Overkill is the 18th book in the Ali Reynolds series. Ali and her husband, B. Simpson, run a cybersecurity firm. This mystery features two parallel problems. The first is when B’s first wife, Clarice, is accused of a murder that she didn’t commit. B. wants nothing to do with the problem—or Clarice—but Ali is convinced that she should look into it. The second problem is that Cami, the young woman that works for Ali and B., is being stalked while on a business trip. Both problems create a tremendous amount of suspense for the reader, and Jance is an expert at juggling many threads and details without dropping anything, while making the story clear enough that the reader can keep track. I enjoyed this book a great deal, and it’s for sale now.
My thanks go to NetGalley and Gallery Books for the review copy.
One of the things I love most about reading a J.A. Jance mystery is the feminist mojo she brings to every book. It’s subtle and built into the plot, rather than reading like a manifesto, but her sympathies toward working women, both professionals like Ali, and humble housekeepers such as the woman accused here, is manifest. It’s not an unusual mindset to encounter in a novel these days, but Jance has been doing it since long before it was common. In addition, her pacing never flags, and I don’t get confused by her plot lines, even when there are a good number of characters to track.
This is the first time I’ve used an audio version to read any of Jance’s books; I had fallen behind a bit, so I checked out the audio to keep me company on a road trip. Karen Ziemba does a fine job with the narration. I highly recommend this book to those that love the genre; you can read it as a stand alone if desired.
I began reading the J.P. Beaumont series by J.A. Jance around 1990, just a few years after her first was published. I’ve enjoyed it ever since, an entertaining series that is usually set right here in my hometown, Seattle. My thanks go to NetGalley and William Morrow for the review copy. This book, the 26th in the series, is for sale now.
Our protagonist, J.P. Beaumont, known to his friends as Beau, has decamped from Seattle and has taken up residence in Bellingham, a medium sized college town near the Canadian border. However, much of the story takes place here in Seattle, so it’s almost as if he has never left us. Of course, most readers aren’t in it for the setting anyway. The plot is complex yet easily followed. At the outset, Beau is startled when a car pulls up to his residence. A young man steps out, and turns out to be his grandson, Kyle. Kyle grew up in Ashland, Oregon, which is a considerable drive away, and so Beau has only seen him during a few brief visits. Kyle wants to stay here now. His parents are divorcing, and he’s had it with them. Since Kyle recently turned 18, he isn’t considered a runaway, and can make his own choices. Beau’s wife, Mel, takes to the lad immediately, and he becomes part of their household.
Part of the problem has to do with the bizarre individual that Kyle’s dad, Jeremy, has taken up with. She’s closer to Kyle’s age than his dad’s, and when his dad isn’t around, she hits on Kyle’s friends! He senses that there is a lot that he doesn’t know about this woman, and Kyle wants to hire Beau, who works now as a private detective, to look into her past. Beau agrees, though he won’t charge for his services.
Before too long, details emerge about a series of recent killings. They may or may not have anything to do with the soon-to-be stepmom, but it’s hard to investigate one without the other, and before long, Beau is on the trail of a serial killer. Part of his investigations involve trips to the Rainier Valley in Seattle, my own stomping grounds, and soon I am practically purring like a cat as I read. The premise, that a killer may be lurking as an employee of the police department—not a “rogue cop,” which would be kind of a cliché, but someone that works behind the scenes, on the phones or in a clerical capacity—is fresh and works beautifully.
Alas, there’s one error that gets under my skin, and I am bothered by it enough to bring it up here, and it’s also where the fifth star disappears from my rating. In speaking to one bereaved family member after another, crimes get mentioned in conjunction with whether or not someone decides to “press charges.” Since I’m reading digitally, I highlight each such reference in blue to indicate a problem. You see—and Jance should know this, having spent most of her adult life right here in Washington State—you can’t press charges here. It’s the law! If someone is bereaved and they don’t want to pursue the case, they can choose whether to testify, or if they are subpoenaed, they can be unhelpful on the stand. But only the state of Washington gets to decide what charges go to court, and which ones die a quiet death. It’s true in Seattle, and it’s true everywhere in the state. I feel like a Washingtonian with a 40 year career writing crime fiction ought to know this. Such a large oversight by a veteran novelist is sloppy, and it annoys the bejesus out of me. To double down on it by referring to it eleven times in one book is egregious.
Fortunately, these distractions finally die down by the time we reach the climax, and it’s absolutely riveting. With this single caveat, I recommend this novel, which can be read as a stand-alone, to all that love the genre.
Seattle Book Mama 