When you're twelve years old, playing with your friends and having fun is all that matters. That's what Eddie and his four childhood friends did when they were around each other. They even had an unusual way of communicating with each other at times; leaving messages in chalk.
The story begins in England, 1986. A dismembered body is discovered. A mysterious man comes to town. Let's move forward to 2016. Who's sending chalk messages?
First, I must say this novel has the potential of becoming a good screen psychological thriller. I was held captive once I began reading. This story is intense and gripping. Nothing is what it seems and with all its twists and turns, stopping at the end of a chapter wasn't an option.
Tudor didn't skimp on the characterization. Each character strongly described and just enough sub-characters to keep the story balanced.
I'm glad I read The Chalk Man by C. J. Tudor. I look forward to reading more of this author's novels.
*Thank you Netgalley and Crown Publishing for the ARC.
Calcutta, 1920.India is going trough an agitated period. The Congress Party is having more and more supporters and even non-followers believe that the British Rule is past its use by date.In these confusing times,Prince Adhir,crown prince of Sambalpore is murdered after an official ceremony with the Viceroy. Soon after this,the killer takes his own life. Captain Wyndham and his Indian sergeant Surendranath(a Harrow and Cambridge man no less and a friend of the murdered prince)find that all tracks lead to Sambalpore, a small kingdom with the added benefit of fabulous diamond mines.There is definitely no lack of suspects,reasons or intrigues and the investigation is not as obvious as expected.
The outcome is surprising and interesting. But what makes this an absolute wonderful book is the atmosphere. The colonial house of the British Resident,of course the palace of the Maharaja,the temples,the religious festivals,the lifestyle of this royal family,eunuchs and the zenana, the monsoon period,a golden locomotive loaded with bottles of champagne that runs the length of the dinner table,the gossip and the decline of both the British Raj and these small kingdoms. A wonderful Indian mystery story!
A classic setting,an enchanting English village with well defined residents and of course murder! Luckily Mordecai Tremaine is visiting some friends in this village and as an amateur sleuth he is more than willing to lend a helping hand to inspector Boyce. It is a nice classic detective story but perhaps a bit long winded (and some clues were not very hard to miss!!)
When the naked, mutilated body of a man is found in a Notting Hill graveyard and the police investigation led by Detective Chief Inspector Grant Foster and his colleague Detective Superintendent Heather Jenkins yields few results, a closer look at the corpse reveals that what looked at first glance like superficial knife wounds on the victim's chest is actually a string of carved letters and numbers, an index number referring to a file in city archives containing birth and death certificates and marriage licenses. Family historian Nigel Barnes is put on the case. As one after another victim is found in various locations all over London, each with a different mutilation but the same index number carved into their skin, Barnes and the police work frantically to figure out how the corresponding files are connected. With no clues to be found in the present, Barnes must now search the archives of the past to solve the mystery behind a string of 100-year-old murders. Only then will it be possible to stop the present series of gruesome killings, but will they be able to do so before the killer ensnares his next victim? Barnes, Foster, and Jenkins enter a race against time and before the end of the investigation, one of them will get much too close for comfort.
It’s pretty difficult to make genealogy and genealogists seem sexy. Records research is never going to be as riveting as blood splatter analysis or DNA, but Waddell does his best. I liked the link between the Victorian murders and those of the present day. As someone who has spent some time in family history centres and records offices, I could recognize many of the “types” who peopled these places. There’s always at least one creepy dude like Nigel Barnes’ nemesis.
Unfortunately it is cliché ridden (the handsome researcher with something troubling in his past, the policewoman with a soft heart, the stuck-in-a-rut DCI in charge). There’s potential here, but if you aren’t a fan of research or records management, this may not be the book that you’re looking for.
Not bad, but not wonderful either.