A Case Of Matricide is the third book in the Georges Gorski series by award-winning Scottish author, Graeme Macrae Burnet. In the town of Saint Louis, the Chief of Police, Georges Gorski has always felt like an outsider, always felt like he’s under surveillance, but lately his purposelessness borders on acute.
The townspeople follow their routines and little out of the ordinary happens: a stray dog is brought to the police station; a high-school student is suspended for sharing inappropriate literature; the florist downstairs keeps an eye on an increasingly-demented Mme Gorski.
Except that it’s such a minor thing, it’s almost a relief to respond to an alert about a guest staying longer than usual at the Hotel Bertillon: the nameless Slav is quite unforthcoming with detail, but Gorski hasn’t any legal recourse when no offence has been committed.
Madame Duymann tells Gorski that her son has threatened to kill her, by violent and other means, and kicked her pet dog to death. Robert Duymann, apparently a celebrated author, claims she is quite demented. Of course Gorski has to speak to her, and keep an eye on the son, (who wears slip-on shoes, making him untrustworthy in Gorski’s estimation), then makes a record of the visit.
His attention to detail involves checking local veterinary surgeries to verify Robert Duymann’s story about the dog, perhaps inviting ridicule, even if it provides an amusing tale when his daughter, Clemence comes for dinner.
Is he clutching at straws, hoping for something more important to do when he finds something not quite right about the death scene of a local factory owner? Is the ageing doctor too eager to call it a cardiac arrest? Why is the mayor, Gorski’s father-in-law, at the scene? And is the death, in a car accident, of the man’s receptionist, described as an erratic driver, in any way suspicious?
Before matters are resolved (if they ever really are, the reader will have to draw their own conclusions), there have been three suicide attempts, the description of the unsuccessful one blackly funny; as well as the deaths mentioned, an older man and two older women meet their ends; someone is blackmailed; and the dog is given a home.
Gorski’s narrative is interspersed with a sort of catch-up of what the townsfolk are up to just then. Macrae Burnet certainly has the measure of the French provincial town: his depiction of its inhabitants, their frequent pettiness, their flaws and foibles, is perfect.
Macrae Burnet gives the reader a story within a story within a story as author Duymann writes about matricide, Brunet writes about Duymann and Macrae Burnet writes about Brunet. There are plenty of parallels between their lives including two sons with demented mothers, suicide by train, and the feeling of being trapped in a small town. Although, of his unfavourable depiction of Saint Louis, Brunet told an interviewer: “just because you love something, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write about it with honesty.”
While he does do something that will surprise, Gorksi’s unending self-examination, second-guessing, rationalising and over-interpreting everything is a constant source of humour, but he makes some insightful observations too. Accomplices “hold sway over each other not merely for the duration of a particular job, but for as long as they both remain in the land of the living. It is a kind of grim marriage” and “what mattered was not what had actually occurred, but what people believed to have occurred.”
As with earlier instalments, the reader who skips the Foreword and Afterword is doing themself a huge disservice, as these enhance the story, are an essential, if tongue-in-cheek, part of the fiction, providing extra detail, an interesting perspective, and parts are laugh-out-loud funny. While it’s a pity that Gorski’s story has come to an end, whatever else Macrae Burnet comes up with will be a must-read. This is literary crime at its best.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by Text Publishing.