I freaking love British mysteries. In book form, on the “telly”, any medium. Audiobooks being read by British actors are the best. I love hearing crisps instead of chips, jumpers instead of sweatshirts, chips instead of fries. Cops that don’t carry any weapons but their courage and cleverness. Name a British detective show from the last 20 years, and I’ve seen it, especially since streaming became a thing. And even before that I’d (sometimes not so legally) download the shows so I could watch them. From Morse to Lewis and back to Endeavour. Holmes, Poirot and Marple. Midsomer Murders, Foyle’s War and Jonathan Creek. All of it. I could go on & on. They’re just better than the American cop shows. With a few exceptions of course. I’ve read so many DCI series books it’s crazy. Set in modern London to the cozy English countryside, from the Midlands to the North & South. Hard boiled to cozy, historical to steampunk. I just thought I should make sure I mentioned my credentials, as it were. Sorry.
(Spoiler-ish)
It started off so well. The plucky old pensioners with the varied backgrounds seemed to be perfect for a cozy mystery. But my God did it turn into a farce with an ending so anticlimactic and a killer out of nowhere that I can’t believe it got past any editor and that the author got a book deal out of it. Usually, in a mystery, the author has to leave clues so in the end the reader can go “Oh yeah! I remember that detail now! Clever!” Not here. Without giving too much away, we get a reveal of the killer being someone another character saw a long time ago and just remembers from looking at a photo. With no other connections or clues anywhere else in the story that could lead the reader to think it’s plausible other than the author mentioning, at the very end, that this person was around then. That’s just one aspect of this crapfest that got on my nerves. Joyce. Oh boy. She was cute at the beginning. We unfortunately get a first person journal narrative from her. But starting out by saying that she has a face that blends in with the background, and nobody notices her and it’s her thing, but then continuously having her butt in when people are talking with forced ditzy comments. It gets old real quick. She’s supposed to be coming out of her shell because she’s old now, and old people just don’t care what you youngsters are about, they’re going to speak their minds dammit. Give us all a “what for”!
And Elizabeth. We get it. You have a mysterious, shadowy past job. But every time anyone mentions a city anywhere in the world, you don’t have to allude to it by saying you did a job there or went undercover as a waitress or drove a tank. It sounds cool on paper and it should be. But again, it gets old right quick and she becomes really irritatingly manipulative and un-likable. Especially to the actual police that are trying to do their jobs but are somehow overwhelmed by drizzle cake and sherry and sitting too close together on a couch with nowhere to put their teacups. Yes, a DCI with proper training would be flustered by tea & cakes. Really?
They break the law, this little murder club over & over, withholding evidence in a murder inquiry, getting records without a warrant because, of course, Elizabeth knows a guy who owes her a favour. What starts out as an interesting premise, descends into a puddle of uninteresting “plot twists” (being generous) and not so clever one liners. It stopped being cute when the author has Joyce tries to explain Tinder & Grindr complete with un-funny comments. Maybe the author will get better with more books under his belt. This was a first time novelist, a famous Brit presenter. But with all the attention this series is getting I was really underwhelmed and annoyed, especially with ending.
Sorry about the long post, but I felt compelled.
by schof1212