An Authentic Voice

ColdKilling

‘Saturday. I agreed to come to the park with the wife and children.’ The first line of Cold Killing might seem innocuous – but read on. Before you get beyond the first page you know that this is no ordinary husband but a cold and ruthless killer. And, though you almost certainly won’t realise it until much later, you are being set up.

In the next chapter you are introduced to DI Sean Corrigan. As in many current crime novels, he has characteristics that separate him for the herd. Fortunately, in this case, he is not that somewhat clichéd maverick, a borderline psychotic whose wild, reckless actions would have him thrown out of even the most dodgy force. No. DI Sean Corrigan is different, in that the appalling abuse he suffered in childhood has given him an insight into the workings of dark minds. A darkness he recognises in himself, but which he has learnt to control, though it is a constant battle.

In Cold Killing he is pitched against a ruthless, intelligent and single minded killer. A killer who has detailed knowledge of forensics and who is obsessive in ensuring that he has no recognisable MO. Who deliberately chooses victims who are as disparate as they could possibly be. Despite this, Sean Corrigan is convinced that every murder was committed by the same hand. Before long he has identified the killer. And he sets out to nail him – by fair means or foul.

One of the most striking things about this book, and something that sets it apart from many other police procedurals, is the inside knowledge.

From the start, the narrative is shared between the killer and the cops, for the most part in the person of DI Corrigan. From the moment Corrigan identifies the killer, we too are put in the picture. From that point we are reading the killer’s narrative fully aware of who he is. There is some very clever stuff here, which I cannot reveal because of spoilers. Suffice to say there are twists and turns and several red herrings all aimed at making us look in the wrong direction.

One of the most striking things about this book, and something that sets it apart from many other police procedurals, is the inside knowledge. There’s a significant difference between research and knowledge. Here the author’s experience as a serving policeman leaps from the page. Often subtle, never in-your-face, these authentic touches are some of the best parts of the book.

There are some lovely touches too – a scene with magpies mourning a dead companion for example.

Hence we discover what a detective typically keeps in the boot of his car. What the offices in a police station are really like – cheap wooden furniture, uncomfortable chairs, computers that are far from state of the art and harsh lighting. We learn how he or she might feel when confronted by the body of someone who was killed violently. Add to this the conversation between the officers, which are ‘warts and all’. Perhaps best of all, these officers are by no means squeaky clean. The admission that evidence gets planted and that blind eyes get turned is refreshing.

Enjoyable as it is there are flaws in the writing. Not major ones and since this is a first novel they can be forgiven. In short there’s a tendency to show not tell. To take just one instance, in a conversation between the sidekick Donnelly and his wife the dialogue is very clunky. There are parts, especially in the beginning, where the adjectives are overworked. I also have a bit of a problem with the old clichés of the ‘learnt on the streets’, ‘working class lad who took up boxing to save from life of crime’ variety. Especially when linked to chunks of philosophising and ‘inner thoughts’ which ramble on and hold up the action. (In the latter case the author is in good (bad) company as Donna Tart spoils the end of The Goldfinch in a similar manner). In terms of plot, there are a few places where it is really OTT or implausible.

All it really needed was a bit of tightening up, a mite more editing and a wee bit less indulgence. That’s all.

Nevertheless, none of this detracted from my overall enjoyment. Luke Delaney can write and is perfectly capable of showing, rather than telling. Corrigan’s toughness and lack of fear is described by painting a picture of him driving through dangerous streets ‘with the window down and the doors unlocked.’

There are some lovely touches too – a scene with magpies mourning a dead companion for example. Someone wearing underwear ‘to make her feel less vulnerable.’ And excellent forensic and procedural details that are lightly drawn and that are, in consequence, all the more believable.

All it really needed was a bit of tightening up, a mite more editing and a wee bit less indulgence. That’s all. None of these minor faults take away from what is an exciting, page-turning read. I’m about to start the second book – The Keeper – and am looking forward to it eagerly.*

* You can see whether or not my eager anticipation was rewarded in my review of The Keeper, the second book. I posted it the wrong way round before I knew about scheduling.

A pathetic little man. A deadly killer.

The Keeper

In this, the second DC Corrigan novel, Corrigan is once more pitted against a dangerous killer. But, unlike the highly intelligent ‘cold killer’ of the first book, Thomas Keller is a pathetic little man. A sleazy, nasty little man, all the more dangerous for being inadequate. Not to mention utterly deranged. He is obsessed with a woman called ‘Sam’, someone he wants but cannot have. In an attempt to recreate her he stalks and abducts women who resemble her. At first he treats them with tenderness; this soon turns to viciousness when his captives don’t measure up to his unrealistic illusions.

On the cops’ side we have Detective Inspector Sean Corrigan, Detective Sergeant Sally Jones, Detective Sergeant Donnelly and others we met previously in ‘Cold Killing’. At the outset the case looks like a typical ‘missing persons’ incident and as such would not normally be within the remit of the murder team. However, due to Sean Corrigan’s uncanny ability to get a sense of a killer, he knows that sooner or later they will have a body on their hands. So it becomes a tense race against time.

As before, the book starts with the killer. This time we know his name from the outset. We also know he is a postman, so straight away we are ahead of the detectives. And continue to be so. Also, as before, the point of view alternates between Keller, Corrigan, Sally Jones and one of the victims, Louise Russell. This last point of view is a clever touch, which adds to the tension as the story unfolds. To say any more would be to risk a spoiler.

This linking of one book with the other is neat. However it’s only fair to warn you that the name of the killer in Cold Killing, the first book in the series, is revealed in the first chapter of The Keeper.

After we are introduced to the creepy Thomas Keller and his victim, the action moves swiftly to the Central Criminal Court, the Old Bailey. Here the trial that is taking place is that of the villain of the first novel. The final verdict ‘unfit to plead’ sees the perpetrator ordered to be detained in a secure psychiatric unit. Thus robbing the police of the satisfaction of a trial and conviction. And inflicting further psychological damage on Sally Jones, in particular.

This linking of one book with the other is neat. However it’s only fair to warn you that the name of the killer in Cold Killing, the first book in the series, is revealed in the first chapter of The Keeper. So if you haven’t read the first book but intend to read it, don’t start with this one as it will ruin all the tension and twists and turns of Cold Killing. I think this should be pointed out to prospective readers by the publishers.

One of the things that set Luke Delaney apart from many other crime writers is the fact that he is an ex-Murder Squad detective. Consequently the settings are authentic, rather than researched. Throughout the book, fascinating insights take us into the real world of the police, warts and all. Among these, DI Corrigan’s views on the transfer of the Forensic Laboratory from the Home Office to the private sector. His dismissive attitude towards Anna, the criminal psychiatrist. The descriptions of the effects of lack of sleep and the overwhelming weariness that afflicts officers during a case. And the, sometimes fatal, effect this has on family life. There are many such realistic touches.

The descriptions of sexual violence and intimacy border on the pornographic. At times these descriptions are very well written, but they are dwelt on and repeated in a way that I find disturbing.

Two things in particular spoilt my enjoyment of what is essentially an original, fast paced thriller. While there are at times perceptive glimpses into the workings of the mind of the killer and the thought processes of the police and other characters, these are outweighed by the rambling and irritating repetitions of ‘inner thoughts’ and descriptions. The second bothersome element is the fact that the descriptions of sexual violence and intimacy border on the pornographic. At times these descriptions are very well written, but they are dwelt on and repeated in a way that I find disturbing.

All this became so wearisome that at one point I seriously considered abandoning the book. It really does need a thorough edit and has all the hallmarks of a second book rushed out to capitalise on the success of the first. I should point out, however, that I am reading both as a reader and a writer, so things that bother me while wearing my ‘writer hat’ may not bother another reader.

There are plenty of positives about this book, lots of good things. This is evidenced by the plethora of five stars. Indeed all reviews average out at 4.18, which is very high indeed and proves how popular Luke Delaney has become. I’d also like to add that I applaud him for experimenting both with points of view and in not sticking to the same type of criminal. I will be interested to know what he does next.