Detective Sergeant Declan Miller returns for a second outing in The Wrong Hands. The policeman is still mourning the death of his wife, Alex, and continues to hound the homicide team tasked with the job of finding the killer. In the meantime, he and his long-suffering partner Detective Sergeant Xiu are on the job solving murders.
A briefcase is stolen by a couple of opportunistic thieves at a train station. After they make their getaway they pop the locks only to make the grisly discovery of a couple of severed hands inside. It turns out the hands are essentially proof of an execution and the hitman who carried out the job wants his proof back so he can get paid.
You really don’t want an annoyed hitman on your trail.
This particular hitman likes to write lists and he’s got a list of people he thinks may have the briefcase he so desperately desires. The dudes who took the case, the people who may know the dudes, and so it goes.
When the briefcase is brought in to Miller and the contents are revealed, it suddenly becomes Miller’s case. Obviously, a couple of hands in a case means there has to be a body out there minus a couple of necessary appendages. But as the number of bodies mount up, each with their hands attached, it becomes increasingly necessary to work out who the hitman is, who hired the hitman and who the hands belong to.
With constant sly humorous references and sharp, witty observations from Miller, the overall tone of the book is quite light. Surprisingly so. This juxtaposes rather sharply with the criminal activity that takes place. And thanks to the many sharp one-liners, the story appears to unfold at a sharp pace.
But when you understand the reason behind Miller’s apparent good humour and bonhomie is actually an effort to cover the constant pain he feels for the loss of his wife, you get a real sense of the tragedy of the man.
Miller has regular conversations with his dead wife and they prove to be both revealing and heartbreaking. It’s a useful way of working through a difficult case, essentially being brought to task by his wife’s wisdom, even if it’s really his own thoughts making the points. But the man is clearly hurting and finding it difficult to move past Alex’s death.
As can be seen at the end of one such “conversation” : ‘now Miller wanted to do the one thing that was quite impossible. He wanted to pull his wife to him, hold her close and assure her that she could never be replaced. Not on a dance floor and never in his heart.’
Now, some people are going to find Miller’s constant needling jokes and non-sequiturs extremely annoying. Knowing that it’s a coping mechanism probably won’t help but at least it’s a reasonable explanation for the barrage of weirdness. I found it amusing at first until it became borderline tiresome, but at least the quality of the joking around was high.
Mark Billingham has created a superb follow up to the very enjoyable opener to the series, The Last Dance. There’s great depth to the characters that appear throughout and a finely wrought line between aptitude and face, not to mention carefree happiness and heartbreak. I found this to be a particularly entertaining police procedural mystery that found me looking forward to sitting down and reading at every opportunity.
My thanks to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for the digital ARC that gave me the opportunity to read, enjoy and review this book.