Head of Zeus paperback edition - 2025
I read this over several sittings, as I couldn't quite get 'gripped' by the story. This is the seventh novel to feature the socially awkward, neurodivergent detective DS George Cross, and, perhaps, I may have enjoyed it more if I had read at least some of the other six. Thus, I came fresh to any character developments - of his family, his colleagues and his priest friend - which would have been charted in the previous books. The eighth book, The Tailor, was published last month. Cross has autism, and I find it hard to relate to that; my failing, not the author's - or the detective's! I did feel, however, that the frequent commentary on social interaction became a little tiresome.
Cross works with Joyce Ottey, who has recently been promoted to Detective Inspector; part of the dynamic in the story is how both colleagues adapt to this. Their superior, DCI Carson, typifies the individual promoted beyond his skill level - incompetent in policing and social acumen. These three represent officialdom and the case they have to tackle this time relates to the antiquarian and second-hand book trade; a subject dear to my heart and really why I got the book (cheap from a charity stall!).
Ed Squire runs a bookshop in Berkeley Square, Bristol. In his mid-fifties, he has followed his father, Torquil, into the antiquarian books trade. He, however, is in it as a businessman, not as an afficionado like his dad. One evening, DCI Ottey and DS Cross are called to the bookshop - Ed has been murdered, the body lay to the side of the desk. The surrounding rug and bare floorboards were stained dark red with blood. There were several narrow puncture wounds to the bookseller's chest. So, off the detectives and the reader set on a whodunit. Not Torquil, who had deep disagreements with his son over his management of the bookshop, as he had been in London at the time, but on his return had found his dead son. Was it Persephone Hartwell, Ed's niece? - who had seemingly taken refuge in the bedsit at the top of the building - in her late twenties, early thirties...clearly terrified. She was pale as a ghost and shaking involuntarily. She had long, dark curly hair and was dressed mostly in black with red tights. It would later emerge that, as a teenager, she had been impregnated by Ed and had had an abortion. Was it, therefore her angry mother or father Ian, just back from Spain, or Percy herself? Or, could it be Victoria Squire, Ed's shamed wife? Or Sam Taylor, in his late thirties, early forties, with his goatee beard, there was something of Hergé's Professor Calculus about him, who had worked for Squire's for 15 years as an assistant and was disgruntled with Ed's lack of interest in the real antiquarian books?
Another on the suspect list is Denholm Simpson, who ran a much humbler, less grand, establishment. More of an emporium of second-hand books. Originally, both he and Torquil ran this place near the Bristol Royal Infirmary together. Then a wealthy, childless widow, Sumner, a frequent customer of the latter, died and left him the Berkeley Square building - much to Denholm's chagrin and continual resentment. The two men hadn't spoken for twenty years.
Could it be the de Souceys? Freddie and Francesca had sold their late father's book collection to Ed, which had included, unbeknown to them, a first edition of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. Ed had then sold it for a mammoth profit and refused to give them any of the proceeds. Or was it Patrick Gibb, bookseller at Carnegie Books in Bedford Square, London? He and his firm had had a massive dispute with Ed Squire over several issues, mainly over auction rings and author hoarding for monopoly price-fixing. Denholm Simpson's son, Nigel, had worked for Carnegie Books but had left in mysterious circumstances. Was it to do with the Ed Squire feud? Did he harbour a grudge against Ed? Muddying the waters is a Russian connection. One Oleg Dimitriev, who owns the expensive and ostentatious Ashleigh Manor in south Somerset (it has its own helipad), as well as a yacht in the Mediterranean. His henchmen have been staking out Berkeley Square, with menace. Why? Ed had been involved in the sale of a letter by Christopher Columbus, which turned out to have been stolen. Dimitriev had purchased it for £2 million, and Ed pocketed 250,000 commission. Did D wanted his money recouped - at any cost? So, was the murder the result of nefarious book dealing or jealousy of the Squires? Or was it due to familial anger? Thanks mainly to Cross, we find out.
A major subplot involves Cross's father Raymond who, after an operation for cancer, has a stroke and needs fulltime care. His mother Christine, estranged from both father and son, comes up trumps to become that carer. Several chapters, or parts of chapters, deal with this ongoing family crisis. Not having read the previous books, the relationship between Cross and his parents was not particularly interesting to me and I flicked through much of it. What with the autistic protagonist, I found the book mildly flawed. I don't think I'll be reading any more mysteries by Tim Sullivan on George Cross.
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