A darker domain

With historical mysteries so thick on the ground, doesn't it sometimes feel like a horse race? ("Going into the backstretch, the Victorians are holding the lead, but the Medievalists are gaining, and heeeere comes the Age of Enlightenment!") Maybe that's why Frank Tallis has surged to the front of the field riding his dark horse, Vienna in the last days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Opening in the Hapsburg capital at the height of the social season, FATAL LIES (Random House, paper, $15) immediately transports us back to the sophisticated world Tallis captured in "A Death in Vienna" and "Vienna Blood." Dr. Max Liebermann (whose psychoanalytic methods give this series its peculiar fascination) and his friend Detective Inspector Oskar Rheinhardt are both at the Detectives' Ball when Rheinhardt is called away to investigate the death of a cadet at St. Florian's military academy. Despite his respect for science - including new theories of psychopathic sexuality that Liebermann is studying with Prof. Sigmund Freud - Rheinhardt isn't immune to the cultural prompts of his Germanic heritage, and his spooky carriage ride through the Vienna woods is like a scene from the Brothers Grimm. "There was something about a deep, dark wood that held unspeakable terrors for the Teutonic imagination," Tallis tells us. The same impulse will later grip Liebermann when he suspects the seductive woman he's romancing may be a witch. This alone could account for the deeper appeal of the series - the suggestion that during this transitional era, the equilibrium of both state and psyche will keep shifting between cool reason and dark romance. In this context, St. Florian's can be seen as something of a microcosm, an Old World institution buffeted by new ideas, some all the more dangerous for being imperfectly understood. Although the dead cadet appears to have succumbed to natural causes, his body shows obvious marks of abuse, causing Rheinhardt to take a closer look at the way foreign scholarship students - and indeed, all outsiders - are persecuted by the privileged classes at St. Florian's and beyond its gates. So, while it's always a delight to visit the ballrooms where Strauss is played and the opera house where Mahler is rehearsing and the coffeehouses where ideas are devoured mit Schlag, this smart series has far more to offer than decorative charm. Readers who like their mysteries with a little meat on the bone probably think first of Sara Paretsky and Denise Mina, who find sociological significance in every neighborhood crime. Val McDermid puts the same substantive thought into A DARKER DOMAIN (Harper/HarperCollins, $24.99), using a missing persons case to revisit the devastating 1984 coal miners' strike that tore apart a working-class Scottish community. The daughter of a miner long assumed to have deserted the union cause and fled to England now has a pressing need to locate her father. That near-impossible task falls to Detective Inspector Karen Pirie, who grew up in these parts and finds herself viewing the grim lives of the miners' families with a mixture of compassion and horror. McDermid writes with gruff eloquence about the worn-down residents of a region where "the men didn't easily take to women with an education" and the women found a variety of outlets for their bitterness. Had McDermid kept her focus, this story might have maintained its blunt impact. But by introducing a parallel plot, set in the same time frame and also having to do with a missing person, she loads the narrative with so much weight that it falls right into the pit she's dug for it. Sooner or later, every Inspector Salvo Montalbano adventure abandons the pretense of being a conventional police procedural and collapses into opera buffa. In Stephen Sartarelli's translation Of AUGUST HEAT (Penguin, paper, $14), Andrea Camilleri's endearing Sicilian detective has a perfectly legitimate mystery to solve. The body of a teenage girl has been found in the illegally constructed basement apartment of a seaside rental property, and Montalbano is already on the case - because he rented the house and found the body. But because everything that happens in Sicily seems tied to crooked deals, often in chummy collusion with the Mafia, the investigation is soon tied in knots. At which point, the excitable Montalbano resolves the case through the sheer force of his glorious temper. People who love the Marx Brothers don't usually go for the Three Stooges. Since the same assumption applies to comic mysteries, here's one from each end of the taste spectrum. Tim Dorsey's NUCLEAR JELLYFISH (Morrow/HarperCollins, $24.99), the latest entry in the saga of Serge Storms, is pure gonzo humor. Serge being Serge (meaning certifiable), sex, violence and hilarity ensue as he pinballs along the Florida highways, pursuing his dream of authenticating every bit of the state's anecdotal history. Dorsey devises plenty of Stoogelike antics for Serge, but he also offers clever parodies of the tourists, truckers and conventioneers who stumble into his manic hero's path. THE LOVE POTION MURDERS IN THE MUSEUM OF MAN (Zoland/Steerforth, paper, $14.95) is no less giddy, but in a dry, snide style. Uppity Wainscott University is caught on Alfred Alcorn's blade when two antagonistic academics are found on the floor of the genetics lab, victims of an industrial-strength aphrodisiac and done to death by sexual excess. The Marx Brothers would be very welcome at this quirky institution. The military academy in Frank Tallis's latest Viennese mystery is an Old World institution buffeted by new ideas.

McDermid's latest is a stand-alone set in Fife, Scotland. Detective Inspector Karen Pirie, newly appointed head of the Cold Case squad, has a hard time with desk work, so when a woman reports her father missing and last seen in 1984, Pirie can't resist. But her boss, a paper pusher known as the Macaroon, wants Karen in the office, at least until Bel, an investigative journalist, turns up new evidence in a 20-year-old heiress kidnap case. As Karen and Bel investigate, friends' and family members' memories of the missing people are delivered as flashbacks, resulting in short chapters, multiple viewpoints, and a moderately quick pace. As Karen's two cases seem to converge, the complex and layered plotlines come together, and McDermid does an excellent job creating tension around a cold case. Sure to be a hit with McDermid's large fan base, it should also appeal to those who read other Scottish police mysteries, such as Stuart MacBride's (Flesh House, 2008). Those who enjoyed the cold-case aspect may also enjoy Johan Theorin's Echoes from the Dead (2008).--Moyer, Jessica Copyright 2008 Booklist

When Michelle Gibson reports her father, Mick Prentice, missing at the start of McDermid's intricate but underwhelming stand-alone psychological thriller, Det. Insp. Karen Pirie, head of the Fife police Cold Case Review Team, isn't interested until Michelle reveals that Mick disappeared during the 1984 miners' strike. At the time, everyone believed Mick went "scabbing" in Nottingham. Later, Karen is summoned to the home of wealthy Sir Broderick Maclennan Grant, whose daughter, Catriona, and baby grandson, Adam, were abducted in 1985. A botched ransom hand-off left Catriona dead and Adam nowhere to be found. New evidence linked to the kidnapping has surfaced, and now Karen has two missing people to locate. McDermid tries to pack too much story into one book, and the connection she draws between the cases feels forced. Fans of the Scottish author may be better off waiting for the next outing of McDermid's series to feature psychologist Tony Hill (The Mermaid Singing, etc.). Author tour. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

Set in Fife, Scotland, McDermid's (The Grave Tattoo) 25th psychological thriller features Detective Inspector Karen Pirie, who must handle two cold cases almost simultaneously. On behalf of a mother desperate to save her dying son through a bone-marrow transplant, Pirie seeks the woman's father, who disappeared 23 years ago during a miners' strike. In the other case, a journalist vacationing in Italy has uncovered new evidence regarding the kidnapping of the daughter of Sir Broderick Maclennan Grant, the richest man in Scotland. However, Sir Grant has the reporter, Bel Richmond, investigating the new evidence, and vital information is not always shared with the police. Pirie's superior officer pressures her to solve the Grant case to everyone's satisfaction, but Pirie's own interest is held by the missing grandfather case. The plot weaves between the past and the present, the two cold cases, and the two women investigating them until it reaches a startling conclusion. This is McDermid's storytelling at its best, and DI Pirie, with her blend of humor and tenaciousness, is both likable and believable. A great read; highly recommended for fans of the genre.-Lisa Hanson O'Hara, Univ. of Manitoba Libs., Winnipeg (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

A Darker Domain A Novel Chapter One Wednesday, 23rd January 1985; Newton of Wemyss The voice is soft, like the darkness that encloses them. "You ready?" "As ready as I'll ever be." "You've told her what to do?" Words tumbling now, tripping over each other, a single stumble of sounds. "Don't worry. She knows what's what. She's under no illusions about who's going to carry the can if this goes wrong." Sharp words, sharp tone. "She's not the one I'm worrying about." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing. It means nothing, all right? We've no choices. Not here. Not now. We just do what has to be done." The words have the hollow ring of bravado. It's anybody's guess what they're hiding. "Come on, let's get it done with." This is how it begins. Wednesday, 27th June 2007; Glenrothes The young woman strode across the foyer, low heels striking a rhythmic tattoo on vinyl flooring dulled by the passage of thousands of feet. She looked like someone on a mission, the civilian clerk thought as she approached his desk. But then, most of them did. The crime prevention and public information posters that lined the walls were invariably wasted on them as they approached, lost in the slipstream of their determination. She bore down on him, her mouth set in a firm line. Not bad looking, he thought. But like a lot of the women who showed up here, she wasn't exactly looking her best. She could have done with a bit more make-up, to make the most of those sparkly blue eyes. And something more flattering than jeans and a hoodie. Dave Cruickshank assumed his fixed professional smile. "How can I help you?" he said. The woman tilted her head back slightly, as if readying herself for defence. "I want to report a missing person." Dave tried not to show his weary irritation. If it wasn't neighbours from hell, it was so-called missing persons. This one was too calm for it to be a missing toddler, too young for it to be a runaway teenager. A row with the boyfriend, that's what it would be. Or a senile granddad on the lam. The usual bloody waste of time. He dragged a pad of forms across the counter, squaring it in front of him and reaching for a pen. He kept the cap on; there was one key question he needed answered before he'd be taking down any details. "And how long has this person been missing?" "Twenty-two and a half years. Since Friday the fourteenth of December 1984, to be precise." Her chin came down and truculence clouded her features. "Is that long enough for you to take it seriously?" Detective Sergeant Phil Parhatka watched the end of the video clip then closed the window. "I tell you," he said, "if ever there was a great time to be in cold cases, this is it." Detective Inspector Karen Pirie barely raised her eyes from the file she was updating. "How?" "Stands to reason. We're in the middle of the war on terror. And I've just watched my local MP taking possession of 10 Downing Street with his missus." He jumped up and crossed to the mini-fridge perched on top of a filing cabinet. "What would you rather be doing? Solving cold cases and getting good publicity for it, or trying to make sure the muzzers dinnae blow a hole in the middle of our patch?" "You think Gordon Brown becoming prime minister makes Fife a target?" Karen marked her place in the document with her index finger and gave Phil her full attention. It dawned on her that for too long she'd had her head too far in the past to weigh up present possibilities. "They never bothered with Tony Blair's constituency when he was in charge." "Very true." Phil peered into the fridge, deliberating between an Irn Bru and a Vimto. Thirty-four years old and still he couldn't wean himself off the soft drinks that had been treats in childhood. "But these guys call themselves Islamic jihadists and Gordon's a son of the manse. I wouldn't want to be in the chief constable's shoes if they decide to make a point by blowing up his dad's old kirk." He chose the Vimto. Karen shuddered. "I don't know how you can drink that stuff," she said. "Have you never noticed it's an anagram of vomit?" Phil took a long pull on his way back to his desk. "Puts hairs on your chest," he said. "Better make it two cans, then." There was an edge of envy in Karen's voice. Phil seemed to live on sugary drinks and saturated fats but he was still as compact and wiry as he'd been when they were rookies together. She just had to look at a fully leaded Coke to feel herself gaining inches. It definitely wasn't fair. Phil narrowed his dark eyes and curled his lip in a good-natured sneer. "Whatever. The silver lining is that maybe the boss can screw some more money out of the government if he can persuade them there's an increased threat." Karen shook her head, on solid ground now. "You think that famous moral compass would let Gordon steer his way towards anything that looked that self-serving?" As she spoke, she reached for the phone that had just begun to ring. There were other, more junior officers in the big squad room that housed the Cold Case Review Team, but promotion hadn't altered Karen's ways. She'd never got out of the habit of answering any phone that rang in her vicinity. "CCRT, DI Pirie speaking," she said absently, still turning over what Phil had said, wondering if, deep down, he had a hankering to be where the live action was. "Dave Cruickshank on the front counter, Inspector. I've got somebody here, I think she needs to talk to you." Cruickshank sounded unsure of himself. That was unusual enough to grab Karen's attention. "What's it about?" "It's a missing person," he said. "Is it one of ours?" A Darker Domain A Novel . Copyright © by Val McDermid. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from A Darker Domain by Val McDermid All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.