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Fiction Police Procedural

Erasing Memory

A MacNeice Mystery

by (author) Scott Thornley

Publisher
House of Anansi Press Inc
Initial publish date
Jun 2018
Category
Police Procedural, General
  • Paperback / softback

    ISBN
    9781487003296
    Publish Date
    Jun 2018
    List Price
    $19.95
  • eBook

    ISBN
    9781487003302
    Publish Date
    Jun 2018
    List Price
    $16.95

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Description

The heart-pounding first installment of the MacNeice Mysteries, featuring a sophisticated detective solving the horrific murder of a beautiful young violinist — perfect for fans of Peter Robinson’s Alan Banks series.

Detective Superintendent MacNeice is returning from a pilgrimage to his wife’s grave when he’s called to a crime scene of singular and disturbing beauty. A young woman in evening dress lies gracefully posed on the floor of a pristine summer cottage so that the finger of one hand regularly interrupts the needle arm of a phonograph playing Schubert’s Piano Trio. The only visible mark on her is the bruise under her chin, which MacNeice recognizes: it is the mark that distinguishes dedicated violinists, the same mark that once graced his wife. The murder is both ingenious and horrific, and soon entangles MacNeice and his team in Eastern Europe’s ancient grievances…

About the author

SCOTT THORNLEY grew up in Hamilton, Ontario, which inspired his fictional Dundurn. He is the author of five novels in the critically acclaimed MacNeice Mysteries series: Erasing Memory, The Ambitious City, Raw Bone, Vantage Point, and Middlemen. He was appointed to the Royal Canadian Academy of the Arts in 1990. In 2018, he was named a Member of the Order of Canada. Thornley divides his time between Toronto and the southwest of France.

 

Scott Thornley's profile page

Excerpt: Erasing Memory: A MacNeice Mystery (by (author) Scott Thornley)

It was the same as it always was, chamber music driving up and jazz driving back. But this time he’d asked her, “Why do you want to be buried so far from town?” Kate had smiled and closed her eyes — for such a while that he thought she’d fallen asleep — then softly, but with some strength, as if to ensure that the point made it through the haze of morphine and fatigue, she said, “It’s beautiful there. It’s a lovely drive. Not too far. I know you’ll visit. And” — breathing deeply — “if it was in the city, I doubt you would. Anyway, it’ll get you out of your head for a few hours.” She was right. He’d been up once a month for the past thirty-eight months. When he’d looked at her ashes, he couldn’t see the difference between them and the ashes he retrieved from the fireplace to sprinkle on the garden — he couldn’t reassemble her. And yet, below the ground, beneath a headstone that bore only her initials, KGWM, he could imagine her on her side with her legs slightly tucked up — asleep. And it did get him out of his head. A cemetery in the city could never do that — the sound of sirens, the headstones of people they’d known, the buzz of traffic nearby would distract from the solace of being near her.

He stayed this time, as always, past sundown, reading, watching for birds and announcing each out loud for the odd comfort it gave him — cedar waxwing, swallow, cardinal, chickadee, a rare ruby-throated hummingbird — not because he truly believed she would hear, but because he didn’t entirely disbelieve it. The kitchen of Martha’s Truck Stop stayed open till ten, and on the way back he stopped and ordered the same thing he always did: a hot beef sandwich with gravy, no fries, followed by apple pie and coffee.

He was just cresting the Canadian Shield above Lake Charles when the call came over the radio. “All units. All units. We have an anonymous call about a fatality in a beach house on Shore Road, Lake Charles.”

MacNeice pressed the hands-free button. “The caller — male or female?”

“Male. Over.”

“Did he sound agitated, Sylvia?”

“No, Mac. Cool as a cucumber, not hurried or concerned. Over.”

“Describe his voice — north-end, west-end, local, foreign?”

“I’d say foreign, but very educated in English. You can judge for yourself when you hear it. Over.”

“Thanks, Syl. I’m about five minutes away from the cut-off to Lake Charles.”

Editorial Reviews

This series will be a real winner.

Globe and Mail

The reader is . . . compelled to go on, in part because that killer, if not a superior, twisted mind, is a first-class jerk and we love to see such people get their comeuppance.

National Post

[An] impressive debut . . . Superb writing, complex and highly likable characters, and the occasional delicious burst of violence definitely make the next books in this series worth watching for.

Publisher's Weekly

Not since P. D. James’s Adam Dalgliesh has there been a police inspector as sophisticated as MacNeice.

Toronto Star

Other titles by Scott Thornley