I am hearing, but I scarcely needed it. Narrator Jessica Clarke provides the perfect listening experience.

For me, the joy of this well written novel is somewhat dampened by the horrors of the girls’ experiences. The child abuse is so cruel, and so specific that I sometimes stopped listening early and went away with a ball of lead in my gut. I suspect that this is something most likely to be experienced either by those that were themselves abused as children, or—like me—those that have worked with such children. Although part of me still wanted to know what came next, another part of my thought that if I wanted this kind of nightmare, I should just go back to work!

Reader, you probably know what you can read and what you should stay away from. If this sort of novel is unlikely to haunt you, go for it. I doubt there are many that can do this thing better. With that caveat, this book is recommended to those that enjoy the genre.

The Hunter, by Tana French*****

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In 2020, Tana French gave us The Searcher, the first in the Cal Hooper detective series. By that time I was already an established fan, but I loved that book particularly well, for reasons I’ll revisit in a moment. Now we have the second in the series, The Hunter, and if anything can reduce this crusty old English teacher to a blushing fan girl, this is it. Two books in, this is already on my short list of favorite series. My thanks go to NetGalley and the Penguin Group for the review copy. This book will be available to the public Tuesday, March 5, 2024.

The series debut introduced the characters, with the protagonist being a retired Chicago cop that found this tiny Irish village on vacation and, needing a new home far from his ex-wife, yet affordable, discovered a bargain fixer of a home and decided to stay. The story’s main problem revolved around a nearly feral tween that kept popping up at Cal’s place. The scrappy little stinker that was relieving Cal of food, occasionally, and doing other unsettling things turned out to be a girl; her name is Teresa, but she’s known as Trey. Her family was in dire straights following the departure of Trey’s father; her brother had left, intending to return, but never had. The mystery was where Trey’s brother had gone, what had become of him, and why. In the interim, she became greatly attached to Cal, who enjoyed her company and taught her some woodworking skills, but also kept a careful distance, lest rumors start and grow.

Now Trey is a bit older, and she is more civilized. She is close to both Cal and Lena, the local woman that Cal has been seeing. But as life settles into a civilized hum, one that would be comfortable had climate change not created a drought that has local farmers at the near end of their wits and their bank accounts, the unexpected happens once again: Johnny Reddy, Trey’s no-account father, has returned. Cal is prepared to step back, if need be, in case Trey wishes to bond with her actual dad rather than himself. Meanwhile, Johnny vows to visit Cal with some local moonshine, and “make a night of it.”

“Trey says nothing. If he does that, she’ll get Cal’s rifle and blow his fucking foot off, and see can he make his way down the mountain to Cal’s after that.”

Johnny never succeeds in bonding with Cal, who doesn’t like the look of him. “Johnny gives him the urge to pat him down and ask him where he’s headed. There are guys like that, who flunk the sniff test just going to the store; it’s a good cop’s job to work out whether they’re actually doing something hinky, or whether it’s just that they will be sooner or later, probably sooner.”

The village is a tiny one, and outsiders are few. Everyone in the vicinity knows that Johnny’s back; everyone wonders what he’s up to. They haven’t long to wait; he’s brought a man with him, one whose family once lived here, or so he says; and the man is interested in seeing if there’s gold on some of the local properties. “He has a rich man’s smile, easy and understated, the smile of a man who isn’t required to put in effort.”  Now the question is whether this “plastic Paddy” is a shyster trying to rip off the locals, or if he is someone that Johnny is seeking to fleece. Meanwhile, Trey has a different agenda, a private one.

The thing that makes this story so much better than your standard mystery is the characterization. If you are in search of a thriller that is all page-turning action, this isn’t your book. However, if you love a layered story with complex, convincing characters, this is for you. I said in my previous review of the first in the series that Trey is what makes an otherwise solid story a golden one, and that’s even truer here. One could even argue that it’s really her series, with Cal existing as scaffolding. Time will tell.

In particular, though, anyone that works with, or has worked with at risk youth cannot, must not miss this story. French has taken hold of my heartstrings hard, and I don’t want her to let go. Highly recommended.

Finlay Donovan Rolls the Dice, by Elle Cosimano*****

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“I’m telling you, Finlay, this book is good. This whole SERIES is good. The plots may be a little far-fetched, but these characters are so real! It’s like they just jump off the page!“

Finlay Donovan Rolls the Dice is the fourth in the raucously entertaining series by Elle Cosimano. My thanks go to the Minotaur and St. Martin’s Press Influencer Program and NetGalley for the review copy. It will be available to the public Tuesday, March 5, 2024.

At the end of the previous book, Javi, Finn’s nanny Vero’s boyfriend, was abducted by mobsters that wanted to collect a gambling debt incurred by Vero. In this one, the two women plan to travel to Atlantic City to rescue him, with the cover story of needing time to unwind. However, things snowball, and before you know it, almost all the people they hold dear—and a few people that they don’t—are headed there, too. What follows is a riotous adventure with a lot of moving pieces. I love it.

More than any other, this installment has been controversial among reviewers. In the series debut, Finlay is an innocent, entirely law abiding single mother strapped with bills, work, and child care issues. She’s in the midst of a contentious divorce and her soon-to-be ex is an attorney, which makes Finlay’s efforts an uphill battle. She’s easy to relate to, and when, through no fault of her own, she finds herself with a corpse in her car, it seems entirely believable.

With the second and third books in the series, Finn, accompanied by the more street smart Vero, find themselves in deeper trouble. Just as they mop up one mess, another arises, until there’s a sort of house-that-Jack-built tower of problems that see both women in increasingly tenuous circumstances. They break the law once as a life or death matter, but then cannot safely come clean, so they do their best to put it behind them, but someone or something comes along to threaten the modest safety and security they’ve begun to enjoy. Bodies and crimes pile up, and now, with the fourth installment, the author can’t reasonably convince the reader that whatever happens next is purely an oopsie. Instead, she has to draw on other possibilities. Personally, I like it.

Finn and Vero are chasing down the underworld figures that they believe have abducted Javi, and there’s considerable risk involved. A couple of times I literally draw in my breath at the risks they take. Add to this the need to fabricate excuses to tell the myriad members of the retinue that have descended on Atlantic City with them, and it’s an ambitious undertaking.

In this circumstance, I no longer require realism. The whole thing takes on the flavor of a comic caper, what with the clown car full of women, including Finn’s mother; Finn’s ex-husband, who is in charge of the children; and various others (I am being deliberately vague here) that descend on them once they arrive. To put it another way, if Stephanie Plum and John Dortmunder—or if you prefer, Bernie Rhodenbarr—had a baby, she might be Finlay Donovan.  

If you need a good laugh, this book is for you; however, with this series, you really should begin with the first in the series, Finlay Donovan is Killing It. With just four in the series (and the audio is outstanding, too,) this will be a quick and hilarious adventure. What are you waiting for? Jump on in.

Starter Villain, by John Scalzi****

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I’m not going to write a full review for this one; my spouse got it for me for Christmas, so I don’t owe anyone anything. I will tell you, though, that it’s just what I needed, funny, warm, and of course, not even close to realistic. After all, it’s fantasy. The level of unreality is well crafted and consistent within the narrative, and it’s hugely inventive. This is my first John Scalzi novel, and I will read him again in a heartbeat.

Dogboy Vs. Catfish, by Luke Garcias*****

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“Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap,

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap.

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap;

Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap.”

AC/DC

This may have been the biggest sleeper of 2023. Dogboy vs. Catfish is a true thriller by Luke Gracias, one that grabbed me by the front of my shirt at the beginning and didn’t let me go till it was done with me. My thanks go to NetGalley for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

A couple of Goodreads friends raved about this book, and right away, I was curious. The title: not your usual formulation. Then there’s the setting; I haven’t read many books set in Australia, and fewer Australian mysteries and thrillers than fingers on my hand. And finally, the book’s premise: a well-to-do, famous, glamorous woman turns up at a lawyer’s office, and she’s excited, because she’s been married to this man she doesn’t care much about for nearly 18 months, and in Australia, that is the magic time length that will entitle her to take him to the cleaners, particularly with regard to her daughter’s support. He has a lot of money, but it’s about to be hers. She expects this attorney will be thrilled, because what a payday it will be! Sadly for her, the attorney has principles and scruples, and she backs away from the case.

But then the man—Dogboy, of course—turns up missing. He’s told his best friend that he is certain his wife is going to leave him and take almost everything, and he’s not sure what he can do about it; now he is nowhere to be found. Is he alive? Nobody seems to know.

In investigating the man and his estranged wife, the internet darling named Catfish Kelly, it soon becomes clear she is mixed up in money laundering and drugs. The search takes the cops to Thailand, where their informant is literally shot to death before their very eyes. And all of these things happen early, so I am giving nothing away. The book goes quickly at the start, then ramps up to an even more heart pounding pace.

It’s difficult, with a thriller that moves so rapidly, to find a way to establish characters. Nobody here is a truly dynamic character, but we don’t need a lot of character development. What is most admirable is the lightning quick way Gracias bonds us to Dogboy, whom we mostly don’t even see. We know three things about him. First, we know that he married a terrible woman who’s about to bleed his assets out from under him. Second, we learn early on that he is concerned that his investors’ funds will likewise be siphoned away, and to prevent this happening, he returns all of their investment moneys to them before he disappears, so that he will be Catfish’s only victim. And third, we know that he is unusually appealing to dogs, to the point where dogs that do not know him and have never met him, nonetheless seek him out, and also try to protect him when danger is present.

With just these three facts, given to us briefly, we cannot not love Dogboy. I’ve never seen this done so fast and so smoothly.

I know nothing whatsoever about Australian law or its justice system, and perhaps that helps, too. At one point, the investigators are burning through what appears to be a lot of the state’s resources without obvious or immediate results, and just as one of my eyebrows lifts and I begin to think that this could never…I realize that I don’t know whether it could happen or not. Probably not in the U.S. Most likely not in England. Australia? What the hell do I know about Australia? So instead, I just take the author’s word for it.

There is not a single misstep in this story, no slow part, no inconsistency. The ending is enormously satisfying. For all that love the genre, this book is highly recommended.

The River We Remember, by William Kent Krueger*****

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William Kent Krueger has been writing since the late 1990s, but he only came onto my radar in 2019, when he published This Tender Land. To read Krueger once is to want to read him again and again, as often as is possible, and that’s what I’ve been doing. The River We Remember is his most recent mystery, an achingly atmospheric novel set during the 1950s in rural Minnesota. My thanks go to Net Galley and Atria Books for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The protagonist in this stand alone whodunit is the local sheriff, Brody Dern. Brody is a thoroughly believable character; there’s nothing of the TV sheriff about him. When the wealthy, universally hated Jimmy Quinn is found floating dead in the river, Dern does not lose sleep while vowing to find and reveal the entire truth. His first response is his own deep resentment that Quinn had to go and die in what had been, until now, Brody’s favorite spot to relax. How dare stupid, rotten Jimmy Quinn ruin this special place with his bloated corpse? And his second instinct is to minimize the damage to everyone else concerned. For example, the Quinns are Catholic, and if Jimmy committed suicide, they can’t bury him with the family. If not suicide, then perhaps a family member could stand it no more and shot him dead. Again, if so, no great loss, and let’s make sure the family is taken care of. And so, Brody’s first instinct is to wipe down Quinn’s truck so that, if other authorities should become involved in the case, none of these poor people will have to suffer for it.

Then, he goes to the evidence cabinet and removes some of the confiscated drugs so that he can get a decent night’s sleep.

Part of what fascinates me here is the culture of small town Minnesota during this time period. People don’t lock their doors most of the time. When a prisoner that Brody knows is almost certainly innocent requests a sharp knife in order to carve something, Brody gives it to him, right there in the cell. There are a number of interesting secondary threads, and all contribute to the steamy, smoldering ambience in which this story is set.

But oh lordy, the racism. And in this, I know there is no exaggeration. The culture among the Caucasian population of this tiny town, with regard to Native peoples and those of Japanese descent is not so very different from what I experienced as a child, growing up in the 1960s and even the 1970s in suburbs on the American West Coast. It’s bad. It’s really bad.

A feature of Krueger’s work—a signature aspect, in fact—is the inclusion of American Indian cultures and sociopolitical issues in Northern Minnesota. In other stories I’ve read, it’s been the Chippewa; this time, it’s a Dakota Sioux man named Noah Bluestone, and his Japanese wife, Kyoko. The author develops his characters well, with no stereotypes or hackneyed pop culture. This alone makes his work worth reading, but there’s so much more.

Over the course of just a few short years, Krueger has joined other luminaries on my list of authors whose work I read without question. I highly recommend this book to all that love the genre.

Unnatural Death, by Patricia Cornwell*****

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Unnatural Death is the twenty-seventh installment in the Kay Scarpetta series by Patricia Cornwell, and it’s as good as they get. My thanks go to NetGalley and Grand Central Publishing for the review copy. You can get it now.

For those not conversant with the series, Scarpetta is a medical examiner for the state of Virginia. She’s moved around over the course of the series, decamped to Boston, and come back. So now she’s in her old stomping grounds, but all is not well. The obnoxious, obstructive secretary she was saddled with in the last book, a miserable woman that blamed her for the ouster of the corrupt man that came before, has been—finally—fired, but somehow, she is back in a different government position in the same building, along with the corrupt guy she likes working with, so it’s tense.

Our other permanent characters are Pete Marino, who’s worked with Kay forever and is now married to her sister, Dorothy, who’s a hot mess; Benton Wesley, Kay’s enigmatic husband, a forensic psychologist that works in extremely high level situations that he can’t tell Kay about, even when they have a bearing on her life; and Lucy, her adult niece whom she has raised as her own, and who is the daughter of Dorothy. Lucy is a wunderkind, a tech wizard employed by the FBI, sometimes on loan to the CIA.

I won’t go into the premise for this installment because you can get that in the promotional blurb, but I will tell you that by the ten percent mark I was riveted, and before the halfway point my notes say, “I hate being away from this thing.” A shocking development occurs that is much more impactful to those of us that have followed the series from the start. I have heard other reviewers say that they used to read the series, then lost the habit, so I will say this: if you have read most of the series but missed a book here or there, you can still get the full measure of this thriller. If you just missed the most recent one, that’s okay. But if you go into this book cold, your very first time reading a Scarpetta book, some of the magic will be missing. Perhaps you will read it and be impressed enough to go back and binge read the whole series. It’s not a bad idea!

Any author that writes a long running, successful series like this has to flesh out the main characters to keep readers’ attention. For the first few books, pure plot-based adrenaline rushes are possible, but at some point, there’s going to be a credibility issue continuing that way. I would have difficulty believing that a forensic coroner had been kidnapped by bad guys and hurled into the back of a vehicle, bound and gagged, even once, but when it happens over and over, I’m done and I’m done. Cornwell does the smart thing instead, developing crises that are sometimes more about others in Kay’s family, but that nevertheless spill over onto her in a big way. In doing this, she forces us to examine questions that have no easy answers. For example, if an extremely dangerous development comes up that could affect you or your family, but it is also a matter of national security, and one family member knows, should they break the vows of their office in order to let you or other family members know? Or should they keep it ambiguous, along the lines of, “Maybe you should stay home today?” What if two know, and you don’t?

One way or the other, this story is a wild ride. The tension is occasionally broken up by Marino’s fixation on Bigfoot. He’s obsessed, and it cracks me up when we’re worried about killer drones and enemies unseen, and then Marino pipes up about the big ole footprint he found in the woods. For quite awhile I have wondered why Cornwell hasn’t been made a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America. Hopefully, this outstanding novel will serve as a clarion call. Highly recommended.

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In the Pacific Northwest, October evenings are a great time to stay home. Of course, some people put on their hunting jackets, grab their gear, and head out into the woods; some are party animals seeking a good Halloween bash; and some are charitable souls that organize haunted houses and other seasonal attractions, with the proceeds going to good causes. But a fun fact is that a majority of us do exactly what I plan to do: curl up at home with my beagle, my book, a cup of hot apple cider and a bunch of Halloween candy that trick or treaters never show up to claim. Can’t let all that chocolate go to waste, now can we. If my plan looks good to you, check out these scary reads that I’ve collected over the years. A note of apology: ten years with Word Press isn’t enough, apparently, for me to adequately intuit all of the layout options. I have tried mightily to post each of these choices in a reasonable arrangement with links, but there are gremlins involved. Once again, then, I must ask that if you wish to read my review of one or more of these goosebump-worthy selections, please enter the title in the search bar. All of them are waiting for you!

https://seattlebookmamablog.org/2015/12/23/the-childrens-home-by-charles-lambert/

The Golden Gate, by Amy Chua****-*****

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“If I told a jury that Japs killed Santa Claus, I could prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. Everything changes, Sullivan, once you’ve got a different color defendant in the box. There isn’t a jury in this state that wouldn’t send a Jap to the gas chamber if they had a chance.”

4.5 stars, rounded upward.

‘The Golden Gate marks the authorial debut for Amy Chua, a badass author whose stories will be read for a long, long time. My thanks go to Net Galley, Macmillan Audio, and St. Martin’s Press for the review copies. This book is for sale now.

Our story is set during two time periods, 1930 and 1944, in Berkeley, California. Detective Al Sullivan is investigating a murder whose roots are inextricably tangled with those of another, in 1930. Our point of view shifts often, both in time period and narrator. Most of it is told in the first person, either by Sullivan or by the elderly Genevieve Bainbridge, grandmother of the victim in the 1930 murder, now ready, in full Mama Bear protective mode, to do whatever she must to protect what family she has left.

The narrative has a strong noir flavor, and I halfway expect to find Humphrey Bogart around the corner, smoking and looking pensive. However, there is something Chua brings to the story that Bogart never did: a frank look at the injustices of the period, from the immense disparity of wealth among the denizens of Northern California, to the shameless victimization of people of color, who were much fewer in number in this part of the world then, than now.

I put this information up front, because in the early portion of the novel it isn’t obvious that the racism isn’t being highlighted, rather than propagated. I nearly discontinued reading this book because the “J” word is a hot button for me, and I initially believed that it was being used as a lazy way to depict the culture of Anglo Caucasians during this time period. I’ve seen it done many times, the use of the racial slur against Japanese because the author believed it increased the story’s authenticity. In Chua’s case, it’s the opposite.

The solution provided at the end relies overmuch on the journal of Mrs. Bainbridge, and in places, the details of the murder, and the motivation for same, are a stretch. For that reason, I initially rated this fine novel four stars. In the end, though, I realized that the social justice component more than makes up for it.

I was fortunate enough to have both the audio and digital galleys. Although the readers do a creditable job, the complexity of the story, including frequent changes of place, time period, and point of view, make for a confusing listening experience. For that reason I recommend the print version over the audio, unless both are available together.

Highly recommended.