This week, it’s a British Library classic, Mavis Doriel Hay’s The Santa Klaus Murder. Sir Osmond Melbury has invited his entire family, all four daughters and his son, with their respective partners and children, to the ancestral home of Flaxmere for Christmas. As is the way with families, all is not sweetness and light, particularly not Sir Osmond, who is wrapped round the little finger of his secretary Grace.
It will therefore surprise no one to read that Sir Osmond is found dead in the library, shortly after the Christmas presents have been distributed. The police are called, and after a complex series of alibis are aired, the wrong-doer is revealed.
I found this heavy going. The first few pages were almost a genealogy textbook, with the explanation of the family tree, and while it was relevant to learn that Sir Osmond treated his daughters particularly bady, the initial pace was slow. Some of the language has dated badly (“she flung herself into his arms incontinently” doesn’t mean she wet herself, but it sounds almost as if..) The ending was neatly done, but it took a lot of work to get there.
An abandoned barn, in a remote rural location in Norway. When the young police officer William Wisting is asked to accompany a friend interested in vintage cars, he has little idea that this will lead him to a case that he can only solve thirty years later. The barn contains a car with two bullet holes, and the driver was never found.
The story is told from two viewpoints: that of the present-day Wisting, a detective nearing the end of his career, and that of the young man, his wife with twin babies, and the conflict between needing the overtime and needing to be with his family. The past and present turn out to be strongly linked, and Wisting ends solving cases from both time-frames.
When It Grows Dark by Jorn Lier Horst may be several books into the series but also serves as an introduction to Wisting’s career as a detective. It is short, at 160 pages, but perfectly constructed, an exquisite miniature masterclass in plotting. (Full Wayne’s World “we are not worthy” bowing – it’s that good. On a scale of one to ten, definitely an eleven.) Pretty much everyone who’s due a Christmas present from me this year can guess what they’re getting.
An early start to the Christmas reading, with Margaret Mayhew’s Bitter Poison, the fifth in her series featuring The Colonel and the fictional village of Frog End. The Frog End Players are preparing their annual pantomime, but this year have chosen to stage a version of The Snow Queen instead. Marjorie Cuthbertson has decided that a new arrival in the village, a former model, would be ideal, and does everything she can to persuade Joan to take on the role. She has roped much of the village in to help, even persuading the Colonel to construct a sleigh, so when a member of the cast is murdered, he has a ringside seat.
Mayhew has a disarming lightness of touch, and I enjoyed this a great deal, but ultimately it came up short -quite literally, at 148 pages, with no sub-plots and the villain quickly revealed. It needed more plotting and detecting, but as a cheerful guide to village life (and the Frog End KGB) it passes the time in pleasant fashion.
To the Faroes this week, a remote group of islands in the North Atlantic, for Chris Ould’s The Killing Bay. The title is a reference to the regular whale hunts, that involve boats driving whales into a bay where the local inhabitants then kill them. After one such hunt, one of a group of international protesters is found dead. One of the last people to see her alive was Jan Reyna, a British policeman of Faroese extraction, who has returned for the funeral of his father.
Jan teams up with the local police, including Hjalti Hentze, and it quickly becomes apparent that this is not a straightforward murder, but that there are a number of vested interests, not least within the police force itself.
This is an atmospheric look at a little-known area of the world, and the difficulties of policing a series of islands linked by ferry, plane and tunnel. Everything takes time, and all the characters seem isolated. Oulds is also a screenwriter, so the story is well-structured, despite an initially complex series of shifting scenes. It is the second of an intended trilogy, and I will be looking out for the next instalment.