“It’s never a good idea to leave me in a room by myself.”
Kinsey briefly explores her childhood history of poking into other people’s
kitchen drawers, bathroom cabinets and living room bookshelves to give us an
explanation of how she often unwittingly uncovers a scrap of evidence that
might lead to an insight about a case she’s working on. Finding the name “Costigan” written inside
the cover of one of Nola’s books in her collection helps Kinsey to make a
connection to an unsolved murder that happened years ago involving
Nola. That’s just the catalyst she needs
to start fitting the puzzle pieces together, the spark she’s been waiting for.
And then we see again her well-honed instinct for psychological
manipulation as she verbally attacks her suspect: “I can’t help it if Bobby Callahan decided he
was in love with me. So the kid had a
crush on me. So what?” “So the kid had an affair with you, Nola.
That’s what. You got your t-- in
a wringer and the kid was helping you out.
The kid was murdered because
of you, ass eyes. [Ass eyes?!] Now, shall we quit b.s.-ing each other and
get down to business on this or shall I call Lieutenant Dolan down at homicide
and let him have a chat with you?” Such
people skills! Such language! Actually, by today’s standards this is tame;
you can hear worse than this on any of your favorite TV shows. But it works in this context and we are
inwardly cheering our heroine.
In the midst of all this, we are treated to a sub-plot
involving a scam artist working on her landlord/friend, which she solves on the
side in an impressive and amusing way.
Could this sub-plot have been left out without damaging the overall
work? Part of me wants to say yes, but I
think the answer might realistically be no.
At least some sub-plot action might be necessary just to create a
tension-release rhythm in the main plot.
It certainly seems to be a technique that is used in good mystery novels
on a regular basis.
Speaking of standard techniques: apparently it’s not enough for a detective to
solve a case and find the missing answers in a flashy or dramatic way. Apparently the detective has to be put in a
life-or-death situation in which it looks like there’s no way out. I’m not really carping here, just drawing
attention to what seems to be an all-too-predictable convention of the
genre. In this book, the conclusion
occurring in a practically abandoned morgue/autopsy clinic, it gives us a
rather surreal and fascinating finale that I found entertaining, if not
completely satisfying. The clever
solution to her predicament? Wait at a
crossing of hallways with a two-by-four and bash him in the head as he comes
around the corner. Yep, that’s it. If I placed a lot of importance on how a book
concludes (which, at least in this case, I don’t, really), this would be a
disappointment. It’s like the ending of
a Shakespeare play: “And then, everybody died, the end.” I guess Grafton could do worse than being
compared to Shakespeare!Next month's book; Pink Floyd and Philosophy, ed. by George A. Reisch. This is one of the newer works from the “Popular Culture and Philosophy” series which began with Seinfeld and Philosophy and The Simpsons and Philosophy. These books take out the “dryness” that can make philosophy hard to read, linking it to topics we love – like Pink Floyd! The subtitle, Careful with that Axiom, Eugene! gives an example of how lively the writing is. School is ending, vacations are beginning - we'll start with the first quarter of the book (Numbers 1-6) on June 7th. See you then!
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