The Cases of the Two Phoebes

I was struck by the symbolism of the names used by the author Benjamin Black in his novel The Silver Swan. His main protagonist is Dr. Garrett Quirke, who was introduced in Christine Falls, a story about a "fallen" (like a soldier is fallen) woman. He is a pathologist in 1950s Dublin, Ireland, who has a great thing for the bottle. As do babies, quips a friend of his. He describes himself as having a quirk––he suffers from an incurable curiosity, so when a friend of his named Billy Hunt from the early days of medical school comes to him with the story about his wife's death by suicide, and asks that he not do an autopsy, Quirke does just the opposite.

He searches just a bit, finds a single needle injection site on the victim's arm, does an autopsy and suddenly drops the case. For a while. Quirke has discovered that the victim, Deirdre, has transformed herself into Laura Swan and, as such, had been dealing with a man of ill-repute, Mr. White, snowy of hair and attire, as well as with a Dr. Kreutz, a cross between bad medicine and good spiritual advice.

What concerns Quirke at present is trying to reestablish his relationship with his daughter, Phoebe, who has only recently discovered her relationship with him. She is not particularly happy with it, but she dines with him weekly. Quirke is now on the wagon, except for these weekly meals, where he is down to one glass of wine.

When Phoebe flies into the path of Mr. White, Quirke fears for her safety, and it is only then that he awakes to the danger around her. Quirke does too little, too late, because he is afraid to make waves, and it is left to others to save the day. I found the book a letdown. The characters' names tell you everything you need to know, including who the killer is.

There is another Phoebe who is in danger in Safe from Harm, by Stephanie Jaye Evans. One October night, Pastor Walker "Bear" Wells is enjoying an evening out with his wife when he gets a terse text from his 15-year-old daughter Jo saying come home. They never expect to see their teenage girl cradling the body of a dead friend, Phoebe.

Actually, it would be more accurate to call this girl an ex-friend. She was as different from Jo as it was possible to be. On the one hand, Phoebe seems to want to model herself after the girl with the dragon tattoo. She has dyed her once-blonde hair a crow black that leaves her blonde roots yearning to show themselves, and her skin is bedecked with piercings like the little air vents on a Corvette. One of her worst characteristics is that she seems to be one of those people who  always need to do you one better. She has been to a more exotic location, she has had a better ballet teacher and she plans to attend the Air Force Academy, among other things. Don't we all know people like that? I have not wanted to murder one yet, but I have come close!

The problem with this is that none of it makes sense, because Phoebe comes from a poor background, has been living in a trailer park and has been taking care of a terminally-ill mother, while her father lives in the lap of luxury with his new wife and two children. At first, Jo's tender heart took pity on her, but then these discrepancies and Phoebe's utter dependence on Jo caused a parting of the ways, and they hadn't seen each other for weeks.

Phoebe had recently lost her mother and moved in with her dad and his new family. Now, by all appearances, this troubled young woman had taken her own life.

After calling 911, as well as an acquaintance, Detective James Wanderley, Bear waits and thinks about Phoebe's parents. Phoebe’s father and stepmother had moved to the upscale area of Sugar Land, Texas and were living in one of the more wealthy enclaves. They were members of Bear's church. While the family seemed well-constructed on the outside, attending church, and successful at work, on closer examination it was clear that the picture was flawed.

Bear was glad he was not a cop, because it was the lot of a policeman to look for the worst in people, while he was always able to look for the best. Sometimes, this made for an adversarial relationship, especially when Wanderley assumed that Jo had to be a drug pusher and perhaps a user as well, until proven otherwise, preacher's daughter not withstanding.

What bothered Jo, though, was that she knew that Phoebe was a fighter above all things, and that not only did she not use drugs, she would not have committed suicide. Jo takes it upon herself to prove her case.

In an insightful way, Evans shows with subtle humor that just as being in a garage for a long time doesn't make something a car, spending an appropriate time in church doesn't make a person a Christian. There may be twisted personalities and murderers lurking among the pews.

There are many layers to this story, and because there are twists and turns that will catch the reader unaware, I don't want to give anything away. Certainly, Jo Wells is the smartest––if a bit foolhardy––heroine I have pinned my hopes on in a long time.

Phoebe bird

A Phoebe is a little brown bird. Both of these Phoebes were living out of sync with their families. They had that in common. They differed, in that one could have died to experience freedom from the nest, and one would have loved to be in a nest once again.

In the cases of the two Phoebes, one bird got what she wanted and one didn't.

But one had Jo on her side. I recommend this book!

Review of Gene Kerrigan's The Rage

The Rage by Gene Kerrigan

I've been thumbing through cookbooks lately and doing a lot of baking. Maybe that's why reading Gene Kerrigan's The Rage reminded me of following an Irish recipe for a beautifully concocted explosion.

First, read the recipe's preface:

"The law was something to be manipulated for profit and power. The streets were dark with something more than night. RAYMOND CHANDLER, Trouble Is My Business"

Second, preheat the oven:

Dubliners have good reason for feeling exploited and angry. The Irish Catholic Church is rife with scandals. Favoritism among the wealthy and powerful makes a mockery of the criminal justice system. Violence has increased; the homicide-by-gun rate in Ireland is five times the rate in England and Wales. The housing bubble has popped, and the financial system is broken. Unemployment is high, and trade unions are out of fashion. As one character says, "Today, it's like everyone's grateful to be a unit of labour, to be plugged in or pulled out according to their master's will." There is so much resentment against bankers and the ranks of the privileged that Dublin's top cop is afraid to be seen in a chauffeur-driven car.

Gather the main ingredients/characters:

Detective Sergeant Bob Tidey, whose former partner Colin O'Keefe is now the Assistant Commissioner, is the veteran of several high-profile Garda cases. He is the father of two young adult children. Tidey has been divorced from Grace for four years, but he still spends the night with her when she allows it. Their relationship "is what it is." Tidey has a few drinking buddies and friends, all of whom have their own troubles: James Snead, whose son Oliver was murdered 18 months ago; Trixie Dixon, an old burglar, whose son Christy is in a jam; and Maura Coady, an elderly nun, haunted by memories. Tidey is a compassionate and loyal man, who's also morally flexible enough to commit perjury, if he thinks doing so will create a fairer solution than if he tells the truth on the witness stand.

Vincent Naylor, recently released from a prison sentence for assault, is a thug who's done jobs, including a murder, for Mickey Kavanagh, part of Frank Tucker's organized crime operation. Vincent is a walking time bomb, but he keeps himself from detonating with the warning mantra, "no emotional shit, just business." By this he means, don't rape the pretty clerk at the shop he's robbing, only focus on taking the money. Don't risk prison for something measly like shoplifting a rain jacket. Only risk prison for something worthwhile, like the big heist he's planning with a couple of friends and his brother, Noel. Like Tidey, Vincent has very strong ideas about loyalty. Although Noel is six years older than Vincent, he's a follower rather than a leader. Noel isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but no one is better behind the wheel of a car.

Sift ingredients separately:

Tidey and Vincent feature in alternating story lines.

Sprinkle with a generous handful of woman trouble; spice with a relentless journalist, mixed hoodlums, and other rogues.

Set aside for fermenting:

While Vincent deals with problems created by his brother, the need for walking-around money, and the execution of a complex Big Crime, Tidey and Detective Garda Rose Cheney investigate the shooting death of Emmet Sweetman, a 42-year-old banker and property speculator. There is no shortage of motives or suspects; Sweetman had multiple affairs, and there were rumors he was preparing to negotiate with prosecutors looking into his shady financial dealings. There's plenty of pressure of various sorts on Garda brass and on Tidey and Cheney.

Blend carefully:

Evidence at the scene of Sweetman's death matches evidence involving another homicide. Ms. Coady becomes nervous about a car she saw two men park on her street. It's still there, several days later. These deceptively tame events bring the two story threads together.

Stick in the oven to bake. Brace yourself:

Kaboom!

In an ideal world, all of the lines between right and wrong are clear, and all choices are made on the basis of legal scripture. Needless to say, The Rage isn't set in an ideal world. Detective Sergeant Bob Tidey is a flawed hero in the mold of Chandler's Philip Marlowe, and contemporary Dublin's streets are as mean as those of Chandler's Los Angeles. While Kerrigan's writing isn't as lyrical as that of Chandler, this is a wonderfully terse and tense noirish thriller that hurtles to its inevitable, but satisfying, conclusion. It won the Crime Writers Association's Gold Dagger Award for Best Crime Novel of 2012. If you like hardboiled books that make you think, Kerrigan, an award-winning Dublin journalist, serves up an excellent read.

Enjoy.

Note: The Rage is Kerrigan's fourth standalone novel and was published by Europa Editions.