The
Last Devil to Die, by Richard Osman.
Who by now surely needs no introduction: his familiar and much-loved characters from his first three books about the elderly sleuths of a British retirement village have been smash hits, not least because he ably demonstrates that old people, particularly his main characters, can still run rings (metaphorically) around those much younger. (Chronically!)
The members of the Thursday Murder Club are grappling
with the news that one of their friends, antiques dealer Kuldesh Sharma, has
been murdered after receiving a terracotta box containing heroin worth a
hundred thousand pounds – then attempting to sell it on himself. Hard for the friends to believe, but that’s
where all the evidence points.
Naturally, the Club members are not privy to gathered
police evidence – except for the efforts of Constable Donna and her boss Chris,
who are miffed because the National Crime Agency have been mysteriously alerted
and are now running the investigation, including taking over Chris’s office,
AND the Senior Officer has made herself as unpleasant as possible, seconding
them to horse thefts. No wonder there is
mutiny in the ranks! Which means that
the friends know as much (or more) than the official investigators.
Needless to say, the dealers who were waiting for the heroin
also do their best to find the missing powder, and people start to die – Bad
Buggers mainly, but the body count is rising and the mystery remains as to who
will survive – and do they deserve to?
Richard Osman’s wonderful characters remain the same, reliable
and true to each other and themselves, but behind the humour and still-enviable
zest for life lies the spectre of aged vulnerability – that which every old person
fears: the terrifying loss of self, dementia. Ex-spy Elizabeth has to face daily the
gradual and obvious mental deterioration of her beloved husband Stephen and,
whilst he is still capable of making giant decisions, they must decide between
them what, when, and where to finish their long and beloved
union. I defy even the most stoutly
unemotional reader not to be moved by Elizabeth’s predicament; it happens to so
many thousands of couples and Richard Osman writes with great empathy and
poignancy on behalf of them all: thank
you, Mr Osman, for writing of old age with such humour and grace - my only
worry being that he says he’s going to give the Thursday Murder Club a rest for
a little while as he concentrates on a new series: well, all I can say is that Elizabeth, Joyce,
Ron or Ibrahim better not have popped their clogs in the meantime! FIVE STARS.
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