Perhaps the glossary Ison gives to explain terms like “boozer” and “nick” should have included an entry for “mishegas.”
Divisional DI Ernest Hardcastle (Hardcastle’s Frustration, 2012, etc.) ushers in 1916 with whiskey, brown ale and murder.
No sooner does the Hardcastle family finish its New Year’s Eve toast than a knock at the door brings a sergeant from the Kennington Road police station with an urgent summons. A jeweler’s in Vauxhall Bridge Road has been robbed and its owner, Reuben Gosling, killed. Hardcastle wakes neighbor Sidney Partridge, who reports seeing a car with “one of those canvas things” and “them white tyres.” The detective soon discovers that a Haxe-Doulton convertible with whitewall tires went missing the night of Gosling’s murder. Its owner, Sinclair Villiers, is a posh gent with a snooty butler named Henwood. Servant and master alibi each other nicely. But Villiers’s son, Haydn, has a bad habit of borrowing dad’s car without notice. Although Villiers Jr. is supposed to be fighting in France, Villiers Sr.’s estranged wife, Hannah, admits that her son is home. What she doesn’t say, but what a bit of tailing reveals, is that he’s in London to bed his colonel’s wife. Worse than cuckolding his commander, young Capt. Villiers seems also to be receiving Morse-code messages from France about British troop movements, messages to be bartered to the Turks as part of a Zionist plot to establish a homeland in Palestine. There aren’t too many dots between the jeweler’s death and the Jewish state, and Hardcastle connects them with more speed than logic.
Perhaps the glossary Ison gives to explain terms like “boozer” and “nick” should have included an entry for “mishegas.”Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-7278-8312-4
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Severn House
Review Posted Online: Sept. 25, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2013
Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.
Another sweltering month in Charlotte, another boatload of mysteries past and present for overworked, overstressed forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan.
A week after the night she chases but fails to catch a mysterious trespasser outside her town house, some unknown party texts Tempe four images of a corpse that looks as if it’s been chewed by wild hogs, because it has been. Showboat Medical Examiner Margot Heavner makes it clear that, breaking with her department’s earlier practice (The Bone Collection, 2016, etc.), she has no intention of calling in Tempe as a consultant and promptly identifies the faceless body herself as that of a young Asian man. Nettled by several errors in Heavner’s analysis, and even more by her willingness to share the gory details at a press conference, Tempe launches her own investigation, which is not so much off the books as against the books. Heavner isn’t exactly mollified when Tempe, aided by retired police detective Skinny Slidell and a host of experts, puts a name to the dead man. But the hints of other crimes Tempe’s identification uncovers, particularly crimes against children, spur her on to redouble her efforts despite the new M.E.’s splenetic outbursts. Before he died, it seems, Felix Vodyanov was linked to a passenger ferry that sank in 1994, an even earlier U.S. government project to research biological agents that could control human behavior, the hinky spiritual retreat Sparkling Waters, the dark web site DeepUnder, and the disappearances of at least four schoolchildren, two of whom have also turned up dead. And why on earth was Vodyanov carrying Tempe’s own contact information? The mounting evidence of ever more and ever worse skulduggery will pull Tempe deeper and deeper down what even she sees as a rabbit hole before she confronts a ringleader implicated in “Drugs. Fraud. Breaking and entering. Arson. Kidnapping. How does attempted murder sound?”
Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.Pub Date: March 17, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9821-3888-2
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Scribner
Review Posted Online: Dec. 22, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2020
All these problems are handsomely solved at the unsurprising cost of making the human characters less interesting than the...
Just when you thought you’d seen a detective in every guise imaginable, here comes one in sheep’s clothing.
For years, George Glenn hasn’t been close to anyone but his sheep. Everyday he lets them out, pastures them, reads to them and brings them safely back home to his barn in the guilelessly named Irish village of Glennkill. Now George lies dead, pinned to the ground by a spade. Although his flock haven’t had much experience with this sort of thing, they’re determined to bring his killer to justice. There are of course several obstacles, and debut novelist Swann deals with them in appealingly matter-of-fact terms. Sheep can’t talk to people; they can only listen in on conversations between George’s widow Kate and Bible-basher Beth Jameson. Not even the smartest of them, Othello, Miss Maple (!) and Mopple the Whale, can understand much of what the neighborhood priest is talking about, except that his name is evidently God. They’re afraid to confront suspects like butcher Abraham Rackham and Gabriel O’Rourke, the Gaelic-speaking charmer who’s raising a flock for slaughter. And even after a series of providential discoveries and brainwaves reveals the answer to the riddle, they don’t know how to tell the Glennkill citizenry.
All these problems are handsomely solved at the unsurprising cost of making the human characters less interesting than the sheep. But the sustained tone of straight-faced wonderment is magical.Pub Date: June 5, 2007
ISBN: 978-0-385-52111-6
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Flying Dolphin/Doubleday
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2007
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