Lucky Thing, by Tom Baragwanath.

 

            Well, the reader is the Lucky Thing to be enjoying another Kiwi-As thriller from Tom Baragwanath – who lives and writes in Paris, but has forgotten nothing of his origins in the Wairarapa town of Masterton on the North Island’s East Coast.  Once again, we meet Lorraine Henry, ostensibly a filing clerk in the local police station, but her photographic memory and acquaintance/friendship with most of the town’s denizens gives her an advantage on the town grapevine that no-one else has;  consequently, she is always brought in as an ‘observer’, taking notes for the police chief as required, but filling him in on her opinions later.

            And there is much to talk about and charges pending if they can only establish  what happened to  Jessica Mowbrie, a young local girl from the wrong end of town ( Lorraine’s end of town), who had won a place against  the local debating team of Langsford’s an exclusive private boy’s college:  now she is in intensive care in the local hospital after being found deep in the Tararua Ranges by a couple of  Finnish trampers.  Jessica is in an induced coma as she been given such a good hiding that her skull is fractured, and her family is looking for answers – and vengeance, a classic case of privilege against poverty, for it transpires that Jessica and her cousin Michaela were invited to a teen party at a woolshed belonging to one of the rich farmers of the district;  their drinks were spiked, Michaela was driven home semi-conscious, but Jessica disappeared.  The last person to see her was Stuart, eldest son of the farmer.  Which shows him in a very suspicious light, especially when he and his parents visit the police station all lawyered-up before they were asked:  the plot is thickening alarmingly.

            And more tragedy is on its way.  No-one is exempt, rich or poor. There are a raft of minor characters waiting in the wings to add to a seemingly insoluble mystery, and no-one comes away unscathed:  Lorraine’s life is threatened more than once on a single night and she is starting to wonder if being a filing clerk could be a dead-end job (sorry) before the cavalry turns up in the shape of Constable Dion, saving the day but not every life.

            Tom Baragwanath has proved to be no One Hit Wonder:  his second foray into small-town crime in rural Aotearoa New Zealand is just as meticulous and atmospheric as his first, and Lorraine, who lost so much in ‘Paper Cage’ is well and truly cemented into her role as so much more than just a paper shuffler. Good on you, girl!   FIVE STARS.   

     

 

Never Flinch, by Stephen King.

 

            Shy, middle-aged proprietor of Finders Keepers Private Detective Agency Holly Gibney has become a firm favourite with tens of thousands of King fans after several hair-raising semi-supernatural adventures in which she found courage and determination that her domineering mother (since deceased, thank goodness!) would never have thought her capable.  Now she has firm friends and a viable business:  life is good – until a woman is found murdered on a popular lakeside path.

            Holly is friends with Izzy Jaynes, one of the detectives in the local police department; Izzy respects Holly’s skills and promises to keep her name out of sight – which is very much a part of Holly’s ethics:  at this stage they are just batting the breeze and swapping ideas – until another body is found, with a name on a piece of paper clutched in its hand, just like the first.  A serial killer is operating, and as the bodies mount up the names turn out to be those of the   jury in a long ago murder trial who found the accused guilty of child sex abuse.  He was subsequently murdered in prison by another inmate, then exonerated posthumously when new evidence (which should have been collected at the time) was found.

            The whole city is buzzing with the scandal, and to fuel the flames, a wildly controversial feminist is on tour of mid-west centres – she loves audience confrontation, thumbing her nose and middle finger at all the religious right-to-lifers:  she’s ready to die for the cause!  Which she doesn’t – but her hapless assistant has bleach thrown in her face and avoids anthrax by the merest whisker.  Oh well, Okay then, it’s time to hire a bodyguard.  And she decides on Holly (who never applied for the job but is perfect because she hides successfully in crowds and no-one is more observant).

            Last but never least, Sista Bessie, an acclaimed soul and blues singer is starting her mighty comeback tour in this very same city in the very same venue on consecutive nights – with a serial killer operating too, so the suspense should be unbearable.

            But it isn’t.  I think this is one of King’s novels that has missed the mark;  as always his characters are well-drawn but we know who did what, and when too soon, and there are a number of mini-spoilers every now and then that (in my exalted opinion) didn’t need to be there;  everything got slowed down as a consequence – BUT!  Stephen King is still the relentlessly honest chronicler of today’s Trump America, and ‘Never Flinch’ succeeds for that reason alone.  FOUR STARS.