It's been a long time since I have come across a story that puts me in mind of the work of Ruth Rendell or Minette Walters. When it comes to mysteries, to compare an author to either woman is (in my estimation) high praise indeed, since I consider them both the grande dames of the genre--true masters. So, Julia Wallis Martin . . . Do I keep reading on or not?
I can see why her first novel, A Likeness in Stone, which was published in 1998, was nominated for an Edgar Award. My hesitation in picking up another book comes only from the very unsettling feeling I got upon finishing the book. This was. One. Creepy. Story. I didn't just shut the book, satisfied by the ending and reading experience in general, but there has been a lingering sense of being witness (however fictional and apart from real life) to something a little sordid.
In true Rendellian fashion, this is a mystery that probes into the psychologies of not only the suspects, but also the victim as well as the detective. You get a sense of who did what from the very start of the story, so this is less a matter of who did it, than why they did it, how they did it, and how they managed to get away with it for so very long. And despite all this, in the end, you might, just like me, still be surprised by how things ultimately play out. Shivers up the spine accompanied this read.
When the body was finally found, twenty years after the murder, DCI Driver feels some vindication. Much surprise, but vindication, too. Maybe they can finally get on with the business of pressing charges and sending the murderer away to prison. Because he walked all those years ago. The murderer walked, despite the fact it was widely understood and agreed that he did it. But you see, there was no body, and his friends kept to their stories, which provided alibis all around.
This time Driver is not going to let it go. He has come out of retirement to help the local detectives, even though they would prefer he keep out of matters. He always assumed the body was buried somewhere in the marshes where the house sat. A body buried in Marshfield in the Thames Valley would be all but impossible to locate and worse lost to view as the house and its environs was submerged two decades ago creating a deep reservoir. Driver didn't even consider looking in the house before it was lost underwater. No one in their right mind would have hidden a body in plain sight. And there just was no time between the disappearance the the spilling of the water.
A diver looking for junk he can pull from the house and sell makes the mistake of opening a wardrobe door and finding the gruesome sight of Helena Warner--decomposing and no longer beautiful. A college student missing and presumed dead. Dead men (or women) tell no tales. Or do they? With the recovery of Helena, all eyes turn once again to her lover Ian Gilmore who was questioned endlessly after her disappearance but denied any wrong doing. Of course he would, but then he had the means and opportunity. Going by his troubled life since then and his inability to commit to any other woman, it's obvious he carries guilt or remorse or something from what happened back in 1975.
On that fateful night, Gilmore and his roommate, artist Richard Wachmann, spent one last night in the Wachmann family home before it was sunk beneath the water whole. A party of sorts was had with Helena coming with her roommate, the plain Joan Poole. No one else saw anything, but those four were involved in something and only three came away and kept their secrets well hidden. Much like the body of Helena in that wardrobe for twenty long years.
A Likeness in Stone is a slow burn sort of story. Wallis Martin builds the tension slowly and lets it all simmer as you piece together what happened. DCI Driver, shortly after this last unsolvable case, retired. But this is the sort of mystery that cannot be forgotten. Like an itch you cannot reach to scratch it has stayed just below the surface in all these lives. And now they come together one more time--rather Driver and the local police reopen the investigation.
This is not a flashy thriller in the contemporary mode, but it is a carefully plotted and suspenseful story that is as much a police procedural as a psychological study. The minds and motives are explored and revealed. The action is languid but the depth of the characterization is deep and maybe a little too close for comfort. It was pure chance that I picked this book up. I think I have owned it since it first came out, drawn to the idea of a mystery involving a house that has been flooded as is--with all the furniture and contents (and even a body) intact. The book just sat there for years staring me in the face and I decided to pick it up and give it a go and found I couldn't put it down. The story gets under your skin, which does make me a little hesitant to pick up another book, but I think I will anyway.
Julia Wallis Martin appears to have only published a small handful of books. The Bird Yard is her second book, but it looks to be a standalone. Unfortunately the books appear to be out of print, but it should not be a problem to find a used copy. Going by this book, she is worth looking out for.