Crime Beat

A mystery lurks at the heart of Jassy Mackenzie’s latest column: what is a proper bookshop? Admittedly she does drop a hint of sorts: ‘One that sells new books.’ What bookshop can she mean? Does it have a name? If you can give the investigators at Crime Beat a clue please drop us a line on the qt, we’ll keep it hush hush.

The Chemistry of Death

I don’t usually read much when I’m writing – which has meant that since I’ve been writing for the best part of three years now, I haven’t been able to read nearly as many thrillers as I’d like.

But occasionally, I put my writing aside for a day or two and immerse myself in a book I know will be good. Lee Child can always distract me from my work, and so can Jeffery Deaver. And now, it seems, Simon Beckett has been added to the list of must-read authors.

His first novel, The Chemistry of Death, was lent to me recently by a friend. “Read this,” she announced, thrusting it into my hand. “And please tell me how I can get hold of his others, because the local bookshop doesn’t have them.”

“You mean the second-hand bookshop?” I asked. I know this particular friend’s book-buying habits only too well, and author royalties, to her, are a distressingly foreign concept.

“No, no,” she said. “The proper bookshop. The one that sells new books. I went there yesterday and they didn’t have them.”

“You tried to buy his other books new?” I stared down at the paperback with renewed respect. Yesterday wasn’t even Discount Monday at the local bookstore.

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently.

“Well, I’ll order them for you on Kalahari.net,” I said.

“Excellent.” She slapped me on the back. “You can read them too, and we’ll split the cost.”

“Hang on a minute. But I don’t…”

“I’ve got to go. Don’t worry. You’ll love it.” Before I could argue any further, she bustled away.

Well, I thought that since I’d unwittingly become an equal share investor in Beckett’s second and third thrillers, I’d better read the first one. So I did. It took me just a few hours. And it was great.

The book opens with a graphic description of what happens after a body dies – literally “the chemistry of death” that takes place. The decay, the stenches, the grubs and larvae that devour the rotting tissues. It’s shocking, but so beautifully written that it compels you to read on.

The hero, David Hunter, is a small-town GP who started work in this sleepy little village in order to escape a traumatic event in his past. But when the body of a local woman is found, and the police and time of death becomes all-important, Hunter is forced to reveal who he really is. He used to be a highly renowned forensic anthropologist, who gave up his old life after his wife and child were killed by a drunk driver in a hit and run.

Now, Hunter is forced to face his past again – and when another woman is found murdered, the village community has to face the shocking reality that one of its local residents is a psychopathic killer. But who is it, and will Hunter be able to track them down before they kill again? With twists and turns aplenty on the way, the book races towards its shocking denouement.

Kalahari.net takes about ten days to deliver, and after I’d finished The Chemistry of Death, I realised they were going to be ten long days. But seeing I did the ordering, and paid for half the parcel, I’m going to read both the books first. It’s only fair.

Jassy Mackenzie is the author of My Brother’s Keeper and Random Violence.