Review: The Killer in the Choir by Simon Brett
I enjoy listening to Simon Brett's Charles Paris mysteries on Radio 4 (especially as Charles is played by the ever-wonderful Bill Nighy, Frances, Charles's long suffering wife, by Suzanne Burden, and Maurice, his scheming agent, by Jon Glover - what a cast! When the late Geraldine McEwen joined them as Charles' mother, my happiness was complete), and I knew about Brett's Mrs Pargeter Mysteries - but until I came upon The Killer in the Choir in our library, I had no idea there existed a third series, set in the Sussex coastal village of Fethering.
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Carole Seddon has retired from the Home Office and moved to Fethering with her dog, Gulliver. Carole is a prickly character who doesn't approve of anything modern, never speaks to someone unless she's been formally introduced, and runs a mile from any suggestion of 'community' events. She is not a joiner, though she is a member of the Preservation of Fethering's Seafront Committee. Or at least she was, until the death of its chairman, Leonard Mallett; now the committee appears to be in abeyance.
Carole's neighbour Jude is a healer. She's much more laid back than Carole, and realises that Carole's fundamentally lonely, though she can't help being frustrated by her friend's refusal/inability to lighten up. I found the relationship between these two very well drawn.
Carole, who really enjoys the Fethering gossip just as much as everyone else does, decides to attend Leonard's funeral. At the wake, she's amazed to witness Leonard's daughter Alice drunkenly accuse her stepmother, Heather, of murdering her father. Heather is a quiet little woman who's hardly been seen in the village since she and Leonard moved into Sorrento, their luxurious house on the Shorelands estate,
'a pallid creature, who favoured anonymous colours: beige, light pinks and taupe. Though probably about the same age as Carole, she had the resigned air of a woman who did not expect post-menopausal life to yield any excitements.'The church choir is the only village activity in which Heather has participated. But before Leonard is cold in his grave, Heather's transformed herself into the life and soul of the party and is keen to set up a second choir for the community, with rehearsals in the pub.
Carole's suspicions are raised, and before long she's discussing with Jude the possibility - no, the likelihood! - that Leonard did not just fall down the Sorrento stairs; Heather gave him a push. After his money, no doubt (Leonard, we learn, has been 'very successful in his professional career, in the world of insurance.')
Although the police are satisfied that Leonard's death was an accident, Carole and Jude are not giving up that easily, so off they go on their search for The Truth. They start with the choir, which accommodates (as choirs tend to do) a rich mixture of eccentric characters - Ruskin Dewitt, the retired schoolmaster and terrible singer who thinks he's quite possibly God's gift to music, Elizabeth Browning, the mysterious former opera singer who likes nothing better than to tell the world about the Nodules that ended her career, and Bet Harrison, new to the village, newly divorced, and obsessed with her teenage son's welfare.
Then there's the rather neurotic organist and choirmaster Jonny Virgo, who lives with his aged and dementing mother, the new and ambitious vicar, Bob Hinkley, who's left a city career to follow his vocation but is already despairing of the locals' lack of interest in the church, KK Rosser, a washed up guitarist still trying to make a go of his band Rubber Truncheon, and Roddy Skelton, Alice's fiancé, an army major who's served in Afghanistan and Iraq. What's behind his façade of bluff bonhomie and generosity?
Brett assembles his cast and lets Carole and Jude loose on them. So far, so cosy mystery, but the difference here is that every one of these characters is well rounded and convincing. And although the structure is cosy, we soon learn that several of Fethering's residents have real life problems, some of them terrible and tragic. I was interested in each character as a person, not just as a pawn in the author's game. As in life, everyone has a story.
Which is not to say that The Killer in the Choir isn't funny; there are many entertaining scenes, in particular between Carole and Jude, and even on her own Carole is as comic as she is sad. Barney Poulton, who props up the bar and bores the barman rigid every night, is a character you might meet in any pub, and KK Rosser is a perfect example of someone still chasing his hopes of stardom, but now more in hope than concrete expectation,
'"And don't worry if you can't read music. I've had a full-time career as a muso for longer than I care to remember, and I can't read a note of music. Don't forget, Paul McCartney can't read a note of music either."
No, thought Jude wryly. But then Paul McCartney woke up one morning with the complete tune of 'Yesterday' in his head, didn't he? I don't see much evidence of your having done anything like that, KK. She reflected how enduring the myth of the rock star lifestyle was, how many young men had bought into the fantasy of instinctive genius, of having no training, no responsibilities, along with an endless supply of gigs and groupies....she had a feeling that KK Rosser fitted rather closely into that timeworn profile.'
Before we discover what did happen to Leonard Mallett, another death occurs. Carole and Jude begin to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, and eventually the murderer is revealed. But even then secrets remain, secrets that threaten to test Carole and Jude's friendship.
It's only at the very end of the book that we see a small and endearing chink appear in Carole's defensive armour. These two women will continue to muddle through together, and I very much hope that Simon Brett will produce further books about the goings-on in the village of Fethering.
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| Simon Brett (image (c) The British Council) |
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