I, ALBERT PEABODY

In Schellhammer’s novel, an elderly serial killer chronicles an alarming string of murders he’s committed over the course of decades.

Albert Peabody sits in a Washington State mental hospital. Authorities suspect the 85-year-old of killing 10 people whose remains were left in urns stashed inside a mausoleum. Albert writes out his confession to Dr. Schwartz: He’d been a POW in the Korean War, then he returned to Spokane, his hometown, and married his high-school sweetheart. Their daughter got sick, and when a doctor failed to save her life, Albert took revenge on the doctor’s child. He confesses to multiple murders spanning the 1960s to the 1980s, mostly committed as responses to what he perceived as slights. He freely admits to other shocking atrocities as well. While Albert acknowledges he’s a monster, he doesn’t think he’s crazy. Schwartz reads pages and pages of descriptions of the man’s crimes but is certain that Albert is keeping something to himself, regarding an apparent deathbed confession of Albert’s father’s. Schellhammer maintains a consistent tone throughout these writings of a narcissistic serial killer—Albert continually addresses Schwartz as “Herr Doctor” and takes unmistakable joy in recounting every awful thing he’s done. While the author avoids graphic details, the killer’s myriad deeds and cold indifference make for a mercilessly dark tale. Beneath Albert’s playful narration, readers get glimpses into his psyche, as when particular questions from Schwartz infuriate him. The killer, on occasion, seemingly contradicts himself, but he’s very clearly not the most reliable narrator, and at least some of these contradictions make sense as the story progresses. There are a few surprises awaiting readers in the final act (some more convincing than others), leading to a gratifying ending.

A fascinating and relentlessly dour peek into an evil mind.