Death at the Sign of the Rook, by Kate Atkinson.

 

   

         Ex-Detective Jackson Brodie is now a Private Detective doing the gumshoe work usually associated with ex-coppers, which is making a living off the surveillance of extra-marital sinners and the like;  now he has been instructed to find a missing painting thought to have been stolen by an old Yorkshire lady’s last caregiver.  But his new employers do not strike him with confidence, either – they are too dismissive of the painting’s value (just an old keepsake, sentimental value only’), especially in light of the ruthless evaluation of everything else in the house:  ‘Lady with a Weasel’ (well, what else could that fur ball be, sitting on her lap, thinks Jackson when he sees a rare photo of the painting.  Jackson’s knowledge of fine art is minimal at best.)

  Something Stinks in the State of Denmark, reflects Jackson later, when another painting by Turner is audaciously removed from a stately home not too far from the first theft, the stately home now being reduced to running Murder Mystery Weekends in a part of the building converted into a hotel for paying guests by the sons of local aristocrat Lady Milton.  Sadly, it would seem that her Secretary went missing the same time that the Turner was cut from its frame:  too many coincidences, thinks Brody (and everyone else!)

            Ms Atkinson has decided to follow the ironclad rules of the classic Detective fictional story here:  a troupe of actors hired for the Mystery Weekend;  a motley collection of guests including the local vicar, an army major (lost a leg in Afghanistan, no less!), Jackson himself as the pillar of logic and lightning converter of clues; oh, and don’t forget the mysterious caregiver/secretary, who also returns to stir up the waters – which aren’t waters at all, but a blinding snowstorm, which traps everyone in place when the power fails.  And guess what is revealed when the lights come back on?  Well. You’ll have to read the book to find out.

            And what a book!  Ms Atkinson has never been better at setting the scene, providing each great character with a backstory that is entirely rational but exceptional, and when the plot’s end is finally revealed the reader has to take off their hat (whether wearing one or not!) to the relentlessly perfect dotting of I’s and crossing of t’s – there is absolutely nothing left to chance;  all is revealed in the most marvellous and witty manner.  And it goes without saying that the crooks are the most entertaining!  SIX STARS.   

 

 

 

Graceland, by Nancy Crochiere.

 

            Ex-TV Soap Star Olivia Grant wants to go to Memphis, Tennessee one last time:  she intends the trip to be her Swansong, her last flamboyant gesture before she takes her final wheezy breath from the oxygen cylinder that has been her constant companion for decades, thanks to her youthful 60 per day Camel habit – and she intends to expire, not in a hospital bed (she abhors hospitals) but at Graceland, home of The King Himself, Elvis.

            The glitch in all her meticulous planning is her daughter Hope, Olivia’s planned chauffeur:  she refuses to make the trip from Boston, citing heavy work commitments, not to mention parental responsibilities, but the real truth is that they do NOT get on.  The idea of spending more than hours in her mother’s company is akin to the Chinese Water Torture to Hope.  Sorry, can’t be done.

            Which is unacceptable to Olivia.  Okay, she’s prepared to admit that she wasn’t up-to-snuff as a parent, especially as she did all her filming in LA and they lived in Memphis, but the trip to Graceland is her dying wish – she’s going, dammit, and Hope’s daughter Dylan, pink-haired teenage rebel extraordinaire, will be the chauffeur in her notoriously unreliable VW Beetle.  Shove THAT up your nether regions, daughter dear!

            Daughter dear, when she realises what has happened, is naturally appalled, not for the obvious reasons that an old lady and a 16 year-old are travelling in an unroadworthy vehicle several thousand miles to grant the old B’s last selfish wish, but for the fact that 17 years ago, Hope left Memphis in a tearing hurry, pregnant and covered in shame and self-loathing, for she was paid to leave and take her secrets with her:  if ever she returned to Memphis the shite would truly hit the fan.  Now, Hope has no choice:  she has to get her daughter away from Memphis and exposure to several painful truths, not the least of which is the identity of Dylan’s father.

            This is Nancy Crochiere’s debut novel, and what a road trip it is – each protagonist has their own chapters, and their perceptions of each are a revelation, especially Dylan’s relationship with her grandmother;  sometimes being a generation removed fosters a respect and intimacy that is seen in her mother as being restrictive and smothering.  To add even more spice to the mix of characters, Hope’s travel companion is her cousin George, a true-blue friend-in-need – with one major flaw:  he’s a cross-dresser, adores women’s clothes and wears them at every opportunity.  Which creates many problems as he’s 6’5”.  Ms Crochiere has created three generations of women hampered by their perceptions, but always ready to forgive, and to love each other.  Feel-good writing at its best.  FIVE STARS.